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“Bingo,” Cody confirmed, his throat tightening at the thought. “They’ll pull out all the stops to silence him. And once they’re done with Jason ...”
“They’ll come for us,” Bridger finished, his usually calm demeanor tinged with steel.
The air in the kitchen grew heavy, thick with unspoken fears and grim determination. Cody’s gaze swept over the team, taking in their resolute expressions. These people, virtual strangers to him, were ready to risk everything for their friend. A pang of longing hit him, sharp and unexpected.
Mason’s gruff voice cut through the tension. “We’re not leaving our bro to those vultures.”
A chorus of agreement rippled through the group. Cody felt a smile tugging at his lips, despite the gravity of the situation. “Figured as much. You’re either incredibly brave or spectacularly crazy. Possibly both.”
Paige raised an eyebrow, a challenge dancing in her eyes. “Got a better idea, hotshot?”
Cody straightened, ignoring the protests of his aching body. “Actually, I do. We take the fight to them.”
The kitchen erupted into a cacophony of voices, questions and objections flying like confetti at a particularly rowdy wedding. Cody held up his hands, waiting for the storm to subside.
“Look,” he said, locking eyes with each team member in turn, “the Consortium thinks they have the upper hand. They’re not expecting us to go on the offensive. That’s our advantage.”
Fenn leaned forward. “What exactly are you proposing?”
Cody took a deep breath, acutely aware that his next words could make or break his tenuous position with the team. “We hit them where it hurts. We destroy the virus.”
The kitchen suddenly felt too small, too warm, the curious gazes of the team almost palpable on his skin.
“The virus is stored on an offline system in a remote location,” he began, his voice low and steady. “It’s about as secure as Fort Knox on steroids. I know where it is. We need to get in there and take the hard drive containing the virus.”
Fenn’s eyes gleaming with interest. “What’s the catch?”
The team exchanged glances, a mixture of hope and skepticism on their faces. Cody steeled himself for what he had to say next, knowing it wouldn’t be well-received.
“I’m willing to go back to the Consortium,” he said, the words tasting bitter on his tongue. “But I need Paige to come with me.”
The reaction was immediate and explosive. Voices raised in protest, faces contorted with disbelief and anger. Cody winced at the onslaught, his ears ringing.
Paige’s voice cut through the chaos, sharp and demanding. “Why me?”
He met her gaze, seeing the suspicion and curiosity warring in her eyes. “There are three security checkpoints. You’re the only one who can open the lock on the final door.”
The kitchen fell silent, the sudden absence of noise almost deafening. Cody could hear his own heartbeat thundering in his ears as he continued. “It’s a biometric key. Your dad designed it.”
Paige’s face paled, her knuckles turning white as she gripped the edge of the counter. “What are you talking about? My father didn’t work for the Consortium. He never would have?—”
The doubt on her face, the grief, smashed him in the chest so hard he couldn’t breathe. But he had to double down. Now was the time to hammer home the truth.
The small sliver he intended to reveal, anyway.
“How would you know? You and your dad weren’t exactly close,” he continued ruthlessly. “Your father designed the key to respond only to his DNA or that of his direct descendants. It was his failsafe. You’re the only person alive who can activate it and access the virus.”
The air in the kitchen crackled with tension. Cody could almost see the gears turning in Paige’s mind as she processed the twin bombshells.
“So I have to go,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
She understood the stakes. He knew she would. But he hadn’t anticipated that wounding her like this would hurt so bad.
15
The locketat Paige’s throat suddenly felt as heavy as an anvil, its cool metal burning against her skin like a brand of unwelcome truth. She staggered back, gripping the kitchen counter for support as her mind reeled, trying to process the impossible.
Her father—a man she’d buried both literally and figuratively years ago—had just burst back into her life like a ghost with unfinished business. The kitchen, once a sanctuary of predictable routine, now warped and twisted around her, as if reality itself was rebelling against this new information.