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CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Evangeline

Sweat trickles down my spine, while another alarm blares through the room. My head is pounding, the high pitched sounds piercing my brain. The temperature keeps climbing, turning the room into a sauna.

Knight hasn’t moved from his position at the desk for the past hour, his attention fixed to the countdown timer that marks how long we have until … what? He hasn’t explained that, and I’m a little scared to ask.

“Stop fidgeting.” His voice carries an edge sharp enough to draw blood.

“I wasn’t.”

“You've changed position six times in the last two minutes. Either sit still, or I’ll find something to tie you to the chair with.”

I swallow my retort. After the handcuffs, I’m scared that it’s not a bluff. “It’s like an oven in here.”

“I’m sorry, m’lady. Want me to break a window for you? Or you could just go back to the bathroom and sit in there. Your choice.” He doesn’t look at me, and his fingers never stop moving across the keyboards.

I press my lips together, fighting back the urge to tell him it’s not my fault. Because, while I might not have done it on purpose, I did bring the phone into his apartment.

Another screen goes dark, and Knight’s curses become more creative, but his hands never hesitate as he shifts to a different keyboard. Watching him work is like seeing a conductor try to lead an orchestra through Bruckner’s Symphony No.8.

“Forty-two minutes.” He’s talking to himself more than me. “What’s your endgame, old man?”

The timer continues its countdown. More red numbers and letters flash across the remaining screens, reflecting in Knight’s eyes. Even his T-shirt shows signs of strain, sweat darkening the fabric between his shoulder blades.

I shift again, unable to get comfortable in the metal chair. The movement draws his attention for a split second. Just long enough for something else to go wrong. A new alarm joins the cacophony.

“Damn it!” His hand hitting the desk makes me flinch. “Stop fucking moving.”

“I can’t help it. It’s too hot, my wrists hurt, and I don’t even know why I’m still here!”

“You’re here because someone very dangerous used you to deliver a message.” He says each word slowly, like I’m a child who can’t understand a simple sentence. “And right now, your continued breathing depends entirely on proving you had no idea what you were carrying.”

A shiver runs through me despite the heat. “I already told you?—”

“Yes, you’re completely innocent. Just the perfect unwitting pawn. Tell me again how you know nothing about computers, how you needed help setting up your phone, and how you trusted someone pretending to be me because they were fucking nice .”

"It's the truth!"

“Then congratulations. It’s cause for celebration, because your technical incompetence might just save your life.” The words are delivered through clenched teeth.

Another alarm goes off. The noise reminds me of a movie where the artificial intelligence is in its death throes, but a thousand times worse.

“Maybe it’s not about the virus,” he continues, the bite in his voice sharpening. “I’m starting to think Victor chose you specifically to drive me insane.”

I want to snap back at him, but movement on one of the remaining screens catches my attention. Lines of text appear, forming words I don’t understand. Knight goes completely still.

“No.” The word is a whisper. “You sadistic fucking bastard.”

“What? What’s happening?”

He ignores me, attention fixed on the screen. Whatever he’s seeing drains the color from his face. For the first time since this started, he looks genuinely rattled.

“Knight?” I hate how small my voice sounds. “What’s wrong?”

“He’s not just attacking the security systems. He’s using them to access something else.”

A new timer appears beneath the first one. Twenty minutes, counting down in angry red numbers.

“What happens in twenty minutes?”

His laugh sounds like breaking glass. “Either I figure out how to stop him from accessing the rest of my files, or I find out how far he’s willing to go to prove a point.”

The room feels smaller, the walls pressing in as more monitors die. Knight’s presence fills the space, all coiled tension and barely contained fury. Even with his back to me, I can feel the rage radiating off him in waves.

“Look at me.” His voice is sharp above the electronic chaos.

I lift my eyes to meet his, and my breath catches at the intensity I find there. He’s turned his chair to face me fully, studying my expression like he can read the truth written on my skin.

“I need you to understand something.” He leans forward, close enough that I can see the muscle jumping beneath the skin of his jaw. “If you’re lying about any of this … about not knowing what was on that phone, about why you came here … I will find out. And if that happens …”

He doesn’t finish the threat. He doesn’t need to.

“I’m not lying.” My voice is soft and steady. I hold his gaze. “I thought I was meeting someone who could help me find my brother. That’s all.”

“Better hope you’re telling the truth, because right now, you’re either the perfect victim or you’re the best fucking operative I’ve ever encountered. And trust me, you don’t want me deciding it’s the latter.”

Another alarm blares. Another system dies. The heat keeps rising as more equipment fails, but I don’t notice it. Knight is so close, so focused on me, that his presence is overwhelming everything else.

“Thirty-eight minutes.” His attention snaps back to the screens, and I suck in a breath. “Try not to move. I need to focus, and your constant fidgeting isn’t helping.”

I force myself to stay still, watching him work, and trying not to think about how close he is in this confined space. About how his movements carry an edge of desperation now. About how my survival depends entirely on convincing him I’m exactly what I appear to be.

The countdown continues to tick, while Knight fights to save his … whatever it is. And I sit in the corner, trying not to move, and praying my ignorance is enough to keep me alive.