Page 27 of Rogue Hope (Hope Landing: New Recruits #4)

The secure phone vibrated against the nightstand, jolting Zara awake.

Almost dawn. She reached for the phone.

Harrison’s encrypted signal pattern. Heart racing, she answered.

“You survived,” Harrison’s voice was relief wrapped in tension. “Good. Reports suggested casualties at Phoenix.”

“We made it out,” she whispered, glancing at the bedroom door, ensuring it remained closed between her and where Finn slept on the couch. “Barely.”

“Someone knew you were coming,” Harrison said, not a question but an accusation.

Zara’s hand tightened on the phone. “Affirmative. The building was rigged to blow.”

A weighted pause hung between them. Then: “How confident are you in Novak’s loyalties?”

The question hit like ice water. “What exactly are you implying?”

“Nothing specific.” The familiar voice softened into the paternal tone that had guided her career. “But the timing is ... troubling. You reconnect with Novak, there’s a bomb.”

“He was inside with me,” she insisted, though doubt crept at the edges of her certainty. “He saved my life.”

“Of course he did,” Harrison replied with practiced smoothness. “Not suggesting he planned it. But his presence creates vulnerabilities. Information travels.”

Pain flared—sharp, demanding attention. Bad timing. She pressed her palm against the mattress, focusing on the solid surface as the room tilted slightly.

“I’m worried about you, Mockingbird. This operation’s gone from complex to lethal. Consider reading in additional assets?”

“We’re handling it,” she managed, even as her fingers stiffened painfully. “I’ll update when I have more.”

His voice dropped lower. “Don’t forget. Loyalty to others should never outweigh commitment to truth.”

Fair enough. But where, exactly, was the truth?

The call ended, leaving her staring at the blank screen. Betrayal twisted in her stomach—not from the old spymaster’s suspicions, but from her own flickering doubt about Finn.

Which pricked her with guilt. After everything they’d been through, how could she question him now?

She tried to stand, needing her medication from her go-bag across the room. Her legs buckled immediately, sending her back onto the bed. Punishment for yesterday’s trauma and stress.

“Not now ,” she whispered.

A soft knock at the door. “Zara?” Finn’s voice, alert despite sleep’s roughness.

She straightened despite screaming muscles. “I’m fine.”

The door opened anyway. Finn took one assessing look at her rigid posture, her white-knuckled grip on the mattress. “Medication in your bag?”

The simple question—no pity, just practicality—broke through her defenses. She nodded once.

He retrieved her go-bag and placed it beside her.

She fished out her meds from the hidden compartment with trembling fingers.

As she swallowed the pills, Finn leaned against the dresser, maintaining distance. “We need to talk about how you got that intel pointing to Phoenix.”

Her defenses snapped back up. “Why does that matter now?”

“Hello? Explosion? Almost died? Come on, Zara. The location was compromised.”

The medication hadn’t kicked in yet, leaving her raw, exposed. Harrison’s warnings about Finn echoed in her mind, colliding with the evidence of Finn’s own actions—how he’d shielded her from the blast, his gentle care this morning.

The logical part of her brain ran cold calculations. Harrison had directed them to a location that was rigged to explode. The timing was suspect. The bomb had been waiting. These were facts.

But Harrison? The man who’d rebuilt her career, mentored her through her darkest days after Finn’s betrayal? The rock-solid intelligence veteran with thirty years of spotless service? She couldn’t believe it. Wouldn’t. And yet ...

And then there was Finn. Conveniently onsite for the explosion. Saving her should have erased all doubt about his intentions.

Or it was a deliberate mind game. Risky, for sure, but the Finn she knew—the ultimate hacker—never went anything but all in.

She battled the competing instincts—protect her source or help Finn. Trust Harrison, or trust the evidence. If she named Harrison, she’d be placing suspicion on the one person who’d never let her down.

If she didn’t, she might be endangering everyone.

