The silence between Eric and Lena was no longer neutral—it was charged, like the heavy air before a thunderstorm.
She was pacing his apartment now, arms crossed, eyes flicking to every shadow like she half-expected a camera to pop out. Eric leaned against the table, watching her, not for the first time noticing how her every movement was too precise, too guarded.
"You need to tell me everything you know," she said sharply, halting in front of him. "No more cryptic half-truths."
Eric exhaled slowly. "I wasn't keeping things from you. I was… buying time."
"Buying time for what?"
"For figuring out whether I could trust you."
She glared at him, jaw clenched. But she didn't walk away.
That was new.
Eric continued. "The department you head—it's not just inefficient. There are layers to it. People being moved like pieces. And you… you're either in the game or being played."
Lena's eyes narrowed. "Are you accusing me of being a pawn?"
"I'm saying they want you to be. And maybe you've started to sense that too."
The moment hung between them like a razor-thin wire. Then, unexpectedly, Lena stepped closer—close enough that Eric could smell her faint perfume, something cool and sharp, like pine and steel.
"I don't like being used," she said, voice low. "By anyone."
Eric didn't step back. "Neither do I."
Later that evening, they combed through Eric's physical files—printouts, data dumps, reports he'd intercepted.
One file in particular made Lena stop cold.
"Project Atlas?" she read aloud. "This… this isn't in any of our public roadmaps."
Eric nodded. "Because it's not meant to be."
Lena scanned the contents—offshore entities, restructuring plans, asset transfers masked as departmental 'streamlining.'
"What the hell is this?"
"A shell game," Eric said. "I think someone is prepping the company for a hostile restructuring. They'll gut departments, shift blame… and walk away richer."
Lena's face was pale, but her voice didn't shake. "This could take down careers."
Eric met her gaze. "Starting with yours."
They stared at each other, understanding passing between them in the silence. For the first time, they weren't just co-workers or temporary allies. They were two people standing at the edge of the same abyss.
From across the street, Sasha watched the two silhouettes moving in Eric's apartment through her compact binoculars.
She'd followed her instinct, and it paid off again.
"I was right," she whispered to herself, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "There's something between them."
Something more than corporate survival. More than a casual after-hours meeting.
She zoomed in slightly. Lena had stepped closer to Eric, her posture taut—but not with anger. It was tension, yes, but of a very different flavor.
Sasha smirked. "And people call me the drama queen."
Her phone buzzed—an anonymous message: Keep your eyes on the queen. The knight moves next.
She didn't reply. But her expression hardened.
Things were getting interesting.
Back in the apartment, Lena sat down for the first time that night, rubbing her temples.
"This is bigger than I thought."
Eric nodded. "And we're already on the board."
A beat passed. Then she looked at him—really looked at him.
"You could've blackmailed me. Used this against me. Why didn't you?"
He hesitated.
"Because despite everything… I don't think you're the enemy."
Lena scoffed, but her voice was softer. "You're an idiot."
"Maybe."
And then she did something unexpected—she laughed. Just once, short and bitter, but real.
Eric smiled faintly. "That's the first time I've heard you do that."
"I'm full of surprises."
There was a pause. A long one.
And then Lena leaned in—not quite a kiss, not quite not.
Eric's breath hitched, but he didn't move away.
The air between them cracked—like ice breaking underfoot, just enough to glimpse what lay beneath.
Trust.
Or something close enough to pretend.
Eric stood quietly as Lena paced. The air between them was heavy—not just with tension, but with something that pulsed just beneath the surface. Trust? Distrust? Desire? It was a mixture of all three, and none.
"You should go home tonight," Lena said suddenly, her voice unusually soft, yet firm. "If someone's watching, we shouldn't give them more."
"You're saying that like this was something to give," Eric replied.
She turned to him, eyes narrowing. "Don't twist my words."
He stepped forward. "Then don't pretend this isn't real."
There it was—the line again. The line they always danced on. She stared at him, jaw set, but her body remained still. That stillness told him more than any words could.
Before she could respond, her phone buzzed this time. She looked down. Another message. No name.
"Nice speech. Shame it's wasted on a woman who'll never trust you."
