Page 63 of Shadowed Hearts: Frost (Nightfall Syndicate #2)

I follow Remy and Kuya Migs toward the elevator, relief flooding through me. My brother is officially part of this world now.

When we reach the elevator, Remy turns to us, "I need to check in with HR. Cole requested Vanessa in tech division. Asher will meet you there later."

Kuya Migs gives me a quick side-hug. "I'll get started on orientation. Try not to hack anything important while I'm gone."

"No promises," I shoot back with a grin.

When the elevator doors open at Level B4, I step into a wide corridor. This isn't tech division directly. Level B4 houses several departments. I follow signage past conference rooms and storage areas, eventually reaching a security checkpoint with reinforced glass doors.

After scanning my badge, I enter the tech division and pause in amazement.

The central operations area stretches before me in a perfect circle, workstations arranged to face an impressive wall of high-definition monitors.

The lighting gives off a gentle blue-white glow that doesn't reflect on screens and specialized flooring that muffles my footsteps almost completely.

"Holy shit," I whisper, fingers tingling with the urge to touch everything. "This is..."

My brain short-circuits, unable to find words. The server infrastructure visible through glass walls is military-grade—no, beyond military. This is the kind of setup I've only dreamed about.

Cole appears from behind a curved workstation. "Thought you might appreciate the tour."

"Appreciate doesn't even—" I spin slowly, taking in quantum encryption modules and custom AI interfaces. My chest tightens with a physical ache of pure technological desire. "I think I'm having a religious experience."

Cole's normally serious face cracks into a small smile. "Your workspace is here." He leads me to a station with three large monitors. "Feel free to customize—"

Before he finishes, I'm already rearranging everything.

My fingers move fast, shifting monitors into positions that make sense to my brain.

Center screen tilted thirty degrees to match my natural head position, left monitor vertical for code review, right monitor at eye level for reference materials.

Cole watches as I unpack personal equipment from my backpack: specialized keyboard with textured keys, unusual-shaped mouse that fits my specific grip, several USB drives color-coded with markers and stickers.

"You categorize by concept rather than alphabet or function," he observes as I arrange my drives in a pattern that probably looks random to him.

I nod, already deep in setup mode.

"Purple means encryption software linked to pattern detection. Yellow is a visualization tool linked to financial tracking. Green is backdoor access points organized by geographical server location." Words tumble out as my fingers fly across keyboards.

"That's... unconventional." Cole watches me customize security protocols with head-spinning speed.

"Conventional is slow." I barely look up as I integrate my personal authentication methods into CPG's system. "Standard organization wastes processing time when your brain naturally connects concepts across categories."

Cole's forehead wrinkles as he tries to follow my explanation while I reconfigure multiple systems at once.

"Traditional system architecture assumes linear thinking." I continue, words coming faster as my fingers dance across three keyboards. "But if you structure access based on concept proximity rather than arbitrary categories—"

"—you reduce cognitive load and access time for non-linear thinkers," Asher finishes, appearing behind me.

My heart does a little flip at his voice. I don't turn around, but I feel him there, understanding exactly what my fingers are doing across keyboards.

"She's creating a personalized interface that maps to her neural pathways," Asher explains to Cole. "Looks chaotic but maximizes her processing efficiency."

"Exactly!" I beam, still typing. The fact that he gets it, really gets it, makes my chest feel warm and tight.

"I've never seen someone integrate systems this quickly," Cole admits, watching my screens fill with layered protocols and customized access points.

"The servers are ready for the racing circuit intelligence gathering," I announce, giving my chair a satisfied spin.

I step out of the elevator into the basement parking level, exhausted but buzzing with strange new energy. The concrete walls feel cool and quiet after the busy tech division below.

"First official day complete." I stretch my arms overhead. My fingers still tingle from hours of typing, brain humming pleasantly with the memory of all that computing power.

"From barista with a side hustle to... whatever this is." I wave toward the building behind us, feeling a small laugh bubble up from my chest.

Asher walks beside me, posture perfect as always, but something's different now. Less rigid. He watches me with that intense stare that used to unnerve me, but now feels like being wrapped in safety.

"You were never just a barista, little bunny." His voice carries absolute certainty. His hand slides to my lower back, firm and warm, sending heat spiraling through me.

A month ago, I might have bristled at the gesture, seen it as another cage. But now it feels like shelter, being anchored when my thoughts want to spin in several different directions.

"Your sister was right about one thing." He continues as we walk toward his car. "I was either real or an excellent actor. Lucky for both of us, it was the first."

I smile, remembering Kaela's warnings. "She'll absolutely demand to know if you brainwashed me when she finds out I have an actual job with benefits."

The parking space feels different too—not just empty concrete, but entrance to a world where my chaos has purpose. Where my constantly moving mind is useful. Where my brother works two floors below me, our family secrets finally aligned.

"Think they'll let me redesign the encryption protocols?" My mind races ahead to tomorrow already. "The current system routes through too many redundant—"

My phone buzzes. A message from Kuya Migs lights up my screen.

First day on new job complete. Diagnosis: This family just got a lot more complicated.

I laugh and show the message to Asher.

"Your brother adapts quickly."

"Reyes family trait." I settle into the passenger seat, skin still humming from his earlier touches. "We bend so we don't break."

Asher starts the engine, and I catch him glancing at me with that look—the one that says he's thinking about more than just driving home. Heat pools low in my stomach as his hand finds my thigh, thumb tracing small circles that make my breath catch.

The drive home suddenly feels very long and not nearly long enough.

Thanks for reading Shadowed Hearts. Hope you enjoyed Asher and Vanessa's story! Asher never has anyone over to his house, but I have a special bonus chapter for you!