And there was a third option. What if Cipher was playing them all—setting Harrison up just as she’d initially believed Finn had been framed? The mastermind had demonstrated that level of manipulation before.

She met Finn’s steady gaze, recognizing the patience there. He wasn’t pushing, just waiting. Something in that patience, that respect for her process, tipped the scales.

“Harrison,” she admitted finally, the name feeling like a betrayal on her tongue. She watched for his reaction, ready to defend her mentor at the first sign of accusation.

Recognition flashed in his eyes. “Reynolds? You’re still in contact with the old guy? You’ve been out of the agency for three years. Isn’t that … weird?”

“Only for someone who has no trusted friends.”

Finn absorbed the blow without flinching. “And he specifically directed you to Phoenix?”

She didn’t need to respond.

Silence stretched between them as Finn processed. “Has Reynolds been your primary intelligence source throughout?”

“He rebuilt my career from the ashes you left,” she snapped, defensive heat rising. “He’s never given me reason to doubt him.”

“I’m not accusing,” Finn said carefully. “Just mapping possibilities. If Reynolds provided that location, there are only three options: his intel was compromised, he’s being manipulated, or ...”

The unspoken third option hung in the air.

“Harrison Reynolds is not working with Cipher,” Zara stated, though mathematical possibility flickered at the edges of her certainty.

“Director Breen wasn’t either,” Finn said quietly. “Until he was.”

Too true. Breen had been untouchable—until he wasn’t.

“We need to verify Reynolds’ activities,” Finn continued, his tone neutral. “Not because I suspect him. Because we can’t afford blind spots.”

Her analytical training battled emotional loyalty. Logic won.

“Fine. But I don’t want him to know.”

A pained look crossed his face. “All I can promise is we’ll do our best.”

Before she could respond, her phone screen lit up with messages.

Izzy: Anyone heard from the Victoria-Lawrence vanishing act? Also suspicious that Ronan and Maya keep sneaking off for “urgent calls” at the exact same time.

Kenji: CONSPIRACY BOARD ACTIVATED. Current odds: 5:1 they’re on a covert op that involves buffets, 3:1 they’re matchmaking for their kids who don’t know they’re matchmaking them, 2:1 they’ve formed an elderly crime-fighting duo.

Deke: Elderly crime-fighters gets my vote. Victoria would absolutely have a cape with shoulder pads and sensible boots. Lawrence would be the “I’m too old for this” partner with unexpected ninja skills.

Axel: I caught Ronan and Maya whispering behind the equipment shed yesterday. He actually BLUSHED. RONAN QUINN BLUSHED. Either they’re planning to overthrow Cipher together or they’re secretly dating and think none of us with actual trained observational skills have noticed.

Kenji: Yo, Khoury. Thoughts? Wild guesses? Juicy conspiracy theories?

Despite everything, Zara laughed. She was so thankful she’d taken the time to triple-encrypt their private cell link. Their normalcy was an anchor in chaos.

“How’s the team?” Finn asked. “Anything I need to know?”

She was in the middle of formulating a coherent response when her phone dinged again.

Izzy: Might just stay on the coast permanently if you guys keep acting like weirdos. Also, bringing you all back sourdough from that bakery you like. Not that you deserve it.

The medication began dulling pain’s sharp edges. Clarity returned. She smiled again, waggling her phone. “Just the team checking in.”

Finn shoved his hands in his pants pockets. “Nice. I’m glad you’ve got them, Z.”

“Breakfast, then we do some digging on Harrison,” she conceded. “Basic verification only. Just to eliminate variables.”

Finn nodded, asking nothing more. “That’s all I need.”

As they prowled the kitchen, Zara caught his expression—not triumph, not judgment, but understanding. He recognized the cost of investigating someone you trusted.

Or at least he pretended to.

Artifice was, after all, one of his superpowers.

But was it Harrison’s, too?

The bitter truth of intelligence work: Information without trust was just data. And right now, she was drowning in data while starving for truth.