~~ Sinveer POV ~~
Something is wrong.
And it's not the obvious kind—not the gunfire or betrayal or cash gone missing. No, this kind of wrong is quiet. Slow. It doesn't shout. It whispers.
And I've learned to listen to whispers.
It started two days ago. A folder on my desk had shifted. By a fraction, maybe. But I don't do fractions. I do precision.
Then came the system logs. A small discrepancy—someone accessing internal files that weren't tied to an active task order. The path wasn't flagged as high-risk, but the file it connected to was marked Omega.
Top-tier movement logs. Only three people should have even known it existed.
I checked the names.
None of them matched.
My blood ran cold.
Now I sit at the head of a narrow war table in the east wing—just four of us. Marek. Captain Rigo. Captain Enzo. My inner circle. Trusted. Vetted.
"We've had a minor breach," I say. "Digital. Nothing obvious. Whoever did it was careful. Strategic."
"What was accessed?" Rigo asks.
I study him. Rigo's slick. Never sloppy, but always five seconds from trying to outsmart the room.
"Omega manifest rotations," I answer. "North Sea. Six weeks ahead."
Marek stiffens. "That's not small."
"No. It's not."
Enzo shifts in his seat. "You think it's one of us?"
I let the silence stretch.
"I think someone wants us to think it's one of us."
And just like that, the seed is planted.
Suspicion doesn't need water. Just tension.
And I've just given them both.
Hours later, I return to my office. The room smells like aged wood and cold iron.
Liach sits outside, typing, perfect as ever. Pale blouse. Glossed lips. Not a hair out of place.
She doesn't look up when I pass. But I can feel her eyes on my back.
That night, the tension spills into everything.
Marek and Rigo argue over access control policies.
Enzo pulls me aside to question whether Marek's been getting sloppy.
I don't stop it. I want it.
Chaos is truth serum.
And if someone inside my circle is leaking, the cracks will expose them.
But no one considers the assistant.
Not yet.
~Liach POV Switch – Earlier That Morning~
He's watching.
More than usual.
His energy is off—tight, focused, like a coiled wire. But he doesn't ask anything directly. He's letting the suspicion brew in the room around him.
Good. Let it.
Because I've already made my next move.
I watched his captains during yesterday's meeting. Rigo never trusts anyone. Enzo, a big problem. And Marek? He's loyal, but exhausted.
I don't need to frame anyone. I just need to tilt the table.
So I plant the seed.
A printed document, unshredded, slipped into Marek's confidential bin—a list of offshore accounts routed under Rigo's initials.
A casual remark to Enzo about Marek working late with "restricted files."
A flash drive I borrow from Rigo's desk—only to return it later, wiped and empty.
Small things. Barely noticeable. But enough to turn questions into doubt.
By the time they start fighting, Sinveer will look everywhere.
Everywhere but me.
~~BACK TO SINVEER – LATER THAT NIGHT~~
The tension is reaching its peak.
I pour a drink in my office, lights low, the city glowing beyond the glass. My mind runs over every detail. Every file. Every face.
And one face keeps surfacing.
LIACH.
It's not that I believe she could be the one.
It's that I don't believe it too much.
And that's what makes me nervous.
She's been perfect since the day she walked in. Unnaturally perfect. Unshakable. And too Precise.
I run my hand over my jaw.
I could pull her in. Question her. Press if I want to.
But if I'm wrong?
I risk exposing myself to the one person I haven't decided what to do with yet.
The one who was on my arm three nights ago, dressed in red, looking like war and sin.
I should stop thinking about her. But I can't.
~~THE NEXT DAY~~
Everything explodes.
Rigo storms into Marek's office accusing him of manipulation. Marek throws it back in his face, demanding to know why Rigo's name is tied to off-shore laundering logs.
Enzo throws fuel on the fire, saying someone's been inside restricted drives.
I watch it all unfold from the hall, arms crossed, an silent.
Liach walks past me with a coffee tray.
She doesn't look at the chaos. But she smiles at me.
And for a second… I wonder if she lit the match.
Later, I call her in.
"Close the door."
She does.
"Sir, Is it always like this?" she asks calmly, taking a seat across from me.
"Like what?"
"Men arguing over territory while the real threats move in silence."
She says it like a joke.
But it lands like a warning.
"You've been paying attention," I murmur.
"I'm your assistant. That's what I'm paid for."
I study her for a long moment. Her posture is perfect. Legs crossed, hands resting on her lap, spine straight. Not a crack in sight.
But still...
"Do you ever lie, Liach?"
She tilts her head.
"Professionally? Or personally?" "Or is it Both."
She smiles. "All the time."
That honesty is more dangerous than any denial.
I lean forward. "If I ever find out you're playing me, there won't be warnings."
Her smile doesn't fade.
"I wouldn't expect any." she said.
That Night – Sinveer's POV – From His Office
I caught her on the security feed. Alone. Leaving late.
She walks through the lobby with the same grace she always has—but something in her posture has shifted.
A little too casual. A little too sure for a normal person. And I can't stop watching.
Because the deeper I dig… The more I know the real threat isn't outside my circle.
It's already inside.
Smiling.