Her stomach dropped. “I know about it, but what does it have to do with me?”
“Someone made a stitch with it.” Emberly’s voice was tight. “They’ve edited in footage of Liam with that kid, plus some other clip of you two with a different kid, then a clip of you two walking away together with your hand on his arm. It’s crystal clear, Nimue—your face, front and center. They’re calling you hisgirlfriend.”
Ice flooded Nimue’s veins. She’d been so careful. And now this? A viral video was a billboard screaming her location to the Bratva—neon lights and all.
“I’ll take care of it. Don’t worry.”
“Too late. I’m already pacing. Nimue, listen to me.” Emberly’s tone carried that commanding edge that had kept her alive through a dozen Black Swan missions. “Even if you kill the post, it’s out there. Copies, screenshots, shares—it’s not going away.”
“I’ll be on the road in an hour.”
“What about Liam?”
“What about him?” The ranger’s blue eyes flashed through her memory unbidden. “I only met him once.”
“They’ve tied you to him. His ‘girlfriend.’ You’ve dragged him into this mess, and these people? They’re ruthless. They don’t care about truth. They’ll hurt him to get to you, and they won’t care if an innocent man dies because he was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“No.” The word ripped from her throat. “I’ll scrub it from the internet and keep moving. He’ll be fine. I’m not pulling anyone else in. I’ll be in touch.” She ended the call before Emberly could argue, her sister’s words echoing in her head.
She shoved the satellite gear back into her backpack and turned her e-bike toward the village, mind racing through her options.
She couldn’t use her own setup to find the source and delete it—not now, not with the bus tucked away and time bleeding through her fingers. Moving it to get a signal would take too long, and if the Bratva were closing in, she couldn’t risk leaving more digital breadcrumbs. The village’s main-office computer was her best shot—a public system, anonymous enough if she played it right.
She stopped the bike a quarter mile out and secured it to a bike rack at a trailhead. Grabbing her backpack, she tugged her cap low, tilting her head to dodge the cameras. She shuffled her steps and slouched her shoulders—an oblivious camper, nothing more.
The parking lot sat nearly empty as the sun dipped low, painting the sky in shades of orange and purple. With any luck, most of the staff had clocked out.
A large black-and-white Closed sign faced out in the window of the main-office door. Nimue gave a quick search of the area, then twisted the handle. It popped right open. She loved naive, trusting people. Another sweeping glance around, then she slipped inside the main office.
The door creaked faintly on its hinges. She scanned the hall—empty. She moved quickly, her Vans silent on the Berber carpet.
She paused at the first office with the light off, hand testing the knob—unlocked. A small stroke of luck. Ducking inside, she locked the door behind her with a soft click and took a moment to assess the room. The desk sat under a disaster zone of papers and coffee rings staining the wood. A clunky desktop PC hummed in the corner, its fan whirring softly.
She slid into the chair, fingers already moving over the keyboard. The password was laughably simple—admin123—andshe was in within seconds. The screen flickered but stayed. Not quite the setup she was used to. She opened a browser and navigated to Instagram. There it was: the video, racking up views by the minute, each new one a knife to her safety.
Her face stared back at her, unmistakable, spliced alongside Liam’s broad shoulders and a photo from that rescue. The footage wasn’t nearly as good as what she had from her cameras. Text flashed across the video: “Sorry, ladies. Looks like Ranger Hero is not so single after all.”
Oh brother.
She hacked the account in moments. With a few keystrokes, she deleted the post, watching it vanish from the feed. But she didn’t stop there. She sent a fake policy violation notice to the poster, crafting it to look official, hoping to deter them from reposting. Then she scoured the platform, searching for copies, reposts, anything that might have spread. She deleted them one by one, until every search came up empty. With luck, the posters would drop it without further inquiry.
She then wiped the browser history, clearing the cache and resetting the desk to its original state—papers slightly askew, just as she’d found them. She pulled her cap low again and slipped out the door.
Well, that was easy.
She was three steps from the exit when the main-office door swung open.
Wouldn’t you know it, Ranger Liam stepped through, his presence filling the hallway.
She froze.
His blue eyes locked onto hers, recognition flashing instant and bright. He stopped, crossing his arms over his wide chest, his stance blocking her escape route. The ranger uniform—khaki shirt, cargo pants—only emphasized his solid build, and the wayhe looked at her, steady and unyielding, sent electricity down her spine.
Run!The voice inside screamed at her. Maybe she had enough of Emberly in her to try to bowl past him?—
“You.”
Oh boy.See, she clearly wasn’t one of those sneaky Black Swans because she simply couldn’t move.