Shadowed Hearts Bonus Scene Some missions require specialized equipment. Others require surviving Vanessa's last-minute cooking lessons and learning Tagalog phrases. When tactical precision meets Filipino family chaos, even snipers need backup.

Be sure to grab it here! https://author.emeryrowan.com/shadowed_hearts_bonus

Want to read "Nitro" Jax's story? Be sure to check it out in Shadowed Sins: Nitro – it will be available September 2025!

Like to hang out with like-minded readers? Join us on Facebook in Emery Rowan's Syn Squad

xo Emery Rowan

Keep reading for a sneak peek!

Jax

The tactical SUV's engine starts making a sound like someone's strangling a mechanical cat, and I know exactly whose fault this is.

"Son of a bitch," I mutter, downshifting and pulling toward the shoulder. "I specifically told Damian to check the transmission fluid before we left. Did he listen? Hell no."

Asher's eyebrow arches as we coast to a stop on the empty stretch of Highway 101. "You diagnosed that from an engine noise?"

"Wasn't hard." I kill the ignition and pop the hood release with more force than necessary. "Sounds like a transmission that's been running dry for the last fifty miles."

Cole leans forward from the back seat, checking his watch with that calculating expression. "Timeline impact?"

"Depends on how badly Damian fucked up my engine." I'm already out of the driver's seat, grabbing tools from the tactical kit. "Could be fifteen minutes, could be an hour."

The hood release fights me—another sign someone's been messing with my vehicle without permission. Everything has a specific way it should be maintained, and clearly nobody else understands that.

"Your engine?" Asher follows me around to the front, phone already out to update Kade about our delay.

"Every vehicle becomes mine the second I start driving it." I lift the hood and immediately spot the problem. "Look at this shit."

Steam rises from the transmission housing, and the fluid reservoir sits bone dry. Exactly what I predicted would happen if someone ignored basic maintenance protocols.

"Transmission fluid," Cole observes, joining us in front of the smoking engine.

"Correct. Gold star for the strategist." I wave my hand at the evidence. "See that brown residue? That's what happens when you run a transmission dry. Metal grinding against metal, heat building up, components destroying themselves."

Asher studies the engine components with professional interest. "How do you fix it?"

"First, we let it cool down before I add fluid, or we'll crack the housing from thermal shock.

" I grab a bottle of transmission fluid from the tactical kit—because unlike some people, I actually prepare for mechanical failures.

"Second, I get to say 'I told you so' to Damian for the next six months. "

"You're enjoying this," Cole accuses, but there's amusement in his voice.

"Damn right I'm enjoying it. You know how many times I've watched people ignore basic vehicle maintenance? It's like they think cars run on hope and good intentions."

I check the transmission temperature with my hand, hovering over the housing. Still too hot, but cooling. While we wait, I start explaining exactly how Damian's incompetence led to our current situation.

"See, transmissions are basically controlled explosions managing gear ratios through hydraulic pressure," I continue, because Asher and Cole are actually listening instead of just nodding politely.

"When you don't maintain proper fluid levels, you lose that hydraulic pressure.

Then the gears start grinding, heat builds up, and eventually—"

My personal phone buzzes in my pocket. Unknown number, but the area code makes my stomach drop into my boots.

213 area code. Los Angeles.

"You going to get that?" Asher notices my hesitation.

"Probably spam." But my hands are already moving to answer, because I know it's not spam. Nobody from the racing circuit has called me in years.

"Jax Ryder," I answer, stepping away from the engine.

"Well, well. The prodigal driver returns." The voice is exactly what I was afraid of hearing. Professional, smooth, with an edge that always gets my hackles up. "Heard through the grapevine you might be heading back to LA."

My blood turns to ice water. "Who is this?"

"Don't play coy. Someone who's been keeping tabs on you. Word is you're coming to visit Velocity's new racing circuit. Thought we should catch up."

The energy drains out of me completely. I glance back at Asher and Cole, who are pretending to examine the engine while obviously listening to every word.

"I think you've got the wrong number."

"Do I? Because someone mentioned you might be stopping by. Said you had some unfinished business with the racing community."

Fuck. I turn away from my teammates so they can't see my face.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Sure you don't. See you soon, Jax. LA's got a long memory."

The line goes dead.

I stand there for ten seconds, phone still pressed to my ear, trying to get my breathing under control.

If the caller is referring to who I think he is, he's is supposed to be in Europe somewhere, racing circuits I'll never touch again.

He's not supposed to be in LA. He's definitely not supposed to be asking about me.

"Everything okay?" Cole's voice cuts through my panic spiral.

I turn back around, forcing the usual grin. "Spam call. Some jackass trying to sell me extended vehicle warranties."

Asher's dark eyes study my face with sniper precision. "Transmission should be cool enough now."

Right. Fix the engine. Get back on the road. Pretend that call didn't just turn my blood into liquid nitrogen.

I pour transmission fluid into the reservoir with hands that aren't quite steady. The familiar mechanical routine usually centers me, but right now, all I can think about is someone from my past asking questions about my whereabouts.

"You sure you're good?" Cole asks, because apparently my poker face needs work.

"Perfect." I check the fluid level, then close the hood with deliberate calm. "Fifteen minutes like I promised. Damian owes me dinner for this clusterfuck."

But as we get back in the SUV and I start the engine—purring perfectly now, naturally—my mind is racing faster than any vehicle I've ever driven.

Someone with a long memory is expecting me. And I just realized that whatever we're walking into with this racing circuit operation, it's about to become very personal.

The engine runs smooth as silk now. Too bad I can't say the same about my life.

Keep reading "Nitro" Jax's story in Shadowed Sins: Nitro – available September 2025!