Page 205 of Ironwood Ranch Cowboys

“Of course they did,” Cody says flatly.

I glance toward him. He looks terrifying like this. Controlled down to the molecule. Which means internally he’s probably somewhere near homicide.

Cody opens another system tab.

“There,” he says abruptly.

I lean closer automatically.

The reroute authorization flashes across the screen.

ADMIN OVERRIDE CONFIRMED.

My heartbeat stutters.

No.

No no no.

Because admin-level permissions mean exactly what we already feared. This wasn’t an outside breach. This wasn’t random. This came from inside Ironwood itself.

Cody’s jaw tightens visibly.

“Tell me that’s fake,” I say.

“It isn’t.”

He zooms deeper into the authorization path.

The reroute chain branches across several linked permissions before finally disappearing beneath encrypted internal approval masking.

Which is sophisticated enough to make my stomach drop.

Whoever did this understood the system deeply.

Maybe as deeply as Cody does.

“Oh wow,” I whisper again.

Cody removes his glasses slowly, rubbing one hand across his mouth before putting them back on. A stress habit.

I’ve learned all their stress habits now, which feels weirdly intimate.

“We can still trace it,” I say quickly.

“We’ll try.”

I start exporting copies of the reroute logs onto an external drive while Cody digs deeper into the admin pathways.

My thumb taps rapidly against my camera body sitting beside the keyboard.

The room suddenly feels too warm. Too small. And underneath all of it sits one horrible realization: Whoever moved that payment probably knows by now that we saw it happen.

A cold knot tightens low in my stomach.

Cody must notice the shift in my expression because his voice lowers. “Annie.”

“I know.”