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

The headquarters stood silent, windows dark as she unlocked the side entrance. No one else would arrive for hours—a rare window of absolute privacy she desperately needed. The pain was more intense this morning, punishment for yesterday’s stress and her restless night.

The quiet of early morning usually brought clarity and focus—a chance to work without interruption. Today, it only amplified her sense of isolation as she initiated a comprehensive security sweep of Knight Tactical’s digital infrastructure.

She bent over her keyboard, setting up tracking algorithms and initiating trace programs she’d developed during her CIA days.

If someone had penetrated their system deeply enough to monitor her activities, they would have left digital footprints somewhere.

Nothing stayed perfectly hidden in cyberspace, not even from someone with her skills.

Or so she had believed.

Three hours later, frustration and anxiety competed for dominance as she hit another dead end.

Every IP address she traced led to phantom proxies that dissolved when she got close.

Encrypted pathways vanished into digital thin air.

Security logs showed no unauthorized access, yet the message indicated intimate knowledge of her actions.

“This isn’t possible,” she muttered, pushing away from her desk and pacing the length of her office. The Eastern Sierra mountains gleamed in the morning sunlight beyond her window, their peaceful majesty a stark contrast to her inner turmoil.

She’d encountered sophisticated defenses before, both at the CIA and in her work with Knight Tactical, but this was different.

The tactics weren’t just advanced—they were eerily familiar, as if the intruder knew exactly how she would try to find them and had prepared specific countermeasures just for her.

The thought sent an uncomfortable chill through her. Few people could anticipate her cybersecurity methods. Most of them were either former colleagues or ...

Zara shook her head sharply, refusing to let her mind wander down that particular path. Some ghosts were better left undisturbed.

A burst of laughter from downstairs broke her concentration. The team must have arrived for the final day of float preparations. Tomorrow was the parade, and judging by the escalating enthusiasm she’d witnessed over the past week, the Knights were taking the competition very seriously.

She saved her work, locked her system, and headed downstairs. Perhaps a brief break would reset her perspective, allowing her to see a pattern she’d missed.

The scene in the hangar was controlled chaos.

What had been a skeletal framework of a pirate ship two days ago now resembled something from a Hollywood set.

The wooden deck gleamed with fresh stain, the mast rose majestically toward the hangar ceiling, and hand-painted details adorned every visible surface.

Deke stood at the center, safety glasses pushed up on his forehead, clipboard in hand, directing operations.

“Griff, dude, we need those cannon portals functional in the next hour. Ronan, Maya—that sail needs to be secured at exactly thirty-seven degrees or the whole thing will catch the first breeze and capsize in the middle of Main Street.”

“Aye aye, Captain Control-Freak,” Griffin replied, the typically taciturn sniper actually smiling as he saluted with a paintbrush.

“I’m creating a maritime masterpiece here, Hawkins,” Deke shot back, though his eyes crinkled with amusement. “Details matter.”

“So does beating Christian and his team,” Axel added, carefully attaching LED lights along the gunwale. “I mean, let’s be honest. It’s all about beating Knight Tactical--the OG crew.”

A collective groan rose from the group. The two Knight Tactical teams took any chance to compete. And the Old Guard was running two wins ahead. For now.

“No worries,” DJ reported, not looking up from the control panel he was programming.

“Have you seen their float?” He snorted, the sound heavy with derision in the way only a teenage boy could manage.

“Lame-o-rama. I saw Christian at the craft store yesterday buying Roman shields made out of tin foil.”

“You’re spying on them?” Zara asked, unable to suppress a smile as she approached.

“Gathering intelligence,” DJ corrected with mock seriousness. “Dad calls it ‘competitive awareness.’”

“I call it being fifteen and having too much time on your hands,” Deke retorted, but he ruffled his son’s hair affectionately.

“Whatever works,” Ronan called from his perch on the mast. “Jack’s still sore about losing that pickleball match to us last month. I wouldn’t put it past him to build the Taj Mahal just to one-up us.”

“With Star Rodriguez designing it? We should worry,” Maya agreed, passing tools up to her fiancé. “That woman could make a cardboard box look like a design masterpiece.”

The easy banter continued as Zara circled the impressive construction.

Despite the underlying competition, there was genuine affection in the team’s references to their colleagues.

Though the two units generally functioned separately, Ronan’s half-brother, Christian, had been instrumental in bringing Zara’s team onboard.

They owed their new lives to the original team. None of them would forget it.

