Chapter 15
962 Words
The secondary server room was less of a room and more of a metal closet that breathed heat. The constant, low-frequency hum of the cooling fans was starting to vibrate in Roxanne’s teeth, a steady thrum that matched the low-grade anxiety thumping in her chest. It was lonely work—just her, a dual-monitor setup that looked like it belonged in a government bunker, and a growing pile of digital dead ends.
She wasn’t used to this much high-grade hardware. Back at her office, her "rig" was a laptop with a cracked screen and a prayer. Here, the data was so clean it was suspicious. Everything was polished, encrypted, and filed away with military precision.
"Come on," she muttered, her fingers dancing across the keys. She wasn't looking for a smoking gun yet; she was just trying to understand the rhythm of the Vane business.
As she scrolled through the encryption layers, she felt a strange sense of comfort. The logic behind the security—the way the firewalls were stacked, the specific "handshake" protocols—it all felt incredibly familiar. It was the exact style of digital architecture she’d been raised on.
She thought of David Johnson.
David wasn't just her mentor; he was the man who had taught her how to breathe in the digital world. After her own father, Leo, had checked out mentally, David had stepped in. He was the one who bought her her first real coding deck, the one who taught her that a secret isn't hidden by a lock, but by a distraction. He was more of a father to her than Leo had ever managed to be.
Even now, miles away and completely unrelated to this messy Vane business, she could feel his influence in her work. 'Always look for the shadow, Roxie,' he’d told her. 'The data is the light, but the shadow is where the truth sleeps.' She smiled faintly. She missed their late-night sessions over cheap pizza, back when the world felt simpler.
A sharp, rhythmic knock at the heavy steel door made her jump, her hand reflexively twitching toward the 'minimize' shortcut.
The door creaked open, and Jules leaned in. He’d ditched the tactical vest he’d been wearing earlier and was down to a charcoal t-shirt that showed off the ink on his arms. He was balancing two cardboard carriers of coffee and a brown paper bag that smelled like a heart attack in the best way possible.
"Don't shoot," Jules said, his grin as reckless as ever. "I come bearing gifts and a temporary ceasefire. I figured if I didn't feed you, Silas would have my head on a pike by dinner."
Roxanne let out a long, shaky breath, leaning back in her chair. The tension in her shoulders didn't fully disappear, but she managed a small, tired smile. "You’re a lifesaver, Jules. I think I’ve been staring at these spreadsheets so long the numbers are starting to turn into little stick figures."
"It’s a hazard of the job," Jules said, sliding a cup onto the edge of her desk. He didn't hover over her shoulder—which she appreciated—but instead sat on a stack of plastic equipment crates. "Silas is currently in a shouting match with three captains, and Killian is... well, Killian is glaring at a wall. I figured you needed a break."
Roxanne took a sip of the coffee. It was thick, bitter, and perfect. "You seem remarkably chill for a guy whose department is currently under a microscope."
Jules shrugged, tearing open the bag to reveal a couple of greasy breakfast sandwiches. "I’ve been the 'impulsive one' for fifteen years, Rox. I know where I stand. I know I didn't take a dime. The rest is just noise. We’re a messy set of gears, but we turn together."
Roxanne looked back at her monitors. The "Brotherhood" Jules described sounded so solid, so safe. It reminded her of the bond she felt with David—that absolute trust that someone has your back because they helped build you from the ground up.
"It must be nice," she said softly. "Having people you don't have to question. People who taught you everything you know."
Jules looked at her, his dark eyes unreadable for a split second. "It’s the only thing that keeps this life from being a nightmare, Rox. Why? You thinking about someone?"
"Just my mentor," she said, her voice turning fond. "He used to say that loyalty isn't a contract, it's a reflex. I was just thinking about how he’d probably laugh at me sitting in a mafia server room."
"He sounds like a smart guy," Jules said, standing up and dusting crumbs off his jeans. "Well, don't stay in this hole too long. The 'Ice King' will be looking for his queen soon, and I don't want to be the one who tells him you’ve been kidnapped by a mainframe."
He winked at her and headed for the door. "See you at the car, Rox."
As the door shut, Roxanne looked back at the screen. She hadn't found the traitor. She hadn't found a single name. But as she looked at the complex, beautiful web of the Vane's security, she felt a weird sense of peace. She was using the tools David gave her to protect a family that was just as messy as her own.
She wasn't worried. As long as she stayed true to what David taught her, she’d find the rat. She just didn't realize that sometimes, the person who teaches you how to see the shadow is the one who knows exactly how to hide in it.
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