Eric took a step closer and read it over her shoulder.
"Who the hell is this?" Lena muttered, her voice trembling ever so slightly.
He was already thinking. Fast. "Someone with access. Someone inside the company, or close to it. They're not just watching. They know us."
"And they're trying to destabilize us," she said bitterly.
"No," Eric corrected gently. "They're trying to push you away from me."
Lena looked at him, a sharp glint in her eye. "Why?"
"Because you're starting to trust me."
She turned away, but didn't deny it.
He didn't push further. Instead, he walked to the window, pulling the curtain just enough to peer through a narrow slit. The street below looked normal. But paranoia had a taste—metallic, dry, persistent. And tonight, it coated everything.
"We need a plan," Eric said quietly. "If they're watching us, we need to let them."
She turned, brow furrowed. "Excuse me?"
"Let them think they've won," he continued. "Let them believe they're pulling the strings. We'll give them a performance."
"And then?"
"Then we pull the rug out from under their feet."
Lena's gaze lingered on him. There was something almost reverent in it—an acknowledgment, perhaps, that the man before her wasn't the harmless subordinate she once thought.
She reached for her coat. "Then let's start scripting."
Two hours later, they were back in the company building. Not in Lena's office, nor Eric's usual floors. Deep in the basement, where old tech and unused filing rooms were left to rot.
Eric had broken into this level more than once during his self-training days. He knew where the cameras were—and more importantly, where they weren't.
"This place is a graveyard," Lena said, stepping over a collapsed server rack.
"Which is why it's perfect."
He led her to a metal cabinet shoved behind old crates. Inside were Ethernet wires, cassette archives, and—exactly what he was hoping for—an old but functional hard drive reader.
"Here." He pointed. "This is the model they used before the cloud migration. If someone was trying to hide something, this is where they'd put it."
She helped him plug it in. The screen flickered.
Password protected.
"Think you can crack it?" she asked.
He gave her a look. "I've cracked worse."
Ten minutes. That's all it took. Not because it was easy—but because Eric had seen this exact encryption style before.
When the folders opened, Lena leaned in close. Their shoulders touched. Neither moved away.
Most of the folders were routine archives. Employee records. Vendor contracts.
Then Lena froze. "Wait… open that one."
A file named simply: "Orchid."
Eric clicked.
What spilled out wasn't financial data—but surveillance logs. Dozens of them. Audio files, transcripts, GPS pings. Most were redacted. Some weren't.
Eric's name showed up repeatedly.
So did Lena's.
And then, Sasha's.
Eric and Lena exchanged a look.
"This goes deeper than I thought," she whispered.
"They're building profiles. Not just on us. On potential threats."
Lena swallowed hard. "This isn't just corporate espionage. This is intelligence-level surveillance."
Eric nodded slowly. "And someone is playing puppet master."
Lena leaned in again, her voice low. "Whoever they are… they want us isolated. Divided."
"Which means we stay together," he replied.
She didn't flinch this time.
Instead, she placed a hand on his wrist. Not just for emphasis—but something more. Her fingers lingered, then withdrew just as quickly. But it was enough.
"Let's bring them down," she said.
He smiled faintly. "Now you're speaking my language."
Eric leaned back slightly, his hand brushing against Lena's. Neither of them moved. The air between them felt charged, thick with things left unsaid. Outside the window, the city continued to hum its usual song—cars, people, life marching forward—but here in the quiet of their hideout, time seemed to slow.
"I need to know something," Lena said after a long pause. Her voice was soft, but it carried weight.
Eric turned to her, eyebrow raised.
"Why are you doing all this? You could've walked away. No one would've blamed you."
A beat passed before Eric replied. "Because I've seen too much. And because I can't unsee it now."
He didn't tell her everything. Not yet. That he'd been preparing for this for far longer than she thought. That the system she served had already chewed up too many people like him—and he wasn't going to be next.
Lena studied him. Her usual armor was still there, but it was cracked—just enough for something human to slip through.
"I'm not used to trusting people," she murmured.
"Neither am I," he admitted.
A silence settled between them again, but this time, it was not tense. It was contemplative.
