Page 195 of Knot So Lucky

"Got something," I say without preamble, pulling out my phone and forwarding him the text and images.

His expression darkens as he reviews them, green eyes going hard behind his round spectacles.

"They're escalating," he says quietly. "From sabotage to direct threats. And they have photos from the kidnapping, which means either they were involved directly or they have access to whoever was."

"I'm adding the number to our tracking spider," I say, already pulling up the sophisticated monitoring system we've been building.

The spider is beautiful in its complexity—a web of algorithms designed to track digital footprints across multiple platforms, correlating data points that seem unrelated to identify patterns and sources. It's technically illegal in about seventeen different ways, but fuck legality when Aurora's safety is at stake.

I input the unknown number, setting parameters for aggressive tracking—social media cross-referencing, financial transaction monitoring, geolocation tracking if the phone connects to any network we have access to.

"What did Aurora say about suspects?" Elias asks, watching my work with the appreciation of someone who understands exactly what I'm doing.

"She thinks we're focusing too much on the obvious targets," I reply, fingers flying across the keyboard. "Says it has to besomeone we least expect. Someone trusted, or someone who seems irrelevant to racing politics."

The words echo in my mind as I work, reshaping how I'm approaching the investigation.

Someone we least expect.

Not Richard, whose history makes him an obvious suspect. Not Dante, whose antagonism is too visible to be truly dangerous. Not even Marco, whose financial troubles make him a convenient scapegoat.

Someone else.

Someone hiding in plain sight, using our focus on obvious threats as cover while they systematically dismantle Aurora's career and safety.

"I need to expand the surveillance," I mutter, opening new windows and adding targets I'd previously dismissed as unlikely.

Junior engineers who seem too eager to help. Sponsors who inserted themselves into our operations with convenient timing. Media figures who've been unusually sympathetic while subtly undermining Aurora's credibility.

FIA officials with access to technical systems who've never given us reason to doubt their loyalty.

The list grows longer as I consider possibilities that seemed paranoid hours ago but now feel disturbingly plausible.

"This is going to get ugly," Elias observes, watching my screen fill with surveillance targets and tracking protocols. "If we're wrong about any of these people, we could destroy innocent careers."

"And if we're right," I counter, "we stop whoever's trying to hurt Aurora before they succeed."

The choice isn't difficult. I'll burn every bridge, ruin every relationship, compromise every ethical standard I have if that's what it takes to keep my Omega safe.

Elias nods slowly, apparently coming to the same conclusion. "I'll set up additional monitoring on communications. If any of these targets coordinate with each other or with unknown parties, we'll know."

We work in focused silence, building a digital war machine designed to expose secrets and track threats. Hours pass without notice, the tech lab's artificial lighting making time irrelevant.

My phone buzzes periodically with updates—Cale checking on the date, Luca demanding I return for evening training, Aurora sending a sweet text thanking me for the afternoon.

I respond to each appropriately, maintaining the facade that everything is normal while my mind churns through possibilities and my fingers execute code that could land me in prison if anyone with authority discovered it.

Aurora was right.

It has to be someone we least expect.

Someone who's been with us all along, watching and waiting and planning while we focused on external threats.

Who knows our routines, our security protocols, our weaknesses.

Close enough to hurt us from the inside.

And I'm going to find them, no matter what it takes or what lines I have to cross.