Page 157 of Only the Wicked

“She’s investigating a shady firm. You’d think after today she’d let me hire private investigators but she won’t listen. I’m not sure I can trust the outfit I used to hire a protection detail in D.C., so I’ll ask Hudson.”

“It’s not exactly what KOAN does, but I’m sure he’ll help you out. Or he’ll know resources. But, what about everything else? Does today impact ARGUS?”

He’s quiet for a moment, gathering thoughts. “Well, there’s going to be a congressional investigation. Multiple ones, probably. The Senate Intelligence Committee is already drafting subpoenas.” His voice remains steady, but I can feel the tension beneath. “I might need to shut ARGUS down entirely.”

I shift up onto my elbow, searching his face in the dim light. “Do you think it will come to that?”

“Maybe.” His eyes meet mine, resolute despite the exhaustion. “What I know for certain is that I won’t let any government commandeer it—not after what we’ve seen. Our government already proved it doesn’t deserve that level of trust. There are too many cracks in the system, too many opportunities for someone with selfish motives to take advantage.”

His hand finds mine, fingers interlacing. “If I continue operating ARGUS, it will be with an independent oversight committee. People I trust, with diverse backgrounds—ethics experts, civil liberties advocates, technical specialists. No single entity should control that kind of power.”

The conviction in his voice reminds me why I came to trust him in the first place. This isn’t about profit or power—it’s about responsibility.

“You should talk to Hudson,” I suggest, an idea forming. “Our mission aligns with your ethics—using technology to hold powerful people accountable when traditional systems fail. ARGUS could help root out corruption rather than enabling it.”

His expression shifts, interest kindling. “A partnership rather than government oversight.”

“Exactly. The technology isn’t inherently problematic—it’s how it’s used. In the right hands, with the right guardrails…”

“It could do what I originally designed it for—making the world more transparent, not less.” A genuine smile touches his lips. “I’d need to meet with Hudson, understand KOAN’s structure better.”

“Caroline’s open to it,” I say.

“Caroline Moore? Dorian Moore? He’s the one behind KOAN?”

“No. It’s all Caroline. It’s her baby. I don’t know why she’s so secretive about it. I’ll need to ask. But I like the idea of KOAN and ARGUS working together.” I hesitate, then add, “And I could help navigate. I understand both worlds now.”

The possibility hangs between us—not just a personal future, but a professional one where our separate skills might create something better than either could achieve alone.

“We’d be like Prometheus and Athena,” he says softly.

“How so?”

“Bringing fire and wisdom to humanity.” His fingers, the ones that have been brushing up and down my arm in comforting strokes, slow. “Do you really find mythology interesting? Or was that part of the cover?”

“I find it interesting because you do,” I admit, honesty feeling easier in the darkness. “The same way you might find intelligence operations interesting because of me.”

“Got it.” His fingers trace lazy patterns along my arm. “Meeting halfway.”

“While I find mythology and philosophy interesting, I wouldn’t choose to read Campbell’s Hero with a Thousand Faces on vacation if left to my own devices.” I smile against his chest, remembering my studious preparation.

His chest rumbles with quiet laughter. “Did you actually read that by the pool or something?”

“Yes. And I strategically positioned it in my lap in the hotel lobby, hoping you’d notice.” The confession feels lighter now, almost amusing in retrospect.

“I never noticed the book,” he admits. “All I saw was this outdoorsy, stubborn, determined woman who struck me as quite different from anyone I’d ever met. Someone who challenged me from the first moment—on the trail, in conversation. Someone who reminded me that with the right person, life can be pretty fucking great.”

“I’m still all of those things,” I remind him, suddenly needing him to understand that my cover wasn’t entirely fabrication. “At least, I hope.”

His hand finds mine in the darkness, our fingers interlacing with the easy familiarity of much older lovers. “That’s what makes this real,” he says quietly. “The parts that remain true despite everything.” He presses his lips to my hair, and his chest rises and falls through a deep inhale and exhale. “Was there anything else? That wasn’t true?”

I consider. “I tried to keep my story as close to the truth as possible.”

“You didn’t know what ARGUS could uncover.”

“Right, but it’s also just smart practice.” I circle his nipple with my nail, thoughtful. “I told you my parents live in Alaska.”

“Yeah?”