The red warning pulsed, staining the grimy alley bricks with its ominous glow. Yara's throat constricted, air scraping dry against her ribs. `IMMEDIATE ARREST PROTOCOL INITIATED UPON UNAUTHORIZED VOSS BIOMETRIC AUTHENTICATION.` It wasn't just a risk; it was a trap. Julian hadn't just tried to declare her dead; he’d set a snare for her very return. “A retinal scan?” Gideon asked, his voice rough with anger. “He knows that’s the only way you could clear your name. He’s anticipating your move.” Jett, leaning against the dumpster’s dented steel, ran a hand through his perfectly sculpted hair. “Typical Julian. Plays the long game. What’s the plan, Wraith? Storm the castle with a federal welcoming committee?” His tone was light, but his eyes, sharp as obsidian shards, tracked Yara’s face. Yara’s mind raced, discarding options as quickly as they formed. Her pride, a brittle shield she usually clung to, felt like a liability now. She remembered a crisp autumn day, the wind whipping through the ancient oak trees on the Voss estate. She was ten, Julian seventeen, his heavy woolen sleeve pressed against her collar as they stood before the newly carved headstones. The scent of damp earth and lilies still clung to the memory. *“Don’t worry, little spark,” Julian had said, his voice surprisingly steady for a boy who’d just lost everything. “I’ll always protect you. We’re all that’s left.”* The memory flickered, a cruel mirage in the face of his calculated betrayal. The memory turned sour, curdling like vinegar on her tongue. He hadn’t protected her; he’d tried to bury her. She had to dismantle him. Not just for her legacy, but for the ghost of that little girl who had believed him. “We need a distraction,” Yara finally said, her voice tight, devoid of its usual clipped precision. “Something big enough to pull federal agents away from Voss Tower, give us a window to bypass the internal biometrics.” Gideon stepped forward, his posture rigid. “My corporate network. Croft Industries has over a dozen flagship data centers across Meridian City. I can initiate a system-wide white-hat penetration test, a ‘simulated attack,’ that would look like a legitimate, high-level threat. It’s enough to draw the Feds. I’ll make sure it looks like a foreign power trying to breach a critical infrastructure hub.” Yara stared at him, startled into stillness. Croft Industries, her ex-husband’s empire, was his lifeblood. To intentionally create a vulnerability, even a controlled one, could invite real-world scrutiny, disrupt his stock, damage his reputation. He was offering to put his entire livelihood on the line. “That’s… reckless,” she said, the words barely a whisper. “It could cripple you.” “Let it,” Gideon retorted without blinking. “It’s nothing compared to what Julian is doing. Nothing compared to what you’ve lost. I owe you that, and more.” His voice dropped, carrying a blunt sincerity she couldn't entirely dismiss. “I’ll make sure the Feds think it’s a critical threat, diverting their attention long enough. It’ll give you a window, Yara. A genuine opening.” Jett, who had been watching their exchange with an unreadable expression, pushed off the dumpster. He moved with the predatory grace of a seasoned performer, closing the distance between himself and Yara in two silent strides. His hand, cool and firm, cupped her jaw. Before she could react, before Gideon could even register the movement, Jett leaned down and pressed his lips to hers. The press of his lips was brief, cool, and deliberately staged. It tasted of synthetic fruit and something subtly metallic, like the air in a high-voltage data center. Her mind reeled, not from the intimacy, but from the sheer audacity, the blatant performance of it. She shoved him back, her hand flying up to wipe her mouth, her eyes blazing with indignation. “What the hell was that, Wilder?!” Gideon’s jaw went rigid, his skin blanching. His hands balled into fists, knuckles stark white against his skin. “You arrogant bastard!” he snarled, taking a furious step toward Jett. “Get your hands off her!” Jett merely smirked, a sliver of triumph in his eyes as he watched Gideon’s reaction. “What? Just a little emotional support. We’re a team, aren’t we? And she looked like she needed to be reminded of what it feels like to be… appreciated.” The last word was a deliberate jab, aimed squarely at Gideon. “Appreciated?” Gideon lunged forward. He grabbed Jett’s collar, pulling him forward with surprising force. “You think a cheap stunt like that makes up for years of…” “Stop it!” Yara’s voice, sharp and commanding, cut through the escalating confrontation. The idea of her two reluctant allies tearing each other apart in a dumpster-scented alley was beyond ridiculous. “Both of you, control yourselves! We have bigger problems than your pathetic posturing.” She glared at Jett, then at Gideon, who slowly released Jett’s collar, though his eyes remained fixed on the pop idol with murderous intent. Neither man stepped back, their breathing sharp in the confined brick corridor. Just then, Bento, who had been huddled in the corner, meticulously dismantling the military-grade microchip he’d acquired, let out a high-pitched squeak. His usually pallid face was now ashen, his wide eyes fixed on something minuscule clutched between his greasy thumb and forefinger. “Guys,” he whispered, his voice thin with disbelief, “You’re not going to believe this.” He held up the tiny object, a microscopic fleck of polished obsidian no larger than a grain of rice, threaded with almost invisible filaments. It glinted faintly in the dim alley light. “Someone has been listening to every word we’ve said for the last hour.”

Sins of the Brother