Page 62 of Shadowed Hearts: Frost (Nightfall Syndicate #2)

forty-three

Vanessa

" A gain."

Asher's voice cuts through my heavy breathing. I blow sweaty pink hair from my face and bounce on my toes. My heart pounds so hard I swear he can hear it echoing off the empty training room walls.

"You're thinking too much." He circles me like a predator. Those dark eyes miss nothing. "Your advantage isn't strength."

"Easy for you to say. Your brain works in straight lines." I wipe sweat from my forehead with the back of my hand.

"Yours doesn't. Use that."

He moves fast. His hand clamps around my wrist with exact pressure. The grip is textbook, what we've practiced for an hour. I should twist my arm, create space, slip away.

But then my brain does three things at once.

I drop low, duck under his arm, hook my ankle behind his. My free hand pushes his elbow joint while I pivot. The combination isn't anything he taught me. It's just what happens when my thoughts zigzag everywhere at once.

Asher stumbles sideways. He doesn't fall, no…too trained for that, but his eyes go wide.

"Holy shit, that worked!" I bounce on my toes, pure excitement fizzing through me. "Did you see that? I totally just—"

Heat floods my chest when his expression changes. The cold calculation melts into something I rarely see. Approval. Real, genuine approval that makes my skin tingle.

"Work with your patterns, not against them." His voice is warmer now. He steps closer, hands adjusting my stance with gentle touches that send sparks up my arms. "Your mind makes connections mine doesn't."

"So I should just... wing it?"

"Smart chaos can beat predictable technique."

My chest swells with weird pride. My scattered brain is working properly for once.

It's useful.

Movement catches my eye. Kade leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching us.

"Not bad, Reyes." His nod of approval makes me stand taller. "Cross teach you that?"

"She taught herself," Asher says before I can answer. His hand still rests on my shoulder, warm and possessive.

Kade's eyebrow lifts. "Good. Remy needs you both. Something about medical personnel."

The conference room door slides open silently. A wall of digital displays shows medical certifications, hospital records, and—my breath catches—security footage of Kuya Migs treating me after the neurotoxin.

Remy stands by the main screen, green eyes assessing me as we enter. "You look better. Miguel's protocols worked well."

"He's good at fixing things." Pride and anxiety twist in my chest. I slide into a chair, fingers automatically finding the table edge, tapping out rhythms that match my racing thoughts.

"Your brother saved your life." Remy pulls up Miguel's credentials and background check. "We need someone we can trust when I'm in the field."

My fingers tap faster. Kuya Migs as part of CPG? Of Nightfall? My mind spirals through dozens of scenarios—his hospital job, our parents' questions, security clearances, whether he'd even want this mess...

Asher's hand covers my fidgeting fingers. The touch grounds me instantly, silencing the static in my brain.

"Miguel already knows too much to go back to normal life," I admit, the reality settling heavy in my stomach.

"The question isn't if he's qualified." Kade's intense blue eyes fix on me. "It's if we can trust him with everything."

I straighten, defensive fire sparking in my chest. "He's kept my secrets since I was twelve. Even from our parents."

Memories flash: Miguel finding my first hacking setup under my bed, covering for me during all-night coding sessions, bringing me food during three-day programming binges. Never once betraying me, even under Mom's interrogations.

"His medical skills are exceptional." Remy swipes through hospital reviews. "And he's familiar with our... situations."

Kade studies me. "You're certain about his discretion?"

"Absolutely." The word comes out stronger than anything else I've said. "Family loyalty means everything to him."

Asher's thumb traces small circles on my hand. The silent support makes my heart skip.

"Bring him in." Kade looks at me. "But you make the offer. He needs to hear it from you."

Twenty minutes later, I pace circles around the B3 medical facility while Kuya Migs examines equipment with professional interest

He runs fingers over surgical tools, peeks into cabinets stocked with drugs, stops at the diagnostic unit that looks like sci-fi medical equipment.

"So this explains the mysterious 'consulting work'." I watch him recheck settings on the cardiac monitor he'd used to save my life. My hands won't stay still, so I fidget with my hoodie zipper.

"Only partially." He picks up the specialized injector, examining it more carefully this time. "I needed to keep you alive before. Didn't have time to appreciate the setup."

