Page 13 of Rogue Hope (Hope Landing: New Recruits #4)

“No.” The word was out of Zara’s mouth before her brain even engaged. “No way I work with him.”

Six pairs of eyes turned toward her—some surprised, others understanding, none backing down. She felt the weight of their collective assessment and stood her ground, refusing to flinch.

“Zara,” Ronan began. “This isn’t about personal history. It’s about utilizing available resources against an immediate threat.”

“Available resources?” She couldn’t keep the incredulity from her voice. “He’s the reason we’re in this mess. Cipher wouldn’t be targeting me if not for my connection to him.”

“That’s speculation,” Kenji pointed out carefully. “Cipher could be targeting you specifically for your skillset. Your history with Finn might be incidental.”

“Nothing about Finn Novak is incidental,” she countered, the bitterness in her tone unmistakable.

Finn remained silent. His apparent calm only fueled her irritation.

“The objective facts”—Griffin interjected, tapping the evidence displayed on the screen—“indicate that Cipher has been operational longer than Finn’s reappearance in your life. The threats began before he showed up.”

“And maybe that’s exactly what he wants us to think,” she insisted, throwing a sharp glance toward Finn. “The perfect setup—create a threat, then position yourself as the solution.”

Maya leaned forward, eyes narrowed. “You think he’s playing us?”

“I think he’s always playing everyone.” She met Finn’s gaze directly. “That’s what he does.”

“That’s a fair assessment.” Finn’s calm acknowledgment surprised her. “I was exactly that person seven years ago. The question isn’t whether I played people then. I did. It’s whether I’m playing you now.”

The directness of his response derailed her argument.

Deke, who had been silently examining the technical specifications of the Vanguard surveillance equipment, looked up. “The tech is legit. Custom modifications consistent with previous Cipher operations. Not something easily fabricated.”

“The threats are also consistent with the way the Cipher operates,” Kenji added.

She fought down a surge of frustration. She felt cornered by the evidence, boxed in by her team’s growing acceptance of Finn’s information, and by the unmistakable reality of the threat displayed on her phone.

Her jaw tightened. “Sentinel Network isn’t some basic security system.

It’s designed specifically to prevent exactly this type of intrusion.

Multiple authentication layers, biometric verification, location plans.

Even with my knowledge of the architecture, forcing entry would trigger immediate countermeasures. ”

“When you put it that way, it sounds a little sketchy,” Finn acknowledged.

“It sounds insane,” she corrected.

“Do you have a better alternative?” Ronan asked, his focus entirely on her. “Ignoring the demand isn’t an option—not with Knight Tactical operations at risk. Direct confrontation would require knowing Vanguard’s location, which we don’t. Running isn’t viable with their surveillance capabilities.”

The logic was infuriatingly sound. She glanced around the table, seeking any sign of doubt or hesitation from her team. She found none.

“This isn’t just about operational risk,” she said finally, voice lower. “Sentinel Network contains identities of active deep-cover operatives. We can’t go there.”

“Even more reason for you to play along. Then you’ll control the access,” Kenji responded.

Deke nodded, clearly warming to the idea. “And like Finn suggested, you give Cipher the harmless intel he’s asking for and plant the tracer in it. We’ll find him, or at least be able to knock him offline before he can do any real damage.”

“And we design this in ten hours?” she challenged.

“Totally doable. I’ve spent seven years building a network of resources specifically designed to counter Cipher.” Finn’s quiet confidence grated on her nerves. “I’m not suggesting you trust me personally—I’m suggesting you utilize those resources. You can watch every move I make.”

She crossed her arms. “Count on it, cowboy.”

He grunted, a small smile on his lips.

“I need five minutes,” she said finally, standing abruptly. “Alone.”

Without waiting for a response, she stalked out the conference room into the adjacent office, closing the door firmly behind her.

Through the glass wall, she could see her team exchanging glances but making no move to follow.

They understood her need for space. One of the many reasons she valued them so deeply.

She pressed her palms against the cool surface of the desk, head bowed, breathing deliberately.

The logical part of her mind—the operative, the tactician—recognized the validity of the proposed approach.

A controlled engagement offered the best odds of neutralizing the threat while minimizing risk to Knight Tactical and its people.

But the part that still woke in cold sweats from dreams of Paris, the part that had spent years rebuilding her reputation and personal trust after Finn’s betrayal—that part screamed in protest at the idea of voluntarily reconnecting with him in any capacity.

Her phone buzzed with an incoming text. She glanced down, expecting one of her teammates checking on her.

If only.

Tick tock, Zara. Your team seems to think they can control this situation. They can’t. Neither can Novak.

She scanned the horizon, the empty runways out beyond the cluster of hangars, the parking lot below, any vantage point that might allow visual confirmation of their meeting.

Nothing obvious, but the message was clear.

Vanguard was watching. They knew Finn was here.

They knew her team was planning countermeasures.

None of that difficult to imagine, but still. She felt the pressure around her neck. Fingers squeezing …

The door opened behind her. She didn’t need to turn to know who it was—the particular quality of the silence told her.

“They’re getting pushy,” she said quietly, holding up her phone without turning.

Finn closed in, reading the message. “Expected. They know us both well. And they’ve done their homework. Don’t let them rent space in your head.”

No need for that warning. There wasn’t any space left there after Finn’s appearance.

She faced him. “If I do this—if we do this—I need something from you.”

“Name it.” No hesitation, no qualification.

“Absolute honesty.” Her voice was steel. “No hidden agendas, no convenient omissions, no creative interpretations of the truth. I need to know everything you know about Cipher, about Vanguard, about the operation in Paris seven years ago. Everything.”

“Agreed.”

“And when this is over—assuming we survive—you disappear. Completely. Permanently.”

Something flickered in his eyes—so briefly she might have imagined it—before his expression settled into calm acceptance. “If that’s what you want.”

“It is.”

“Done.” He met her gaze steadily. “Complete transparency now. Complete separation after.”

She nodded once, the decision made, though it felt less like choosing a path forward and more like accepting an inevitable collision course.

She turned back toward the conference room, where her team waited with varying expressions of concern and determination.

Through the glass, she could see Deke already outlining technical specifications on a tablet while Ronan and Axel planned the op.

Griffin was on the phone, likely calling in additional resources, while Kenji methodically organized the evidence Finn had provided.

Maya frowned, watching her with soft eyes.

They were already moving forward, preparing for the operation without her explicit agreement. They knew her well enough to recognize that despite personal objections, she’d make the logical choice.

She motioned Finn toward the door, following him back into the conference room. “Okay,” she said, as she entered. “But we do it my way.”

“Copy that. You’re lead,” Ronan confirmed, the ghost of a smile touching his lips. “Draft the response. Let’s get this ball rolling.”

As she composed a carefully worded reply to Cipher’s demand, she felt the weight of Finn’s gaze. She refused to look up, refused to acknowledge the complex emotions his presence stirred.

She hit send on the message, setting their dangerous plan in motion, and finally raised her eyes to meet his across the room.

What she saw there wasn’t the charming manipulator from Paris or the contrite intruder from her apartment last night.

She saw something far more dangerous—a focused operative with the same intensity and determination that drove her own actions.

She’d do well not to forget it. Or underestimate the man.