Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 77051 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77051 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
I flinch. “I didn’t say she did.”
He curses under his breath and starts pacing, hand in his hair. I’ve never seen him lose composure like this.
“Okay,” he says finally, trying to reel himself in. “You didn’t plug it in, did you?”
“Gage…”
His head snaps up. “You did.”
I nod helplessly. “It looked like a normal drive!”
He closes his eyes like he’s praying for patience. “You could’ve triggered a beacon, River. Whoever planted that knows you found it now.”
The room feels smaller. My chest feels tighter.
“I didn’t know,” I whisper.
He exhales hard and then… softens. He steps closer. Not angry anymore—just there.
“I know,” he murmurs. “We’ll fix it. You’re not alone, okay?”
The words sink into me like sunlight through fog. Like I've heard them before but from a different voice. A modulated one.
I push away… and stare at him.
He makes a quick call—quiet, clipped, technical words I don’t understand. His voice is steady again, but his hand is trembling around his phone. When he hangs up, he looks at me like he’s about to ask something he knows I’ll hate.
“I need to take it,” he says, nodding toward my pocket.
I hesitate. “Why?”
“So I can find out who touched it before you did.”
He holds out his hand. I hand it over. His fingers brush mine, lingering just long enough to send a confusing flutter through my chest.
“Thank you,” he says softly. “I promise I’ll keep it safe.”
I nod, unable to speak.
He pockets it and adds, “Let’s get out of here.”
I send a quick text to Mask telling him everything, and he sends back a simple, “working on it.”
We end up at a park, same as yesterday. Except this time, there’s no laughter. No coffee. Just silence and a gentle wind that smells like rain.
I sit on the bench and stare at the lake. My reflection looks like someone else’s face. Someone tired. Someone lost.
“How bad is it?” I finally ask.
He’s quiet for a long moment. Then: “Bad. Whoever did this wanted you to find it. Psalm88 isn’t just a tag—it’s a signature. A taunt.”
“From Mason?”
He doesn’t answer right away. “We don’t know that yet.”
“But you think it’s someone at NovaPlay.”
“I think it’s someone who knows you. Someone with access.”
I press my palms against my knees, trying to stop them from shaking. “It’s like they’re in my head, Gage.”
He looks at me, eyes softening. “No. They’re in your network. That’s different.”
I huff a shaky laugh. “You sound like my therapist.”
“I sound like a guy who doesn’t want to see you get hurt again.”
Something breaks in me at that. I look at him, really look at him—his messy hair, the dark circles under his eyes, the tension carved deep into his shoulders.
And I know. I know he’s Mask, but I’m not sure what to do with the information just yet.
“Thank you,” I whisper. “For today. For…everything.”
He gives me a small smile. “You don’t have to thank me, Quinn.”
But I do. Because no one else is showing up like he does. No one else has helped me like he has.
My mind reels about the way Gage has touched me. Kissed me. Mask… Gage. It’s all so confusing in my head.
It’s him. I know it is, and suddenly I feel shy. So, very, very shy. Why Gage? Why now? I always thought he hated me.
I hesitate, then ask, “Will you just hold me?” It’s a big ask, and I half-expect him to laugh off my request. He doesn’t know that I know.
Instead, he holds out his arm and I scoot closer. He wraps me into his chest, and I hear his heartbeat—Mask’s heartbeat—thumping against my ear. It steadies me. Like a war drum beating out in tempo with mine.
I want to tell him I know. I want to say something, but I can’t. Instead, I rest my head against his chest, and let his arm wrap around my shoulders, and think about the way he touched me last night.
I don’t want to ruin his plan by voicing that I know he’s Mask. But, I do know.
TWENTY
GAGE
I know the second the scan finishes.
Knight doesn’t say anything at first. Just stares at the line of code and leans back, slow and stiff, like he’s afraid if he moves too fast, the truth might get worse.
“Say it,” I murmur.
He doesn’t look at me. “You’re not gonna like it.”
“I already don’t.”
Arrow spins his chair around from the second terminal, brow furrowed. “It’s confirmed. The payload originated from an internal HR workstation. Logged in under user ID…” He trails off, then says it anyway. “TashWills_24.”
Tasha.
River’s best friend.
The same Tasha who brought River cupcakes on her birthday. The same Tasha who told her, You’re too good for NovaPlay.
The same Tasha who just this week stood at her desk like nothing was wrong.
I feel like I’ve been punched.
“She was there the day River reported Mason,” I say aloud.