LAYLA’S POV
"No," I whispered, the word scraping against my throat. "No, Tye. That doesn’t make sense."
I stared at the red letters on the screen, HELENA PORTER, but my mind refused to process it. It was like trying to fit a square peg into a round hole.
It won’t fit well!
"I don’t want to believe it either, but the log doesn’t lie, Layla," Tye said, though his voice lacked its usual conviction. "That’s her biometric ID. She put her thumb on the scanner and authorised that package."
"But she was crying," I argued, pacing the small room. "She ripped her own clothes to bind his wounds. She sat by that door for five hours, holding a cup of water she was too terrified to drink. Tye, if she wanted him dead, why did she scream for the medic?"
Tye ran a hand over his face, looking conflicted. "Maybe she didn’t know it was a bomb?"
"Maybe..." I stopped, thinking back to the chaotic mornings at the office. "Maybe she was just being efficient. A courier arrives with a ’Personal Executive’ package. She sees it, assumes it’s urgent, overrides the scan to save time, and drops it on his desk. She does that ten times a week with contracts."
"That is a hell of a coincidence, Layla," Tye said grimly, closing the laptop with a snap. "She overrides security on the one box that blows up the building? This is exactly why I don’t trust completely. Ever."
I stopped pacing and looked at him. His face was tight, and his eyes was guarded in a way I hadn’t seen in weeks.
"Of all people, I thought you would be the first to give her the benefit of the doubt. I thought you liked her," I said softly.
Tye stiffened. "That’s irrelevant."
"Is it?" I walked over to the small row of plastic chairs against the wall and sat down, patting the seat next to me. "Sit, Tye. Please. Just for a minute."
He hesitated, looking at the door as if expecting an attack, but finally sat down heavily beside me. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, staring at his clasped hands.
"I’ve seen the way you look at her," I said gently. "In the hallway. At her apartment. Your interactions and all. You and Helena... you were building something."
"We weren’t building anything," Tye muttered. "I was doing my job. Assessing a potential asset."
"You’re a terrible liar, Tye," I said. "I know you. And I know you’re scared."
Tye let out a harsh breath, a sound that waslike a half-laugh, half-scoff. He pulled the collar of his shirt down slightly, revealing the jagged top of a scar that disappeared beneath his tactical vest.
"You see this?" he asked quietly.
I nodded. "A bullet wound."
"Three years ago," Tye said in a distant voice. "I was working protection for a client. I met a girl. Smart, funny, looked at me like I was the only guy in the room. We were together for six months. I thought... I actually thought she was the one."
He traced the scar through his shirt.
"She sold me out to the Volkov family for fifty grand," he said in a flat, cold voice. "She gave them my route, my schedule, and the keys to the safe house. I took a bullet to the chest that missed my heart by two centimetres. The only reason I’m alive is because the shooter had a jamming issue on the second round."
I stared at him, my heart aching. "Tye... I didn’t know."
"This city," he gestured vaguely to the window, "it reminds me of her. Every shadow looks like a setup. The hole in my chest is enough of a reminder of her betrayal. I don’t need another one."
He turned to look at me, his eyes intense.
"So when I see a biometric log that says Helena Porter signed for a bomb," he said, "I don’t see a scared girl who made a mistake. I see a pattern. I see a honey trap. And I see you and Axel getting killed because I let my guard down again."
I reached out and placed my hand over his clenched fist.
"I understand," I said. "I do. And you have every right to be suspicious. But Tye... look at me."
He met my gaze.
"Helena isn’t that girl from back then," I said firmly. "You have instincts, Tye. Good ones. If she was truly evil, if she was truly playing us, your gut would have told you before you ever looked at a scanner log. You liked her because you saw something real. Don’t let a ghost from your past blind you to what’s in front of you."
Tye looked at me for a long moment, the tension in his shoulders slowly releasing.
"I didn’t trust you too, you know?"
"Really?"
"I told Axwl you were just like everyone else out there."
"Thanks for the vote of confidence," I saw with a chuckle I couldn’t hold back.
"I guess I was wrong, though."
I simply nodded, trying to find my words.
"Maybe she’s guilty," I conceded. "Maybe she did it knowingly. But maybe she’s just an assistant who saw a package for her boss and tried to be helpful. We owe it to her, and to ourselves, to find out the truth before we condemn her."
Tye sighed heavily, running a hand over his face. "You’re too good for this business, Layla."
"I’m learning," I said with a small, tired smile.
He was quiet for a moment, staring at the floor. When he spoke again, his voice was raw. "What if you’re wrong? What if she fooled all of us?"
"Then we deal with it," I said. "But we deal with facts, not fear. Not ghosts. Not old wounds that have nothing to do with her."
"She has Henry’s blood," Tye said quietly. "Same family. Same genes. What if manipulation runs in the family?"
"She also has the evidence that could destroy Henry," I reminded him. "She found it. She took pictures of everything. If she was working with him, why would she do that?"
Tye’s jaw worked as he processed that. "Unless it’s a setup. Unless the evidence is fake, meant to lead us down a dead end."
"Or unless she’s exactly what she appears to be," I countered. "A young woman caught between loyalty to her family and doing the right thing. Sound familiar? Isn’t that the same impossible choice we put her in?"
The silence between us was heavy with uncertainty.
Finally, Tye let out a long breath. "I hate this. I hate not knowing."
"So do I," I admitted. "But hating it doesn’t give us the right to destroy an innocent person. If Helena is guilty, we’ll find out. But if she’s innocent and we treat her like a criminal, we lose her. And right now, she might be the only person who can help us bring down Henry."
Tye looked at me, something shifting in his eyes. The hardness was still there, but beneath it, I saw the trace of something else. Hope, maybe. Or just the desperate wish that he hadn’t been fooled again.
"Alright," Tye said, straightening up. "So, what’s the call?"