That's typical Miguel, understated even when impressed. He walks through the room step by step, medical training taking over as he notes every detail.

"The cardiac equipment is modified military-grade." I bounce on my toes. "And the neuro-monitoring system has custom modifications I helped design after..."

I trail off. Don't want to revisit those foggy days when my brain felt shredded from inside.

Miguel's eyes soften as he sets down the equipment. "After you nearly died."

Remy clears his throat, stepping forward. "Which is why we need someone we trust. Field operations require immediate medical response. You proved yourself under extreme pressure."

My brother's expression grows serious. "What happens when you're on mission? Who covers trauma care then?"

Warmth floods through me. Of course, Kuya Migs cuts straight to the logistics, even while getting recruited by people who could probably end him in seventeen different ways.

"That's why we need you." Remy's tone stays neutral but respectful. "Triple your hospital salary. Better hours than the ER. Most importantly, cutting-edge medical technology to make real difference."

Miguel raises an eyebrow, looking around once more. Numbers flicker behind his stare as he weighs the danger against the advantages, the moral complications.

Then his serious expression cracks into a smile. "So you're saying this job won't be 'terminal' like the ER?"

I groan dramatically, covering my face. "This is what you're getting yourself into, Saint."

Remy's lips twitch with unexpected amusement. He recovers quickly, but I catch it.

Miguel continues examining the facility, pausing at the trauma bay where I was treated. His fingers trace the bed edge where he'd fought to save my life.

"After everything you saw, the attack on Vanessa, how we operate, you kept your mouth shut." Remy examines my brother with fresh respect.

Miguel straightens his shoulders, expression turning professional. "Confidentiality is something I take seriously." He extends his hand toward Remy. "I accept."

My heart does a little flip of relief. Having Kuya Migs here feels like anchoring my old life to this new reality.

An hour later, the mission planning zone on B4 feels different today. More complete.

Maybe because I've rearranged the data feeds to match my brain patterns. Or maybe because my brother stands among Asher's team, studying the holographic display with the same intensity he brings to complicated medical cases.

I tap fingers against the digital table edge, bringing up a 3D image of the Velocity Racing Circuit.

"Your primary target is the communications hub under the pit area." I explain to Jax, who leans against the wall in his signature relaxed pose. "Your connection with Kane should get you close enough during driver briefings—about eight minutes of access."

Jax nods, easy confidence masking the danger. "Eight minutes is plenty. I once rewired an entire Lamborghini electrical system in less."

"This isn't just about speed."

I pull up the network architecture I've mapped. "Their security protocols change every forty-three minutes. I've programmed these wireless packets to adapt."

I slide three tiny devices across the table—each barely bigger than a thumbnail. "You need to place them within twenty meters of any terminal to bridge their secure network."

Jax pockets the devices with a wink. "So I just charm my way into the right places."

I roll my eyes at his easy flirtation. Not attraction—Jax is like a fun older brother. But Asher stiffens behind me, his presence turning sharp and cold.

My brother steps forward, pulling up biometric readings on a side screen.

"You need to maintain normal vitals during placement."

Miguel slips into his medical authority voice. "These adhesive monitors transmit through encrypted channels—place them here and here."

He points to spots on Jax's neck and wrist.

"They'll look like simple bandages from minor work."

"We'll know immediately if you're compromised," Cole adds, linking the biometric feed to our monitoring system.

Kade reviews extraction protocols with focused intensity. Asher remains behind me, his presence solid but tense.

"So if someone flirts with me, will my heart rate spike enough to trigger extraction?" Jax asks with a grin, eyes deliberately flickering to me. "Because if Nessa's on comms, I might need medical intervention."

I open my mouth with a smart comeback when Asher's palm lands on my lower back. Heat spreads through my shirt where he touches, claiming and marking territory. My heart hammers against his barely leashed control.

"Stay on task, Nitro," Kade interrupts without missing a beat.

I shift backward into Asher's touch, his rigid muscles relaxing slightly. His thumbnail draws a tiny circle against my back, sparks shooting through my nervous system.

As the briefing ends and the team disperses, Miguel pulls me aside, expression caught between professional pride and big-brother concern.

"Mom would have a heart attack if she knew what you're really doing with your computer skills." He squeezes my shoulder gently. "And how proud I am of you for it."