Page 16 of Rogue Hope (Hope Landing: New Recruits #4)

The conference room had transformed into a war room—data screens, maps, and the low hum of focused conversation filling the space.

Zara rolled her shoulders, trying to ease the persistent ache that had settled between her shoulder blades.

The medication she’d discreetly taken an hour ago should have helped by now, but stress had a way of amplifying symptoms.

“The second demand will be substantially higher stakes,” she said, verbalizing what everyone already knew. “Something that proves definitive access capability.”

Ronan nodded. “Question is, what specifically will they ask for?”

As if summoned by the question, her secure phone buzzed. The team fell silent as she read the message aloud.

Phase two requires demonstration of sustained network penetration. Access the Federal Intelligence Archive at Blackridge Secure Facility. Retrieve file designation A7-2214X. Mr. Novak’s expertise regarding Blackridge’s security architecture would be advantageous.

She looked up, meeting Finn’s tense gaze. “Blackridge? That’s?—”

“A ghost site,” he finished. “Officially doesn’t exist. Remote mountain facility in Colorado. Houses physical archives too sensitive for digital storage.”

“How do you know about it?” Axel asked, suspicion evident.

“Because I helped design its perimeter security. I was CIA then, official and everything,” Finn replied evenly. “Before Paris. Before Cipher.”

The implication was clear. Before his betrayal. Before everything changed.

“This isn’t digital penetration,” Deke realized. “They want physical infiltration of a black site.”

“Impossible,” Griffin declared flatly. “Blackridge has three-layer security, military presence, and biometric checkpoints. Even with inside knowledge, you’d need weeks of prep.”

“Under normal circumstances,” Finn agreed, but his expression had shifted to something Zara recognized from their operational days—the calculating focus when he saw a solution others missed. “But there’s a vulnerability they don’t advertise.”

“Of course there is,” she muttered, unsurprised that he’d know something crucial the others didn’t.

“Blackridge conducts quarterly security system resets. Full shutdown of electronic countermeasures for approximately seven minutes while backup systems initialize.” His eyes met hers. “Next reset is scheduled for tomorrow. 0600 hours.”

“How convenient,” she remarked dryly. “Almost like Cipher knows the schedule.”

“He does,” Finn confirmed without defensiveness. “He has sources inside most secure facilities. That’s how he’s operated for years.”

“So we’re supposed to somehow get to Colorado, infiltrate a black site during a seven-minute window, retrieve a classified file, and extract—all in like ten hours?” Axel’s tone couldn’t disguise his disbelief.

“Ten hours, thirty-two minutes now,” Kenji corrected mildly, checking his watch.

Ronan remained characteristically calm. “Flight time in the Pilatus to Colorado is approximately three hours. We can do this.”

“Except for one problem,” Zara interjected. “Even with the security reset, we’d still need valid credentials to access the archive room. Not something we can fabricate in the available timeframe.”

Finn hesitated, drawing everyone’s attention. “There’s another way. But you’re not going to like it.”

“When do I ever?” she replied, already dreading his answer.

“I have access credentials,” he said simply. “Current ones.”

The room went still.

“How?” She had to know.

“I still do occasional contract work for the agencies that don’t officially exist,” he answered, holding her gaze steadily. “Including periodic security assessments of facilities like Blackridge.”

The revelation shouldn’t have surprised her, yet somehow it did. While she’d built a new life with Knight Tactical, Finn had apparently maintained connections to their former world—the shadow realm of deniable operations and classified facilities.

“Convenient,” she remarked, not bothering to hide her skepticism. “Almost suspiciously so.”

“I understand your concern,” he acknowledged. “But this is precisely why Cipher specified my involvement would be advantageous. He knows about my continued access.”

“Or he engineered this entire scenario specifically because of it,” she countered.

Griff looked like he’d just swallowed a bug. “Either way, it’s our only shot given the timeframe.”

Logic dictated agreement, but something deeper—instinct, perhaps, or hard-earned caution—made her hesitate. The twinge of pain didn’t help her concentration. She pressed her palms flat against the cool surface of the table, using the sensation to center herself.

“If we do this,” she said finally, “it’s a two-person operation only. Minimize exposure.”

“Agreed,” Ronan nodded. “You and Finn, with the team providing remote tactical support.”

“I’ll prep the aircraft,” Deke offered, already moving toward the door. “Full communication suite, minimal equipment footprint.”

“I’ll coordinate with our Colorado contacts,” Griffin added. “We’ll need ground transportation waiting.”

The team dispersed efficiently, leaving Zara and Finn alone. She felt his eyes on her but didn’t immediately look up, using the moment to collect herself, to push aside the physical discomfort that threatened to distract her from the mission parameters.

“You’re in pain,” he observed quietly.

Her head snapped up. “I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.” His voice held no accusation, just calm certainty. “Your right hand has been trembling intermittently for the past hour. You’re favoring your left side. And you’ve taken something—probably anti-inflammatory—at least twice today.”

