Page 37 of Rogue Hope (Hope Landing: New Recruits #4)

The morning light filtered through the bamboo blinds, casting gold-tinted patterns across the scattered documents.

Finn rubbed his eyes, fatigued after hours of methodical analysis.

Three cups of coffee sat empty beside his laptop, testament to the night’s work.

Across the table, Zara maintained her focused silence.

He allowed himself a moment to simply watch her—the slight furrow between her brows when she encountered something puzzling, the unconscious habit of tucking her hair behind her ear when deep in concentration.

These small, familiar gestures stirred something profound within him that he’d been trying to suppress for weeks.

Hope.

Dangerous, vulnerable hope that perhaps they might find their way back—not to what they’d been before, but to something new. Something honest.

He’d made peace with the possibility that she might never trust him romantically again.

That bridge had burned spectacularly in Paris.

But these past days had shown him glimpses of a different future—one where they could at least work together, perhaps even rebuild a friendship from the ashes of what they’d lost.

It was more than he deserved, and yet he found himself wanting more.

“I think I found something,” he said, breaking the comfortable silence. “A recurring cipher key in the Winterfell Protocol references. It appears in transmissions from three different secure servers.”

Zara looked up, her expression attentive but guarded. “Show me.”

He turned his screen toward her, leaning closer as she studied the pattern he’d identified.

The faint scent of her shampoo—something with lavender and mint—triggered a cascade of memories: laughing together during their first joint tail through the Sixth Arrondissement, her head resting against his shoulder during a long surveillance operation outside a crowded café, and the way she’d looked at him, truly seen him, before he’d destroyed everything.

“Good catch,” she acknowledged, her voice oddly flat. “This could give us a way to track the protocol’s implementation timeline.”

“Exactly what I was thinking.” He smiled, feeling a small thrill at their synchronized analysis. “If we cross-reference these timestamps with known Cipher operations?—”

“We might identify their operational patterns,” she finished, already turning back to her own computer. “I’ll start the analysis.”

Her withdrawal was subtle but unmistakable.

She’d been increasingly distant since yesterday afternoon—working more independently, excusing herself frequently, maintaining physical space between them.

Finn had attributed it to her health, noticing the slight stiffness in her movements that signaled increasing joint pain.

“How are you feeling today?” he asked gently.

Something flickered across her face—an emotion he couldn’t quite identify before it disappeared behind her careful mask. “I’m managing,” she replied. “Just tired.”

“You should rest,” he suggested, concern coloring his voice. “I can continue alone for a while.”

“I’m fine,” she insisted, though she wouldn’t meet his eyes. “Let’s just focus on the work.”

Finn nodded, respecting her boundaries while silently vowing to watch her more carefully.

Lupus was unpredictable; he’d learned that much from his research since learning of her diagnosis.

If they were going to continue working together—perhaps even rebuild something of what they’d lost—he needed to understand her condition, to support her through the inevitable difficult days.

The thought caught him off guard with its presumption of a shared future. When had he started thinking in those terms again? When had he allowed himself to hope?

They worked in companionable silence for another hour, making incremental progress tracing Cipher’s digital fingerprints. Occasionally, their findings would intersect, creating moments of shared discovery that felt achingly familiar—echoes of their brief but intense partnership.

“I need some air,” Zara announced suddenly, rising from her seat. “And my medication. Back in ten.”

“Take your time,” Finn replied, watching with concern as she moved gingerly toward her room. Her posture betrayed discomfort, reinforcing his suspicion that she was experiencing a mild flare.

Alone in the living room, Finn stretched and moved to the windows, scanning the perimeter out of habit.

The coastal property remained secure, isolated enough to provide safety while maintaining escape routes if needed.

He’d chosen this location years ago precisely for these features, never imagining he’d one day share it with Zara under such circumstances.

His gaze caught on a framed photograph on the wall—an impersonal landscape that came with the property. What would it be like to have personal photographs here instead? Evidence of a life shared, moments captured?

The fantasy unfurled unbidden. Zara laughing on the beach below, both of them standing on the balcony watching a sunset, perhaps even?—

A sound outside interrupted his thoughts—so faint most would miss it. But Finn’s senses, honed by years of operations, instantly registered the anomaly. Something wasn’t right.

He moved silently toward his weapon, concealed in a holster beneath the desk. As his fingers closed around the grip, the front door burst open with explosive force.

Six figures poured through in formation. Ronan in the lead, followed by Deke, Griff, Axel, Kenji, and a petite tattooed woman with a fierce expression. Knight Tactical’s elite team in full gear, weapons raised and aimed directly at his center mass.

“Hands where we can see them, Novak!” Ronan’s command cut through the room. “Now!”

Finn’s assessment was immediate and conclusive: no viable escape route, no defensive position, no possibility of overcoming six highly trained operatives. His weapon remained half-drawn, useless.

“Easy,” he said calmly, slowly raising his hands. “No need for bloodshed.”

His eyes darted toward the hallway where Zara had disappeared, expecting to see her emerge in confusion or alarm. Instead, she appeared in the doorway, standing with practiced calm, her expression carefully neutral. No surprise. No confusion. No outrage at the team’s intrusion.

Just grim resolution.

The truth hit him with devastating clarity. She had called them. She had orchestrated this.

“Zara?” Her name escaped his lips as a question, a plea for this not to be what it appeared.

Her eyes met his, steel-cold and unreachable. “Secure him. Full restraints. He’s dangerous.”

“Yeah,” the smaller woman added, glaring into his eyes. “Best get him out of my sight before I deck him.”

Deke and Griff moved forward efficiently, forcing Finn to his knees before securing his wrists with zip ties. He offered no resistance, his body responding automatically while his mind struggled to process the catastrophic collapse of everything he’d believed.

“Why?” he asked quietly as they pulled him to his feet, the single word containing multitudes of questions.

Zara watched him with clinical detachment, her expression betraying nothing of what lay beneath. “You’re a Cipher operative,” she stated flatly. “I found the evidence. Digital communications, access patterns to planted evidence, operational timelines. It’s over, Finn.”

The accusation was so unexpected, so wildly inaccurate, that for a moment Finn could only stare in disbelief. “That’s impossible. I’ve been hunting Cipher, not working for them. You know that.”

“Sure,” she replied, her voice hardening. “I trusted you once before. I won’t make that mistake again.”

As the team began moving him toward the door, Finn maintained eye contact with Zara, searching desperately for any hint of the connection he’d believed they were rebuilding.

“Whatever evidence you found was planted,” he insisted. “Zara, please. You’ve been manipulated.”

Something flickered in her eyes—uncertainty? doubt?—but it vanished so quickly he might have imagined it.

“Take him,” she instructed Ronan. “I’ll follow with the evidence.”

As they led him outside to a waiting vehicle, Finn’s mind raced through possible explanations. Someone had gone to extraordinary lengths to convince Zara he was working for Cipher. Someone wanted him eliminated from the investigation. Someone feared what he might discover.

The practical implications were secondary to the personal devastation. She had believed the worst of him. Again. After everything they’d shared, after the tentative trust they’d begun rebuilding, she had accepted a fabricated narrative without confronting him.

The vehicle door closed behind him, cutting off his last view of Zara standing on the villa steps, her face impassive as she watched him taken away.

In that moment, something broke inside Finn that no amount of meditation or spiritual awakening could repair. He had foolishly allowed himself to hope, to dream of redemption.

The lesson, finally learned too late. Some bridges, once burned, leave nothing but ashes.