The USB drive sat untouched on Emma’s coffee table, a black sliver of plastic and secrets. The warning still echoed:

“Don’t trust Jack Hayes either.”

She stared at it through the night, sipping coffee gone cold, her laptop closed but waiting. If the file was corrupted, it could destroy her system. If it was traced, it could reveal her source—or worse, her intentions.

But she had already stepped too far into this.

At dawn, she ran a system scan, created a shadow partition, and ...