The accuracy of his assessment was infuriating. “Your point?”

“No point. Just recognizing reality.” He gathered his tablet, apparently unwilling to push further. “Wheels up in ninety minutes?”

“Make it sixty,” she countered, refusing to acknowledge any limitation. “I need to brief Kenji on handling things here while we’re gone.”

He nodded once and moved toward the door, pausing briefly. “For what it’s worth, I wish I’d made different choices in Paris. Or before that. A long time before.”

Before she could formulate a response, he was gone, leaving her with the unsettling awareness that despite everything, she believed him. No. Back up. She wanted to believe him. A lot.

Her phone buzzed with an incoming group text.

Deke: Gulfstream almost prepped. Estimated departure 2015 hours.

Axel: Surveillance equipment loaded. Limited profile package only.

Griffin: Local assets confirmed in Colorado. Vehicle will be waiting.

Kenji: Medical kit prepped.

The last message made her pause gratefully. Kenji’s discreet acknowledgment of her condition without explicitly naming it was exactly why she trusted him with her diagnosis.

A second text chain dinged almost immediately:

Griffin: Anyone else notice Ronan taking another “private call” with Maya?

Axel: Third one today. Something’s up.

Deke: Twenty says they’re planning something personal.

Kenji: Fifty says engagement within three months.

Axel: You’re on.

Despite everything, Zara smiled. The team’s ability to maintain normalcy through humor, even amid crisis, was one of their greatest strengths.

She pocketed her phone and rose from the table, ignoring the stiffness in her body.

Nine hours remaining to infiltrate a black site, retrieve classified intelligence, and extract safely.

Not to mention scrub the intel of anything useful before handing it to Cipher, all while working alongside the one person who knew exactly how to get past her defenses.

The irony wasn’t lost on her. Seven years ago, a mission with Finn would have felt natural, even exhilarating. Now it felt like walking deliberately into a minefield, hyperaware of every potential misstep.

Grabbing her go-bag from beneath the conference table, she headed toward the prep room.

They would need specialized equipment for Blackridge—particularly if they were exploiting the security reset window.

The noise of the team preparing filled the corridor ahead, a comforting reminder that despite the personal complexity, she wasn’t facing this alone.

Finn was already in the prep room, checking gear while discussing facility specs with Griffin.

“Flight plan filed,” he reported. “Weather looks clear all the way to Colorado.”

“Good,” she replied, moving to the equipment table. “What’s our cover if we’re questioned?”

“Security consulting team,” Griffin answered. “Credentials are being finalized now. You’ll be conducting a scheduled assessment of archive integrity.”

“And if someone checks with central command?”

“My contact at the oversight office will confirm the assignment,” Finn assured her. “It’s solid.”

She nodded, sorting through the specialized equipment laid out before her. Electronic bypass tools, miniaturized scanner, non-metallic extraction case for the target file—everything prepped by a team that understood precision operations.

Her phone dinged again. Her heart hammered, but it was from Izzy:

Heard you’re off to play Mission Impossible with Tall, Dark & Complicated.

Nice work on the first hack! Maya’s keeping me updated.

Should I be concerned that you’re jetting off to remote locations with The Sleeze?

Because I can totally ditch this beach if you need backup.

Pretty sure I could take him. Well, catch him off-guard at least. Maybe with a heavy object.

The message eased something tight in her chest. Izzy’s unwavering support, wrapped in characteristic humor, provided a moment of normalcy in the increasingly surreal situation. She texted back:

Not necessary. Yet. So far, nothing I can’t handle. Enjoy your vacation. Will need full details when you return.

Finn zipped a go-bag. “The timing will be tight. We’ll need to be in position before the reset begins at 0600, access the archive during the seven-minute window, and exit before full systems come back online.”

“And if we miss the window?”

“Then we’re inside one of the most secure facilities in the country without authorization,” he replied evenly. “With a classified file in our possession.”

“Optimal outcome,” she summarized dryly.

The ghost of a smile touched his lips before disappearing. “Always.”

The familiar exchange—assessment of risk followed by gallows humor—struck an unexpected chord of memory. That easy rhythm of seasoned operatives who anticipated each other’s thoughts.

For just a moment, the years between them disappeared, the betrayal temporarily erased by the immediate demands of the mission.

Then reality reasserted itself as her phone buzzed with Cipher’s reminder:

Tick-tock. Time’s running out.

“Let’s move,” she said, shouldering her equipment bag.

As they headed toward the exit, she caught Ronan watching them with an expression she couldn’t quite interpret—concern, certainly, but something else. Something that looked almost like hope.

She dismissed the thought. Hope was a luxury she couldn’t afford right now. Not with Cipher counting down the hours. Not with Knight Tactical’s future at stake.

And certainly not with Finn Novak walking beside her, heading toward a facility designed to keep people like them out—a facility he somehow, conveniently, still had access to.

The questions remained: Was he truly on her side this time? And even if he was, would that be enough?