under his control
“Get me eyes on all external data movements. I want every system on lockdown—email, servers, financials, personnel records. If a single byte moves, I want to know where and why.”
“Yes, sir,” the woman nodded, already typing frantically on her tablet.
“Legal?” he barked into the speakerphone.
“We’re getting cease-and-desist letters ready for every outlet. If something leaks—”
“If?” I snapped. “Something already has. This isn’t a threat. It’s a strike.”
I pulled up the USB drive again, scrolling through the last of the decrypted files from Jenna’s friend. There, buried in the middle of a chat log from Valkyrie, was a single reference: