We decide how long he breathes.
Mei didn't flinch. She'd learned to lock her fear behind a wall deep enough that even her own pulse couldn't reach it. But it was there, heavy in her chest.
Aiden's life depended on Lucent. And Lucent was locked behind the man who barely looked at her.
She needed Kieran Wolfe to open the door. But not because she asked. Because he wanted to.
That morning, she kept her look clean, precise white silk blouse, hair pinned up, a line of pearl at her ears. Not too much. Not too little.
The first time she saw him that day, he was at his desk, head bent over a glowing interface. He didn't glance up until she set a file down in front of him.
"You'll need this for the audit," she said simply.
A quick flick of his eyes. "Leave it."
For hours, the day was ordinary. Almost painfully so. Emails, reports, coffee breaks. If there was any tension between them after Lucent, he didn't show it.
She was in the break room making tea when the alarms began.
A sharp, piercing chime. Then a voice, flat and unshaken: "External breach detected."
By the time she reached Kieran's office, the walls were alive with scrolling data firewalls under strain, alerts spiking in red.
He didn't look away from the main console. "It's not random. They know what they're looking for."
Her stomach tightened. If another group got to Lucent first, Black Swan's leverage would vanish. And so would Aiden's chance to live.
"What do you need?" she asked, stepping closer to the desk.
He was already on his feet. "A manual patch. Come with me."
The Lucent chamber glowed brighter than she'd seen before. The cube pulsed like a heartbeat under pressure.
"Lucent's tracking the breach, but it needs human input to stabilize," Kieran said, pulling up the manual interface. "It learns faster when it reads real-time human response."
Mei moved to stand beside him, close enough that their shoulders almost touched. Not close enough to be obvious.
"Show me," she said.
They worked in unison his voice low, steady, giving instructions; her fingers matching his commands exactly.
The space between them felt smaller with each movement. She could feel the heat radiating from his arm, smell the faint trace of his cologne clean, sharp, controlled.
When she leaned toward the screen, her hand brushed his, just enough for both of them to notice.
His focus didn't break, but his jaw shifted slightly.
The breach fought back hard. Lines of hostile code curled across the screen like snakes.
"Stay with me," he said without looking at her.
She let her voice drop just enough. "I'm right here."
It wasn't a promise. Not to him, anyway.
The commands grew more complex. He leaned over the panel, and she mirrored him, their shoulders aligning. The air between them thickened, slow and quiet.
She didn't plan the next touch. Her hand simply moved over the console, fingers sliding against his as they keyed the same command.
He looked at her then quick, sharp and for the first time that day, the control in his eyes cracked.
It happened naturally. One second they were inputting commands; the next, his mouth was on hers.
The kiss wasn't careful. It was pressure and heat, his hand catching her waist like he'd been holding back too long.
She let it happen no sudden moves, no gasp just a slow yielding that drew him in deeper.
Her fingers grazed the back of his neck, feeling the tension there, then slid upward into his hair.
Lucent's glow reflected in his eyes when they broke apart just enough to breathe.
She could have deepened it again. She almost did. But the system pinged: Breach contained.
Kieran stepped back first, his breathing controlled again, though a faint pulse still beat in his temple.
"Good work," he said flatly, as if they'd only finished a meeting.
Kieran stayed at the console after the system sealed itself, fingers moving over a secondary interface.
"What are you doing?" Mei asked.
"Tracing the breach." His voice was clipped now, all business.
She stepped closer, careful to sound curious but not too invested. "Any luck?"
"More than I expected," he said, eyes narrowing at the data. "They covered their tracks, but not perfectly. There's a… signature in the code. Not many people in the world could have left it."
A slow dread coiled in her stomach, though she had no reason to place it yet. "Signature?"
"Patterns. Habits. Things a coder doesn't even realize they leave behind."
He zoomed in on a section of code. To her, it was just a swirl of numbers and characters. But somewhere deep in her memory, the rhythm of it tugged at her.
"Whoever they are," Kieran continued, "they're skilled enough to almost get Lucent. That's a problem."
He straightened, shutting down the trace for now. "This isn't over."
Back at her desk, Mei's phone buzzed.
BLACK SWAN:
While you were busy, we sent a reminder.
A video followed Aiden, awake, fear in his eyes, his oxygen levels dipping dangerously low before the screen went black.
BLACK SWAN:
Next time you lose focus, we won't stop.
Her throat tightened, but she kept her face still.
Then, from Kieran's office, she heard his voice low, almost to himself: "I know this style. I've seen it before."
The words stuck in her head as she shut down her computer for the night. She told herself it was nothing. But that tug in her memory wouldn't leave.
Because the last time she'd seen code like that…
…she'd been leaning over her ex-boyfriend's shoulder, watching him write it.
Back at her desk, the high of the moment still hummed faintly under her skin. She was closer now. He'd given her more without realizing it.
Then her phone buzzed.
BLACK SWAN:
While you were busy, we sent a reminder.
A second file loaded.
It was Aiden awake this time, eyes wide. His oxygen monitor beeped faster. A gloved hand reached for the machine, adjusted something. The numbers dropped.
Then the screen went black.
BLACK SWAN:
Next time you lose focus, we won't stop.