Page 38 of Rogue Hope (Hope Landing: New Recruits #4)

Zara watched Finn’s processing through the observation window, fighting to keep her face neutral. Control was her specialty—had been since her CIA days—but the look on his face when they’d taken him into custody in Malaysia had cracked something inside her.

“You sure you want to babysit this?” Ronan appeared beside her, arms crossed over his broad chest. “Axel can handle the intake procedures.”

“I’m fine.” She squared her shoulders, ignoring the first warning twinge in her wrist.

“Nobody said you weren’t.” Ronan studied her face. “But it’s not weakness to step back when you’re personally involved.”

“I’m not personally involved.” The lie tasted like metal. “I just want everything done by the book. We know what he’s capable of.”

So why couldn’t she shake the memory of his face when her team burst into the safehouse? Not anger or calculation—just raw, genuine hurt.

“Reese’s team checked in from Eastern Europe,” Ronan said. “Mission’s running long. We’ll have the facility to ourselves at least another week.”

“We don’t need Jack’s team for this.” Zara watched as Axel guided Finn toward the biometric scanner. “High-value detainees are nothing new.”

“Maybe.” Ronan frowned. “But I don’t like the timing.”

Pain shot through Zara’s wrist and into her forearm—first warning of a flare. She discreetly massaged the joint. “We follow the evidence. That’s all we can do.”

The pain intensified. Too many sleepless nights. Too much caffeine. Too much adrenaline since Phoenix went sideways. Her body was sending signals she couldn’t afford to acknowledge.

Not now. Not with Cipher’s key operative in custody.

“I need to finish the intake.” She moved toward the door.

“Zara.” Ronan’s voice stopped her. “Remember who we’re dealing with. Don’t let your history cloud your judgment.”

She met his gaze levelly. “My history is exactly why I won’t underestimate him.”

Down in processing, Finn stood stock-still as the scanner mapped his biometrics. His dark hair fell across his forehead, longer than Paris. The stubble along his jaw hadn’t been there before. It made him look dangerous.

And tired. So very tired.

“Subject confirmed. Finn Stevenson Novak,” the system announced. “Identity verified.”

Finn raised his eyes to hers—their first real eye contact since Malaysia. The intensity nearly knocked her back a step.

“I need five minutes with Zara,” he said quietly. “Alone.”

Axel laughed. “Negative, dude. No. Way.”

“Zara.” Just her name. A plea.

She felt Ronan tense beside her, waiting.

“Lock him down,” she ordered, turning away. “I’ll complete the report.”

She marched from the room, each step carefully measured despite the bone-deep fatigue settling in. Only in her office did she allow the mask to slip.

Sinking into her chair, Zara dropped her head into her hands. The pain was unmistakable now. She fumbled through her desk drawer for medication, swallowing the pills dry.

Lord, give me clarity. Please.

Her computer chimed. Harrison Reynolds’ ID flashed on screen.

Taking a steadying breath, she accepted the call. Reynolds appeared, silver hair perfectly styled, expression pleased.

“Zara. Excellent work in Malaysia.” His voice carried that particular warmth he reserved for his protégés. “Just got confirmation that Novak is in custody.”

“Yes, sir.” Formality helped maintain distance. Helped her think. “The evidence was conclusive.”

“As I knew it would be.” Reynolds’ smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Your analytical skills were always exceptional. He picked the wrong agent to retarget.”

Zara nodded, uncomfortable with praise that once would have meant everything. Reynolds had been her mentor, the one who believed in her when others questioned her capabilities. His confidence had shaped her career.

“I’m sending additional files,” Reynolds continued. “Final pieces connecting Novak to Phoenix. We’ll need them for the official record.”

“Of course.” Zara hesitated. “Sir, the evidence we’ve gathered—it’s comprehensive, but?—”

“But you’re wondering if I’ve been too thorough?” Reynolds finished, his smile knowing. “Second thoughts are natural, Zara, especially given your history with the subject. Remember, men like Novak are masters of deception. Your personal connection is precisely what he tried to exploit.”

The words hit uncomfortably close to her own doubts.

“I understand, sir.”

“I’ll be in touch.” Reynolds nodded. “And Zara? Well done. Truly.”

The connection terminated, leaving Zara staring at her reflection in the blank screen. Why did his praise leave her cold?

She pulled up the case files, reviewing them for the hundredth time. Server logs. Financial transactions. Communications. All pointing to Finn as Cipher’s operative.

Yet something nagged at her. A pattern too perfect. A trail too easy to follow once she knew where to look.

She zoomed in on a server access timestamp. July 17, 0214 hours.

That server should have been offline from 0200 to 0330.

A simple error? Clock syncing issues happened all the time.

Or something more?

Her fingers flew across the keyboard despite growing stiffness. If there was one discrepancy, there might be others.

Three hours later, her suspicions had snowballed. Three more timestamp anomalies. A financial transaction processed during a banking holiday. Communications that matched known Cipher patterns too perfectly, as if deliberately mimicking them.

The pain behind her eyes intensified as her hands and arms protested hours of typing. She needed rest, needed clarity.

But the voice in her head—the one that had kept her alive through years of fieldwork—whispered that something was very wrong with the case against Finn Novak.

Her secure phone chimed. Harrison again.

“I’ve sent the additional files,” he said without greeting. “Review them immediately. They contain time-sensitive information about Cipher’s next targets.”

“That’ll be helpful. Thank you.”

As she ended the call, Zara stared at the incoming data package. Her instincts screamed caution. What if Reynolds himself had fabricated the evidence? What if Finn had been telling the truth?

A wave of dizziness hit as she stood. Her symptoms were escalating, her body demanding rest she couldn’t afford. Not now. Not when everything she thought she knew might be built on lies.