Chapter 10: The Countermove

The war room hadn't been used in years.

It was built back when the Kings still thought threats came with faces and names, when enemies announced themselves instead of hiding in code and shadow. Now the screens lining the walls blazed to life again, casting cold blue light across the table. Financial grids. Security feeds. Encrypted data streams scrolling past in silent, neon urgency.

I stood at the head of the table.

Not because they put me there. Because I walked there, and nobody stopped me.

Lucien noticed. I saw his eyes track the movement, something calculating flickering behind them. Rowan leaned against the far wall, arms crossed, watching the screens, and me, with an expression I couldn't read. Elias's fingers flew across the main console, his face lit by the glow of cascading code.

"The breach wasn't an attempt to steal," Elias said, his voice echoing in the sterile room. "It was a signature."

I nodded once. "They wanted to confirm access."

Lucien's brow furrowed. "Explain."

I turned toward the largest monitor, my silhouette sharp against the flood of data. "If they'd emptied the account, you'd trace the movement instantly. But they didn't take anything. They marked it. They're telling you your walls are porous. It's a message."

Rowan's gaze sharpened. "What kind of message?"

"Psychological," I said, my voice dropping. "They want you unsettled. Off-balance. They're hoping you'll make a mistake."

Elias let out a slow breath. "Well, it worked. I'm unsettled."

I crossed my arms, mirroring the defensive posture all three of them wore like armor. "Only if we react emotionally."

Lucien stepped closer to the screen. "So we don't."

"No," I corrected. "We respond strategically."

Rowan pushed off the wall, closing the distance between us. "And what does that look like?"

I met his eyes, refused to blink. "Visibility."

Lucien's reaction was immediate. "Absolutely not."

"They tagged an offshore account," I continued, ignoring him. "They're signaling that they're watching. So we give them something worth watching. Something curated. Controlled."

Elias's head tilted, interest flickering across his face. "Controlled exposure. A digital honeypot."

"Exactly."

Rowan's jaw went tight. "You want to make yourself bait."

"I want to make myself unpredictable."

Silence stretched, thick and suffocating. The tension wasn't romantic, it was tactical, surgical. But something in Rowan's posture shifted. Not disapproval. Something rawer. Concern that felt too personal to name.

"You don't understand how they operate," he said quietly, and there was history in his voice, years of it, heavy and dark.

I tilted my head, held his gaze. "And you don't understand that I'm not three years old anymore, Rowan."

That landed like a slap.

Lucien looked away. This wasn't strategy anymore. It had become something else entirely.

Rowan stepped closer. Not threatening. Not soft. Just a man barely keeping himself in check. "I know you're not."

I held my ground, my heart pounding so hard I was sure he could hear it. But I kept my face cold. "Then stop treating me like I'm made of glass."

He looked at me differently then. Not as a responsibility. Not as a ghost from his past. But as a woman standing her ground in the middle of a war zone. His eyes flickered—quick, almost imperceptible, down the line of my jaw, the set of my shoulders, the defiance burning in my expression.

It wasn't just desire. It was recognition.

He was seeing the Alpha in me.

He caught himself and straightened, his voice rough. "I treat you like someone who matters."

The room went still.

Lucien cleared his throat deliberately, shattering the moment. "We need to move forward. Elias?"

Elias tapped a key, and his expression went dark. "There's something else."

All attention snapped to the central screen. A new data stream appeared, encrypted traffic originating from inside the estate network.

Rowan's expression turned lethal. "That's internal."

Lucien's voice dropped to something dangerous. "Someone inside the estate pinged the tagged account."

My pulse actually slowed. This made sense. This was a pattern I could track. A threat I could fight.

"They're not just watching," I said quietly. "They're listening."

Elias nodded. "Someone inside is feeding them confirmation in real time."

Rowan's jaw clenched so hard I heard his teeth grind. "Security lockdown. Now."

Lucien shook his head. "Too obvious. They'll cut the line and vanish."

I stepped closer to the console. "Don't shut it down. Let them think their access is working. If you slam the door, they disappear into the shadows. If you leave it cracked, they get confident." I paused. "They get sloppy."

Elias's mouth twitched. "You're suggesting we trace the leak by allowing the treason to continue."

"Yes."

Rowan studied me carefully, searching for doubt. "You're comfortable with that risk?"

I looked him dead in the eye. "I've lived my entire life under risk, Rowan. At least this time, I know where it's coming from."

Something flickered in his expression. Not authority. Respect.

Lucien nodded slowly. "We monitor. No confrontation yet."

Minutes ticked by in high-tension silence while Elias isolated the signal. Finally, a small blinking node appeared on the digital map of the estate.

Residential wing. Staff corridor.

Rowan's voice was ice. "Pull the ID."

The system processed. Then a name appeared.

I didn't recognize it. But they did.

Rowan's shoulders went rigid. "He's been here sixteen years."

Lucien's expression darkened. "Which means he was planted shortly after we brought her back the first time."

My stomach dropped. "He's a sleeper."

Elias closed the file. "We detain him quietly. No scene."

Rowan moved toward the door, intent blazing in every step. But my voice stopped him.

"Wait."

He paused, hand on the doorframe. I walked closer, not into his space, but claiming my own.

"Don't interrogate him yet."

Lucien frowned. "Why? He's the key."

"Because if he doesn't report back on schedule," I said calmly, "they'll know we found the leak. They'll go dark, and we lose any chance of tracing it back to the source."

Elias nodded slowly. "She's right. We need to maintain the illusion of ignorance."

Rowan looked down at me. "Then what do you suggest?"

I held his gaze. "Let me talk to him first. Alone."

Lucien's response was sharp. "No."

I didn't look away from Rowan. "He won't expect me. He thinks I'm the victim. The leverage. The weak point. I can make him underestimate me." I paused. "And that's when he'll slip."

Silence fell again. Rowan's eyes searched mine, calculating risk, measuring threat, reading the fire I wasn't bothering to hide anymore.

"You think you can outmaneuver a trained operative?" he asked.

"I think I can make him believe I'm exactly what he wants me to be."

Rowan stepped closer. So close I could feel the heat radiating off him, the restraint coiled tight in every muscle. "You are not a pawn, Ava."

"I'm not trying to be," I said quietly. "I'm trying to be the player."

His gaze dropped again, brief, controlled, tracing the defiance in my expression, the steel in my spine. For a split second, something unspoken passed between us.

Not history. Not obligation.

Choice.

Lucien broke the moment. "Time's running out."

Rowan exhaled once, sharp, decisive. He nodded. "You talk to him. But I'm in the observation room. The second it goes south, I'm through that door."

I allowed myself the smallest, coldest smile. "Of course."

As we turned toward the exit, I caught Lucien glancing at Elias. Something passed between them, an acknowledgment.

The war had officially resumed.

But the hierarchy had shifted.

I wasn't the hidden weakness anymore.

I was the vanguard.

And Rowan? For the first time in his life, he wasn't just protecting me.

He was realizing he might not be able to keep up with what I was becoming.