Chapter 8

EIGHT

T he city sprawls beneath me, a glittering tapestry of light and shadow. From my office on the top floor of Rivers Tower, I survey my domain with a mixture of pride and simmering rage. The floor-to-ceiling windows offer a panoramic view that never fails to remind me of the power I wield—and the lengths I'll go to maintain it.

I turn from the vista, my attention drawn to the array of screens covering one wall of my office. Each display feeds me real-time data on Rivers Financial's operations, a constant stream of information that I've always found comforting. But lately, that comfort has been eroded by anomalies that I can't explain, and if there's one thing I despise, it's not being in control.

"Hawk, your cybersecurity team is here."

I press a button, for my assistant granting them entry. "Bring them in, Lucas."

The door opens, admitting a group of men and women in crisp suits led by Lucas Grant, my right-hand man. Their faces are a mix of determination and thinly veiled fear. They know the cost of failure in my world.

"Report," I command, settling into my chair behind the imposing mahogany desk. The leather creaks softly, a sound that usually soothes me. Not today.

Lucas steps forward, tablet in hand. His Adam's apple bobs as he swallows hard. "Sir, we've detected a pattern of... assistance. Someone's been intercepting threats to our systems before they can materialize. Financial transactions diverted, security breaches thwarted."

I lean back, fingers steepled, my voice dangerously soft. "And you haven't been able to trace this... benefactor?"

A ripple of discomfort passes through the group. Sweat beads on foreheads, hands clench imperceptibly.

"Not yet," Lucas admits, his voice steady despite the fear in his eyes. "Whoever it is, they're good. Really good."

I feel a muscle twitch in my jaw, the only outward sign of my growing anger. "Not good enough. Find out who's behind this. I want names, motives, everything. This is private information that's being played with. And if I find out any of you are involved..." I let the threat hang in the air, watching as they pale.

They nod, understanding the implicit promise of violence in my words. As they file out, I call Daniel in. "A moment."

Once we're alone, I fix him with a hard stare. "What aren't you telling me?"

He hesitates, then sighs. "We have a lead. But it's... complicated."

"Spit it out." My patience is wearing thin.

"We believe the interference is coming from Sphinx."

The name hits me like a physical blow. Sphinx—the legendary hacker, untouchable and unidentified for years. I've heard whispers, of course. Everyone in my circles has. But to have Sphinx involved in my affairs...

"Contact them," I order. "Now."

Lucas nods, pulling out his phone to send an encrypted message through channels I prefer not to know about. The response comes back almost immediately, and I can see the frustration on Lucas's face before he even speaks.

"They say only Sphinx can answer our questions, and Sphinx is unavailable to speak at this time."

I feel a surge of anger, my fist slamming down on the desk. The sound echoes through the office like a gunshot. "They're playing games," I snarl. "But why? What's their angle?"

Lucas flinches but holds his ground. "We don't know, sir. It could be a trap, or they might be after company secrets."

I stand abruptly, pacing behind my desk. If Sphynx wants company secrets, there's nothing I can do about it. Sphynx is the best. Whoever they are, they wouldn't help me to then steal. Something's not adding up. "What do we know about Sphinx's recent activities?"

"Not much, sir. They've been quiet lately. The only notable tech news has been the launch of that new cybersecurity firm, West Securities."

I pause. "Devin West's company?"

Lucas nods. "Yes, sir. They've been making waves in the industry. Devin West herself is said to be highly skilled."

I grunt, recalling the dossier I'd had compiled on Devin when she returned to the city. Her company had caught my attention, but there had been nothing to suggest a connection to Sphinx or any hacker groups.

"Keep digging," I order Lucas. "I want to know everything about West Securities, and I mean everything. But keep it quiet. If Devin West is involved in this, I don't want her tipped off."

As Lucas leaves, I turn back to the window, my mind racing. Why would Sphinx care about Rivers Financial? Are they setting me up? And where does Devin fit into all of this?

The anger builds inside me, a familiar, almost comforting pressure. I need an outlet, and I know just where to find one.

"Daniel," I speak into my secure phone. "Meet me at the warehouse. Bring our... guest."

An hour later, I'm standing in a dimly lit room in an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of the city. The air is thick with the metallic scent of blood and the acrid stench of fear. In the center of the room, tied to a chair, is the waiter who handed me that drugged champagne at the gala.

His face is already a mess of bruises and cuts from previous "conversations," but I'm far from done with him.

