Chapter 5 - The Trap SpringsMy hand instinctively twitched toward my pocket, where a small USB drive containing the decrypted IP logs sat warm against my thigh.
“You knew,” I breathed, the pieces finally snapping together in my mind with terrifying clarity. “The declined card at the café wasn't an accident. You were testing me before I even stepped foot in this building, weren't you?”
Claire’s expression didn't soften, but a flicker of grim validation crossed her features.
“Nothing in my life is an accident, Owen. When my accounts were frozen, I needed to know who I could trust outside the corporate glass bubble. I needed someone desperate enough to show basic human kindness, but smart enough to survive the sharks circling this floor. You passed round one.”
“And round two?” I asked, my heart pounding against my ribs like a trapped bird. “Am I your pawn, or your scapegoat?”
“You’re my only weapon,” Claire said sharply, grabbing my arm with a grip surprisingly strong for someone of her slender frame. “The person who framed me—our CEO, Julian Vance—is currently downstairs in the executive boardroom locking down the final votes to oust me by tomorrow noon. If he succeeds, he liquidates Ashton Ridge Solutions, cleans out the pension funds, and leaves thousands of employees stranded.”
“Julian Vance?” I stammered. “Marcus’s uncle?”
“His nephew,” Claire corrected coldly. “Which means Marcus planted that threatening text message on your phone twenty minutes ago to scare you off the case.”
The blood rushed to my ears. The text message. Marcus.
Before I could process the betrayal, the emergency staircase door at the end of the hall burst open.
Heavy boots thudded against the floor. Three men in dark suits—corporate security guards wearing earpieces—stormed down the aisle toward our cubicle.
“There they are!” one shouted, pointing directly at us. “Ms. Bennett is in violation of her administrative suspension. Secure her and take the analyst into custody for corporate espionage!”
I looked at Claire. She didn't look panicked; she looked predatory.
May you like
“Run?” I asked.
“Fight,” she whispered, and grabbed my hand, pulling me into the maze of gray cubicles as the security team opened fire with verbal commands and closed in for the kill.
