It was raining again.
The storm outside Alexander's penthouse office was a perfect reflection of the one building inside Isabella's breast, as thick sheets of it battered against the floor-to-ceiling windows.
She folded her arms and stood close to the window, watching the city haze under the unrelenting rain. She wasn't thinking about the scenery, though. Hours had passed since then.
The heat from their near moment was still clinging to her skin. Alexander's expression when he glanced at her, as if he was barely controlling himself. The way she'd wished to get closer, even for a moment.
He's a jerk.
Damn her even more.
This was not meant to happen to her. Not for him. Not when the mission was still beset by unresolved questions and trust was brittle. The intrusion. The sabotage. the persistent feeling that someone in his organization was still concealing something.
But here she was, gazing at the rain and remembering how his voice had faltered when he answered, "I'm not afraid."
Untruthful.
Behind her, the elevator chimed. She knew who it was, so she didn't turn.
Alexander.
Once more, she addressed him by his first name.
Long before he spoke, the intensity in the room was the same as the storm outside. Tonight, he walked more slowly and deliberately, yet there was a weight to his steps, as if he had been fighting his own demons since their last encounter.
"I thought you left hours ago," he replied in a cautious, low voice. managed.
Her gaze remained fixed on the glass as she shook her head. "I couldn't sleep."
"I couldn't either."
Unspoken meaning weighed heavily on the words as they hung there.
At last, she made herself turn and look him in the eye. With his sleeves rolled up, his tie somewhat relaxed, and his normally sharp aspect softened, he too looked like the storm. However, his eyes were still tense.
It had simply gotten deeper, if anything.
Her arms were crossed more tightly. Has Harris completed his analysis of the video from the international hack?"
A rhythm. He nodded, but there was a problem.
Indeed. The video verified a connection to this break-in.
She knitted her brows. However?"
Exhaling, Alexander stepped forward. She was able to make out the dim shadows beneath his eyes.
However, we were able to identify a person involved in the breach. Additionally, you won't like who it is.
Her voice remained calm despite the knot in her stomach. "Show me."
This time, he stayed away from the screen.
He gave her a file instead. A real one, full of timestamps and surveillance photographs. The top page had a grainy picture of a person wearing a black tactical jacket; the person's face was blurry, but their posture was clear.
She gasped.
"Impossible," she muttered as she turned the page. "This isn't possible. He's—
"Someone you trusted." He said in a low voice with a harsh edge. "I understand that this is difficult, Isabella, but we have proof. Major Grant, your previous commanding officer, was spotted both here and abroad close to the compromised shipments. He is engaged.
Her heart was pounding now as she shook her head. No. Not Grant.
"He refused. Not for cash. She repeated, "Not for anything," but even as she spoke, her confidence began to falter.
since Grant was the one.
The same position. Along his wrist, the identical scar is just barely perceptible.
Her heartbeat became very rapid.
I endorsed him.
In an attempt to regain her breath, she looked aside and closed the file. Anger and incredulity were entangled too closely to be separated, and the storm outside seemed to be inside her now.
The proof was staring her in the face, but she was still making an effort to deny it.