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Chapter 703
Chapter 703:
The security chief was standing near the balcony glass doors, holding a black electronic sweeping wand. The device was screaming. He slid the door open, stepped out into the freezing morning air, and walked directly to the large decorative planter in the corner. He pulled on a pair of black latex gloves and pressed his hand into the wet soil.
A moment later, he withdrew his fist.
He held up a small, crushed piece of black plastic and shattered glass — the remains of a micro-lens camera. The casing had been violently destroyed, likely by a remote self-destruct mechanism triggered when the connection was severed.
“Military-grade high-frequency transmitter,” the chief reported, dropping the debris into a clear plastic evidence bag. “Planted from the roof above using a drop-line p>
Isolde stared at the bag. A wave of profound, sickening clarity washed over her.
She opened her laptop immediately, bypassed the standard login, and pulled up the deep system logs, her fingers moving rapidly across the keyboard.
Lines of red warning text flooded the screen.
𝗣𝗼𝗽𝘂𝗹𝗮𝗿 𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗿𝗶𝗲𝘀 𝗼𝗻
“They used an optical reflection reader,” Isolde said, her voice dropping to a harsh whisper. “They were bouncing a laser off the glass to capture the screen cache p>
She took a slow, deliberate breath, forcing her lungs to expand fully. Then she looked up at Maxwell.
“They were not targeting the hotel,” Isolde said, her voice turning cold and flat. “They were hunting me. They wanted the DARPA algorithm p>
Maxwell’s hands curled into fists. The veins in his forearms pressed against the fabric of his suit jacket. The thought of someone violating her space — of someone hunting her while she was under his protection — ignited something lethal behind his eyes.
He pulled out his encrypted phone and dialed a direct line to Washington.
“I need a full data packet interception protocol on all outgoing Boston nodes,” Maxwell barked. “Lock down the grid p>
Isolde turned back to her screen and ran a rapid diagnostic on her local drive. She needed to know exactly what had been extracted before she shut the lid.
She watched the progress bar load. When it reached one hundred percent, she let out a long, shaky exhale.
“They only captured the outer shell,” Isolde said, leaning back in her chair. “Because I physically closed the hardware, they extracted only fourteen percent of the code — all decoy structure. The core algorithm is intact p>
Maxwell ended his call. He walked to the desk and looked down at her pale face, the dark circles beneath her eyes, and the immense weight she was visibly carrying.
He reached out and placed both of his large, warm hands on her shoulders.
“I will find out who funded this,” Maxwell said, his voice a low and absolute vow. “Nobody touches you, Isolde. Nobody p>
Isolde looked up into his eyes. The sheer, unyielding steadiness in his gaze provided a sudden anchor in the storm. She gave a small, tight nod.
Her secondary phone buzzed on the desk.
She picked it up. It was a secure text from Dr. Nolan Reed, her financial analyst contact in New York.
Wall Street anomaly detected. Three major hedge funds just initiated massive short positions against DARPA-adjacent tech stocks.
Isolde’s eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. The pieces locked together in her mind with cold, mechanical precision.