Then, Eric stood.
"I need to show you something."
He walked over to his desk drawer and pulled out a small, encrypted USB drive. He held it up.
"This… this is what started everything."
Lena's eyes sharpened. "What's on it?"
"Financial records. Backdated HR documents. Ghost employees. Shell companies registered under false names. And a very specific trail leading back to Director Zhao."
Her expression didn't change, but her fingers tightened around the edge of the couch.
"That's… impossible."
"No. It's buried. Obscured. Hidden under five layers of bullshit, but it's real."
Eric plugged the drive into his laptop and brought up the first folder.
Lena leaned in.
They scrolled through file after file—dummy accounts, altered payroll logs, falsified vendor contracts. It was all there. The evidence they needed to expose not just Zhao, but potentially several others above him.
A deep breath escaped her lips.
"Do you realize what happens if this gets out?"
"I do."
"They'll kill it. Bury it again. Maybe bury us with it."
Eric nodded. "Which is why we don't just expose it. We use it."
She looked at him, puzzled.
"We create leverage. If Zhao and the others know we can ruin them at any moment, they'll tread carefully. That buys us time. Control."
For a moment, Lena said nothing. Then, slowly, she nodded.
"You've thought this through."
"I've had time," Eric replied with a faint smile. "And I knew I'd need someone on the inside. Someone who understands how they think. That's you."
Lena narrowed her eyes. "You think you can manipulate me into this?"
"No," he said, locking eyes with her. "I'm asking you to choose."
The silence between them now was heavier, laden with consequence. Finally, Lena exhaled, a sharp breath.
"If I do this with you… there's no turning back."
Eric held her gaze. "I never planned to."
She stood abruptly and paced the room, processing everything. When she turned back to him, her expression had changed—less suspicion, more determination.
"Then we do this smart. Controlled. One move at a time."
Eric nodded. "Exactly."
At that moment, his phone buzzed again. Another anonymous message.
"Cute. But you're not the only ones who know. ;)"
Eric cursed under his breath. He showed it to Lena. Her jaw clenched.
"Someone's watching us," she said again.
"No… someone wants us to know they are."
Lena walked over to the window and pulled the curtain slightly open. Across the street, nothing seemed out of place. But both of them knew better.
Then came a knock on the door.
They froze.
Eric moved quietly toward the door, signaling Lena to stay behind. He glanced through the peephole.
It was Sasha.
Holding a bag of takeout, flashing a too-innocent smile.
"What the hell…" Eric muttered before opening the door.
"Evening, boss!" she chirped. "I brought food. Don't worry, I didn't spike it."
He raised an eyebrow. "How did you know I was here?"
She tilted her head. "You think I wouldn't figure out your 'secret' apartment? Please. Your browsing history's lazier than a college intern."
Eric groaned. "You hacked me."
"I prefer the term 'digitally observed'. Also, you forgot to close your office tabs. Rookie move."
Lena stepped forward, arms crossed. "Why are you really here?"
Sasha didn't flinch. She looked at both of them, her eyes sharper than usual.
"Because I think we're all playing the same game," she said. "And maybe, just maybe, I want in."
Eric and Lena exchanged a glance.
"This isn't a game," Lena said flatly.
Sasha grinned. "Then it must be war. And I'm great at war."
She tossed the bag on the counter, peeled off her coat, and sat down like she owned the place.
"I have something you want," she said, pulling out a small recording device from her purse.
"What is it?" Eric asked warily.
"An audio snippet. From Director Zhao's private call. I tapped it yesterday while 'helping' IT debug the VoIP servers."
She played the clip. A muffled voice—Zhao's unmistakable tone—speaking:
"…keep tabs on Eric. If he gets too close, we burn him. Same for Lena. She's already cracking."
The silence afterward was deafening.
Sasha turned the volume down. "So… am I in or what?"
Eric stared at her, then slowly nodded.
Lena, however, looked less convinced.
"Why help us?"
Sasha's smile faded a little. For once, her voice softened.
"Because the people who think they're untouchable need to be touched. Hard."
The room held its breath.
Eric sat down slowly.
"Then welcome to the team."