The first strike came before dawn.
The lights in the building flickered once, twice—then went out entirely.
The security monitors, normally humming softly with data, went black in a synchronized wave.
The silence that followed was louder than any alarm.
Layla sat upright in bed, heart racing.
For a split second, she thought it was another nightmare.
But the tremor in the air, the oppressive quiet, the way the city's faint hum outside had dropped—it all screamed reality.
She threw on a jacket and bolted for the laptop.
Cole's name flashed across the screen in a message.
"It's happening. I'm here."
Her fingers shook as she unlocked the system.
The bait file, planted hours earlier, sat untouched.
Every other log—deleted.
Every access point—wiped clean.
A deep chill crawled down her spine.
Someone had been watching them closely.
Someone had waited for the right moment.
Within seconds, Cole's voice came through the video call.
"Everyone's down. The cameras, the logs, the alerts—they're all dead."
He cut the feed briefly, then reconnected.
"I've got the guards waking up now, but they're confused—systems offline. This isn't random."
Layla's jaw tightened.
"Whoever did this knew exactly when to hit us."
"Exactly," Cole replied grimly.
He tapped on his desk.
"We'll have to move manually."
Layla swallowed hard.
"Can we trace it?"
"For now, no. But the attack itself tells us everything."
"Everything?"
Cole's eyes burned.
"They know we're close."
By the time the building's emergency lights sputtered back on, the damage had already been done.
Executives scrambled to contain the chaos.
Damien barked orders into his phone while pacing frantically.
Wallace's face, pale and sweat-slicked, twitched with anger.
Security teams burst into server rooms with flashlights, but their expressions told Layla everything—someone had disabled alarms, erased logs, and masked footprints with surgical precision.
Even the front desk staff looked rattled.
This was no random malfunction.
This was a coordinated attack.
Layla marched toward Wallace's office without hesitation.
The door stood half-open.
Inside, Wallace sat rigid, flanked by two aides.
His eyes flicked toward her but didn't soften.
"What now?" he growled.
"We need answers," Layla snapped.
"We were hit before dawn," she continued without waiting for permission.
"The entire security system has been wiped clean. Someone knew when to strike."
Wallace's jaw clenched.
"We're dealing with professionals," he spat.
"Then why isn't anyone investigating?" Layla shot back.
Wallace's eyes flashed with fury.
"Because you're stirring a hornet's nest! There are rules to follow!"
She stepped closer.
"There are rules for cowards hiding behind lies too."
The aides stiffened, but Wallace's eyes darted uncertainly before hardening again.
"This ends here," he barked.
Layla's lips curled into a defiant smile.
"No," she whispered. "It starts here."
That night, Layla received another message from Rhea.
"The game has begun. They know you're close. Protect yourself. Trust no one blindly."
Attached was a map of the building's internal wiring.
It showed pathways to server rooms, maintenance corridors, and blind spots the attackers could exploit.
It also highlighted emergency exits someone could use to slip out unnoticed.
The message was clear.
The attack had been planned long before their investigation began.
The enemy had eyes everywhere.
Layla stared at the screen, breath shallow.
If she acted too hastily, she could destroy the investigation.
If she waited too long, she could be silenced.
Cole's call came through minutes later.
"Rhea sent the wiring map?" he asked grimly.
"Yes."
"Good."
His eyes hardened.
"It means this wasn't random. It was set up for this."
Layla's fingers curled into fists.
"Then let's hit back."
Together, they devised a new plan.
No more digital traces.
No more data left unsecured.
They created a manual relay network—off-grid, encrypted by hand—and assigned watchers at strategic points.
Cole coordinated with trusted security guards, rotating shifts in secret.
Layla, meanwhile, set traps—not on screens but in flesh and bone.
She arranged for one unsuspecting technician to "accidentally" discover a forged file that would bait the enemy into making their next move.
If someone tried to manipulate that technician, they'd be caught in the act.
The danger was real.
But so was their resolve.
Later that night, Layla and Cole sat in silence, their laptops closed, plans sketched on paper sprawled between them.
For a while, neither spoke.
Layla's eyes flitted toward him.
"You could walk away," she murmured.
Cole's eyes softened.
"And leave you alone with this mess?" he asked quietly.
She hesitated.
"I don't want you to get hurt because of me."
His lips twitched with a half-smile.
"I'm already in," he said simply.
The sincerity in his voice disarmed her.
Her eyes glistened with emotion.
For the first time since the scandal erupted, she allowed herself to lean toward him.
His hand found hers.
No words were needed.
Their bond—born from fear, forged in defiance—had hardened into trust.
Unbeknownst to them, cameras not officially part of the system tracked their movements from hidden angles.
Masked figures monitored the building's heat signatures.
Encrypted signals bounced between unknown locations.
The enemy wasn't blind.
They were patient.
And now, they were furious.
But their rage wouldn't reveal them.
Not yet.
As the night deepened, Layla stood at the window, eyes locked on the dark cityscape.
A faint movement at the alley entrance caught her attention.
For a split second, a figure—hooded, cautious—paused before disappearing into the shadows.
Her breath hitched.
She reached for the intercom.
Cole's voice came instantly.
"What is it?"
Layla's eyes never left the alley.
"She's back," she whispered.
Cole's eyes hardened.
"Then let's be ready."