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Freya jolted awake, her pulse racing.

Disorientation clouded her mind briefly before reality came crashing back. She was on her couch, fully dressed, the rough fabric of her borrowed clothes uncomfortable against her skin. Her watch face swam into focus. It was after nine. Despite her certainty that sleep would elude her forever, exhaustion had claimed her for a few precious hours after she’d collapsed at three in the morning.

She sat up, wincing as her muscles protested the movement. The blanket slid from her body. Morning light filtering through the blinds needled her retinas. Her eyelids scraped like sandpaper with each blink but at least she could breathe without difficulty now, even if the acrid taste of tear gas still coated the back of her throat, a phantom burning that made her want to gag.

Last night.

Memories hit her with the force of a freight train. The attack. The struggle. The choking, blinding gas.

She half-expected to see masked assailants lurking in the shadows of her small living room.

Her lab. God, the lab. She pressed her fingertips against her eyelids, seeing in her mind’s eye the overturned boxes, shattered glassware, and the lingering haze of tear gas. Her sanctuary reduced to a battleground. Even her clothes had been casualties, bagged up for disposal by Roger.

She reached out and skimmed her fingers along the laptop case resting on her coffee table. The data was secure. She hadn’t let it out of her sight, not even for a moment.

She swung her legs out from under the blanket, bare feet connecting with the chilly hardwood floor. The shock of cold helped to wake her. She dragged her fingers through her tangled hair, catching on knots that had formed during restless sleep.

Emotion threatened to swamp her, but she swallowed it down, allowing only anger to rise. Anger at the attackers who had violated her sanctuary. Anger at the security measures that had failed so spectacularly. And most of all, anger at herself for not expecting this—she was always prepared.

Right now, she needed clarity and answers and coffee, preferably by IV. She padded through to her bathroom, where she splashed cold water on her face before dragging a hairbrush through her hair. She tied it back with an elastic, ignoring the dark smudges under her eyes. Far from her best, but she was presentable. She would pick up coffee on the way back to the lab.

Showered and changed back into her own clothes, she drove back to Hellisheidi from her rental house, picking up coffee on the way. The drive felt surreal, and she held the steering wheel in an iron grip, her eyes constantly darting to the rear-view mirror, half-expecting to see masked pursuers.

She hurried through security and headed for her lab.

It was a war zone.

Papers lay strewn haphazardly across every surface, and broken glass glittered in lethal shards on the floor. The storage boxes she had so painstakingly catalogued were strewn on the floor and several were burst open.

She huffed out a long breath as she placed her coffee on the counter.

It was Saturday and the cleaners wouldn’t arrive till Monday morning. She should be at home resting, but being there just meant tidying an already immaculate house and eating by herself. At least here, amid this destruction, she felt a sense of purpose. Maybe she should make a list?—

The lab door beeped.

Freya tensed as the door lock released with a clunk.

“Freya?” The voice was familiar. Tinna. “Are you okay?”

Tinna’s hair was disheveled and her cheeks were pink from the bitter day outside.

“Oh, my God.” Tinna hurried across the room. She came to an abrupt stop in front of Freya. “Your poor face. You look like you’ve done ten rounds in a boxing ring.”

Freya prodded the skin around her eyes with tentative fingertips. The skin was taut and swollen, radiating heat like a small sun. If her appearance matched how she felt, Tinna was being remarkably tactful. “Yeah. I think it looks worse than it is. I can see now and breathe. Win-win.” She blew her nose.

Tinna’s brow furrowed. “What are you even doing here? You should be at home, resting.” She dumped her bag unceremoniously on the nearest chair. “Einar called me and filled me in. It must have been terrifying. I went past your house but?—”

“I couldn’t stay at home. I had to come in, try to find some sense of order, in my head as much as the lab.”

“I understand.” Tina gave her hand a sympathetic squeeze.

“Thank you.” Freya managed a weak smile. “Besides, I couldn’t wait for the cleaners. Everything has to be in order for the data transport on Monday.”

Tinna’s fingers tightened almost imperceptibly around Freya’s. “It’s all going to be fine now. Once the changes are confirmed.”

Freya gripped Tinna’s hand. “Changes? What changes?”

Panic flashed across Tinna’s eyes. “Oh,” she breathed, her voice small. “I think I just put my foot in it.”

“What changes, Tinna ?”

“Um.” Tinna worried her bottom lip between her teeth. “The break-in has everyone freaked. Einar is reviewing all security measures. Including the team you chose.” She paused, swallowing hard.

“What?” Freya released Tinna’s hand. “Security intervened. They saved the research.”

Tinna’s gaze skittered away, landing somewhere over Freya’s shoulder. “I know. But Einar feels it’s a necessary precaution. He said if they let the intruders get that far, they weren’t doing their job properly.” She drew in a shaky breath. “He’s bringing in a new team.”

He was getting rid of the security team she’d carefully vetted, the ones she’d briefed so carefully on the transportation plans? It had taken her weeks to choose the right team, one she felt comfortable with. A muscle in her jaw popped as she clenched her teeth.

“How, Tinna? How is this happening?” Her words came out in a low, dangerous tone she did not recognize. “Security for transporting the archive is my responsibility. Why have I not been consulted on this?”

She fumbled in her hip pocket for her phone. She flicked through her contacts and hit Einar’s number. The phone rang out and after what felt like an eternity, her call going to voicemail. Freya thumbed the phone off with a frustrated noise. “He’s not answering.”

Tinna nodded. “He’s in some big meeting?—”

“He’s here? On a Saturday?”

“Everyone’s upset by what happened.” Tinna fidgeted with the cuff of her shirt.

“Why didn’t you say sooner?” Freya was already moving, nervous energy pumping through her. “I have to go speak to him.”

“Freya. I don’t think now is a good time.”

Freya headed out the lab door. “There’s never a good time.”