"Who sent you to drug me?" I demand, my voice echoing in the cavernous space.

The waiter spits blood, his eyes defiant. "Go to hell."

I smile, a cold, mirthless expression that makes him shrink back. "Oh, I intend to, but I'm going to send you there first."

My fist connects with his jaw, the satisfying crunch of bone a balm to my frayed nerves. I lose myself in the rhythm of the beating, each blow a release for my pent-up frustration and rage.

I'm dimly aware of Daniel watching from the shadows, his face impassive. He's seen this side of me before, knows when to intervene and when to let me work out my anger.

Time loses meaning. My knuckles are split and bleeding, but I barely feel the pain. The waiter's face is unrecognizable, a swollen mass of torn flesh and shattered bone. His breathing is labored, each inhale a wet, gurgling sound.

"Boss," Daniel's voice cuts through the haze of violence. "That's enough. We still need him alive if we're going to get the name of who asked him to drug you."

I step back, chest heaving, adrenaline coursing through my veins. As the red mist clears from my vision, I realize I've gone too far. The waiter is barely conscious, teetering on the edge of death.

"Clean this up," I order Daniel, my voice hoarse. "Keep him alive. I'm not done with him yet."

As I turn to leave, my bloody hands clenched at my sides, a face flashes in my mind. Devin. Her green eyes, sharp and knowing, seem to pierce through me, judging me for what I've done.

I shake my head, trying to dispel the image. Why am I thinking of her now in this moment of brutality?

Back in my penthouse, I stand under the scalding spray of the shower, watching as the water turns pink with blood—the waiter's and my own. The events of the day swirl in my mind like a toxic whirlpool: Sphinx's interference, Regina's veiled threats, Devin's possible involvement.

As I step out of the shower, wrapping a towel around my waist, I catch sight of my reflection in the steamed-up mirror. My eyes are cold, empty. The face of a man who will do anything to protect what's his.

I press my forehead against the cool glass, closing my eyes for a moment. The weight of my empire presses down on me, a constant reminder of what I stand to lose if I make one wrong move. Like trusting people. I trust only myself.

"Who can I rely on?" I whisper to my reflection.

The thought of reaching out to Devin crosses my mind, but I hesitate. If she is involved in all of this, approaching her directly could tip my hand. And if she's not... well, that presents its own set of complications.

I dress quickly, my mind made up. It's time to take a more active role in this investigation. If Sphinx wants to play games, I'll show them just how dangerous a player I can be.

As the night wears on, I find myself unable to focus. The screens before me blur, the data meaningless in the face of my growing obsession. Devin's face haunts me, her green eyes seeming to mock my efforts to unravel this mystery.

I slam my laptop shut, frustration boiling over. This is ridiculous. I'm Hawk Rivers. I don't get distracted. I don't lose control.

Before I can talk myself out of it, I'm in the elevator, descending to the private garage where my Aston Martin waits. The engine purrs to life, a sound that usually calms me. Tonight, it only fuels my urgency.

The city streaks by in a blur of neon and shadow as I navigate the late-night streets. I know where I'm going, though I've never been there myself. The dossier on Devin included her address—a high-end apartment in a renovated industrial building. The kind of place that values privacy and discretion.

I park a block away, my heart pounding with an unfamiliar rhythm. Is it anticipation? Fear? I'm not used to this uncertainty, and I don't like it.

The lobby is deserted at this hour, the night concierge barely glancing up as I stride past. The elevator ride to her floor feels interminable. With each passing second, I question my decision to come here. I can't stay away from her. Every second feels like a fucking eternity and I'm not sure

But it's too late to turn back now. I'm standing in front of her door, my hand raised to knock. For a moment, I hesitate.

I knock, three sharp raps that echo in the quiet hallway.

Seconds stretch into eternity. I'm about to turn away, cursing myself for this moment of weakness, when I hear movement inside. The soft padding of bare feet on hardwood. A pause.

The door opens, and there she is. Devin, dressed in silk pajamas, her dark hair tousled as if she'd been tossing and turning in bed. She's fucking perfect. The anger and frustration from the day disappear as I stare at her. Her eyes widen in surprise, then narrow with something that might be suspicion... or interest.

"Hawk." My name sounds so fucking good coming out of her mouth. "What are you doing here?"

Devin studies me for a long moment, her gaze so penetrating I feel exposed in a way I never have before. Then, without a word, she steps back, opening the door wider.

And even if I don't want to admit it, she's in control tonight.