NOAH
Ever since the encrypted message had come from Zane, it had hit my phone like a gunshot in the dead of night, its cold glow slicing through the darkness of my office. I could still recall the venom I felt as I read out the text and wanting to relieve the rage, I pulled out my phone and read it again, for what seemed like the millionth time in 48 hours.
"Harper West is a loose end. Handle it permanently. Leave no traces."
I was right to be pissed, those words were stripped of warmth, as if ordering Harper West's death was just another transaction in Atlas's billion-dollar ledger. But this wasn't some rival cartel runner or a snitch who had crossed the line. It was Harper West. The journalist who had dared to expose the cartel roots festering beneath Atlas's tech-investment empire, only for me to crush her work with ruthless precision, because I had been a dutiful soldier obeying an order. But not this time.
My fingers hovered over the screen, trembling with rage, as I typed in a few letters to send over to Zane. But I deleted the reply before typing another apologetic word. Pleading again after our brawl in the lounge was pointless. I had already laid my case bare, having begged for the only favor I had ever asked in over ten years of loyalty for Harper to live. His response had been unyielding regardless.
It had been a decade since he had pulled me from my visionless life, given me a stake in Atlas, turned my rogue coding into a multibillion-dollar shield for our cartel operations, yet he couldn't spare her life for me.
Rebellion flared in my chest, its spark igniting after years of loyal obedience. For the first time, I hated Zane. How could he not grant me that one mercy?
"Fine. I'd take it, even if it meant torching the empire we'd built." I whispered to the faint hum of servers tucked behind a glass panel. My reflection stared back from the window. I noticed how my eyes had become dark from sleepless nights. Zane and Harper would be the death of me.
Harper wasn't making this easy. Since Audrey and I had pulled the rug under her exposé, she had been shattered. I had watched her through security feeds my men had in her apartment.
Guilt had gnawed at me every night, giving a replay of how I had blindly chosen Atlas over her, protecting the empire's facade at the cost of the woman who had made me dream of something beyond bloody crimes.
But no more. Zane's refusal had snapped the chains on my loyalty.
I grabbed my keys from the desk, feeling the cold metal against my palm, and strode to the elevator. I pat my pocket to be sure that the USB drive in my inner jacket was still there. The USB contained live recordings of Atlas's darkest secrets, from cartel shipments disguised as AI prototypes to money laundering through venture capital deals, Zane's voice ordering hits in encrypted chats all timestamped, to avoid deniability. It was a leverage I had been compiling, blame it on being paranoid in a cartel world. If the content was ever streamed live, it would have exposed Atlas for what it really was: a cartel front. Zane, Damian, Ethan, Liam, and I would all go down for it too. But for Harper? I would hand it over and watch the flames consume it all.
The elevator hummed downward, the sterile light reflecting my resolve back at me. In the garage, I pulled up to my black SUV, roaring its engine, as I slid into the leather seat.
It had started to rain, and it battered the windshield in furious waves, the wipers slashing frantically as I pulled into the wet streets heading for Harper's apartment.
What was I doing?
Throwing away a decade of loyalty to a woman who had used me as a source? If I gave Harper the drive, our empire would implode, and thousands of employees would also get caught in the fallout. And me? I would become a branded betrayer, hunted by the only family I had known.
Was she worth it? The question clawed at me relentlessly.
My worry gnawed deeper as the traffic crawled on with headlights slicing through the rain . Zane would never forgive me for it. He would hunt me with the same ruthlessness he had used on our enemies.
But just as the wipers cleared the windshield, my doubt ebbed away. Fuck Zane Calloway.
I parked two blocks away from her apartment, killing the engine, and pinned the Glock strap on me and stepped into the deluge. As I moved through backstreets, the rain soaked my jeans in a minute, making me hasten my steps until I broke into a run, while the wind whipped the rain into my face like a lash.
When I got to her window, I paused, my breath formed a fog on the pane. I peeped inside the room. It had a single flickering lamp, making it a bit dim to see clearly. There were tons of takeout boxes, and Kleenex papers almost everywhere. I peeped closer until I saw Harper sat curled on the couch, her knees drawn tight to her chest. Her hair fell in tangled strands to her cheeks, sunken as she kept staring into nothingness. She looked fragile for the fierce journalist who had challenged Atlas.
If I had any doubt about what I had planned to do, seeing her in that state cemented my choice. I felt peace settle over me, dissolving my doubts. This was right. She was worth it.
I rapped on the glass in three sharp knocks.
She jolted, head snapping up with alarm.
Fear flashed across her face until she looked in my direction and, recognizing me, she got up slowly, the blanket slipping to reveal rumpled sweats hanging loose on her frame. She approached the window with cautious steps. I heard the bolt click, and she slid it open.
"Noah?" Her voice was rough, "What are you doing here? Come to gloat? Or finish the job your hacks started?"
I climbed through. "Hello, Miss journalist. I'm here to fix this."
She closed the window, latching it with a sharp click, then leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "Fix? What's left to fix?"
I peeled off my soaked jacket, hanging it on a chair, water dripping onto the hardwood. My shirt clung to my skin, cold and heavy, but I ignored it, focusing on her. The room felt smaller with us both in it, "Zane ordered the hit. On you. Loose end, he called it."
I noticed how color drained from her already pale face, but she didn't break. She took three steps to the kitchenette and three back, "A kill order? For exposing the truth? Jesus, Noah, I knew Atlas was dirty, but this..." She stopped, eyes narrowing. "Why tell me?"
I stepped into her path, halting her. "You were right about everything. I debunked your story to protect it. But now? I'm done protecting it."
She searched my face, skepticism battling a flicker of hope. "Why now? What's changed?"
I reached for her hand, but she pulled back. I didn't blame her. "Because I asked Zane to spare you. My one favor after ten years. He refused. For the first time, I hate him for it."
She sank onto the couch after a long pause, gesturing for me to join. I did, since it was not big, our thighs were brushing against each other, sending heat sparking through me. "What now?" she asked.
"Better than hiding away." I pulled the drive from my pocket, holding it up. "This contains live recordings of Atlas's crimes in real time. Stream this live and salvage your career. Expose us all for good."
Her eyes widened, and with trembling hands, she took it, turning it over in her palm like it might burn her. "This... it would destroy you. Zane, your brothers and they would hunt you too."
"Let them." The words came out easily. I cupped her face, ignoring her flinch, my thumb brushing her cheekbone. Her skin was warm, soft against the cold of my hand, "Harper, I choose you. Let Atlas burn."
Tears glistened in her eyes, but she leaned into my touch. "Noah... why? After I used and exposed you?"
"Because you saw me." "I am sorry it took Zane's order for me to realize what a mess I am."
She searched my face, then leaned in, her lips brushing mine. "How will the world believe me now? I lost my platform and credibility,." she whispered.
"You can stream live on my laptop. It is secured."
I pulled away from her enough to reach for my bag and pick the laptop from the bag, setting it on the cluttered coffee table.
I set up the laptop, my fingers flying over keys as I routed through proxies. I played a test clip of Zane's voice ordering a hit,
"Damning. This salvages me," she murmured and I heard the fear in her voice,
"No regrets."
"Okay. Are you sure you want to go down like this?"
"I am, let's do this."
She nodded, patting my hand.
She was worth it. Fuck Atlas.
