Page 73 of Shadow Of Sin

“You identified the gap at eight days out.” His voice is cold and accusatory. The hairs on the back of my neck prickle.

“That was the biggest window. But there were smaller ones with a lower probability for an attack. We deprioritized them because we were building the trap around the main security gap.” I close my eyes. “Dmitri didn’t need the optimal window. He already had everything. He took the first opening he could find. Because why the fuck would he wait?”

“When he called yesterday,” Ronan says. “He was telling you it was already done.”

“Yeah.” I grit my teeth. “I know that now.”

Ronan is silent for a few seconds, and each one that ticks past makes my gut knot tighter. Finally, he speaks. “Get to the house. Bring her.”

“Ronan—”

“Bring her. She needs to hear this. And she needs to be in the room when we figure out what the hell to do next.”

He hangs up. I stand in Eva’s kitchen staring at my phone.

Dmitri hit the building last night. While I was in bed with Eva. While her breathing was slow against my chest and my brain was quiet for the first time in my life, Dmitri’s people were walking through a door she opened for him.

Not on purpose. She didn’t know what the calendar was for. She didn’t know the building was Adriana’s. She didn’t know any of it until I told her.

But the data was hers. Her fingerprints are on every piece of it. And a man is in the hospital because of the work she did.

She’s going to destroy herself over this. I know it before I turn around. I know it the way I know her now…her patterns, her tells, the way she takes responsibility for everything, including things that aren’t hers to carry.

I hear her feet pad on the floor behind me.

“What happened?” she says.

I turn. She’s standing in the kitchen doorway wearing my Metallica shirt and nothing else, and her hair is a mess, and her eyes are still soft from sleep, and this is the last second she’s going to look like that for a long time.

“Dmitri hit the Back Bay building,” I say. “I just spoke to Ronan.”

The softness leaves her face, and it’s quickly replaced by alarm.

“The Renaldi calendar,” she says, tugging her hair as she paces in front of the refrigerator.

“Yeah.”

“I gave him that.”

“You didn’t know⁠—”

“I gave him the schedule that told him when to walk in.” Her voice rises. “Is anyone hurt?”

“A security guard. He’s in the hospital. He’ll be okay.”

She stops pacing and grips the edge of the counter. Her knuckles go white, her shoulders quaking.

“Eva—”

“Don’t.” She whips her head at me, her jaw clenched. “Don’t tell me it’s not my fault. Don’t tell me I was coerced. Don’t tell me I didn’t know. Because I knew something was wrong. I knew every job was connected. I saw the patterns and I chose not to look because looking is what got me locked up last time.” Her voice cracks. “And now someone’s in the hospital because I was too freaked out to open my eyes.”

I want to cross the kitchen and put my hands on her shoulders and tell her she’s wrong. But she’s not entirely wrong. And she’d know if I was lying.

“Ronan wants us at the house,” I say.

“Now?”

“Now.”