“Earth to Zara,” Kenji’s voice broke through her thoughts. He stood beside her, holding out a steaming mug of coffee. “You look like you’re plotting a cybersecurity algorithm instead of appreciating our maritime ingenuity.”

“Just admiring the craftsmanship,” she lied smoothly, accepting the coffee. “It’s impressive.”

“It better be. We’ve put more collective man-hours into this float than our last three government contracts combined.” He studied her face, his medical training evident in his assessing gaze. “How are you feeling this morning?”

“Fine,” she said automatically.

“The universal response of someone who is decidedly not fine,” he observed. “Fever?”

“Gone.” That, at least, was true. Her temperature had normalized overnight.

Kenji opened his mouth to ask another question when Zara’s phone vibrated in her pocket.

Her heartbeat jumped as she tried to turn away casually. Everyone on the team was here.

Her stomach dropped.

Expect instructions in three days. Comply, or your life as you know it ends.

The same unknown number. The same untraceable sender. The same threat that seemed to know exactly when she was most vulnerable.

“You okay?” Kenji asked, instantly alert to her change in expression. “You just went pale.”

Zara forced a smile, slipping the phone back into her pocket. “Just remembered I forgot to run the final encryption sequence for the Westland contract. Nothing critical.”

He didn’t look convinced, but before he could question her further, Deke called for his assistance with the mast installation.

“Don’t think this conversation is over,” Kenji warned as he slid under the float.

Alone again, Zara read the message once more. The timeline was specific—three days. After the parade. After the holiday celebrations. As if the sender knew exactly what was happening in Hope Landing and had timed their threat accordingly.

She looked around at her team—her family—working together with enthusiasm and laughter. They deserved this moment of carefree joy, especially after the intensity of their recent contracts. How could she disrupt that with threats that might be nothing more than someone’s sick idea of a joke?

But what if it wasn’t a joke? What if waiting put them all at risk?

The internal debate raged as she sipped her coffee, watching Axel and Griffin argue good-naturedly about the proper angle for the ship’s figurehead.

Deke was now fully engaged in directing the crow’s nest installation, with DJ providing running commentary that had Maya doubled over with laughter.

Ronan’s face glowed with love as he watched his fiancée, his hand absently touching the pocket where Zara knew he kept the wedding band she’d helped him select last month.

These people had become her world after the CIA—the family she’d never expected to find. They’d earned her trust, her loyalty, and her protection.

“Two days,” she decided silently. She would give herself two more days to identify the threat independently. If she couldn’t make progress by then—the day after the parade—she would bring the team in fully.

“Need an extra pair of hands?” she called to Deke, setting aside her coffee mug. “Or am I too late to claim a role in this maritime masterpiece?”

“Just in time,” he replied with a grin. “We need someone to test the plank. How do you feel about being our practice pirate prisoner?”

She crossed her arms. “You’re asking a woman who hacks government databases for fun to voluntarily walk to her watery doom? Did you also invite sharks to the parade?”

“The kiddie pool is six inches deep,” Deke deadpanned.

“And yet somehow Kenji managed to nearly drown in it,” Axel called from behind a cardboard sail.

“That was ONE time!” Kenji protested from somewhere beneath the float. “I was demonstrating a rescue maneuver!”

“You tripped over your own shoelace and faceplanted,” Deke corrected. “While holding nachos.”

“Which you refused to share,” Axel added.

Zara laughed, the sound feeling foreign after her tense morning. “I’ll help, but only if I get to wear the captain’s hat. I have a strict ‘no walking planks without proper headgear’ policy.”

“Done,” Deke said, tossing her a plastic tricorn with a peacock feather that had seen better days. “Though fair warning—last person who wore that was Kenji, and we all know about his relationship with personal hygiene.”

“I’m literally right here,” came the muffled comment.

“And we can smell you,” Ronan and Deke replied in unison.

For the next hour, she lost herself in the creative chaos, laughing with her teammates as they put the finishing touches on their float. Outwardly, she matched their enthusiasm, but internally, she renewed her promise to protect them, no matter what personal cost she might face.

Three days. Whatever instructions arrived, whatever threat loomed, she would face it with the same determination that had carried her through the darkest moments of her life. Faith didn’t mean absence of fear—it meant finding courage despite it.

“Lord, give me strength,” she whispered almost inaudibly as she handed Griff a hammer. “And wisdom to know when to stand alone and when to ask for help.”

The answer might determine whether her life as she knew it truly ended, as the message had threatened. But more importantly, it might determine whether the people she loved remained safe from whatever storm was gathering on the horizon.