"We have a mole."
The words had barely left my lips when the room went black.
Not the darkness of a power outage, but the deliberate, suffocating void of a system kill. The wall of monitors died instantly, the blue glow vanishing, plunging the War Room into shadow. The hum of the server fans cut out, replaced by a deafening silence.
I spun around in the swivel chair. "What are you doing? I almost had the trace!"
Cyprian stood by the master breaker on the wall, his hand still on the lever. In the dim emergency lighting that flickered to life along the floorboards, he looked less like a husband and more like an executioner.
"That IP," he said, his voice dangerously low. "192.168.1.5. Do you know what server that is?"
"It’s local," I said, standing up. My hands were shaking, not from fe
