Her Obsession (by Sheridan Hartin) novel Chapter 102

A Weak Point.

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Nico shoved the pantry door open like he was storming a fortress. The air was cool and thick with the smell of flour, onions, and potatoes stacked in burlap sacks. Sure enough, there on the shelf between tins of tomatoes and a basket of apples sat his precious laptop, folded neatly as if it belonged there all along.

He let out a triumphant noise, darting forward to scoop it up. “Safe and sound,” he muttered, hugging it to his chest for a second before snapping it open right there on a crate of potatoes.

Conner and I exchanged a look. He raised his brows, smirking, and I just shook my head.

“Alright,” Nico said, already tapping furiously at the keys. “Here, look. You mentioned Yakov’s supply runs being predictable. I started cross–referencing the time stamps you gave me with customs reports and some backlogged satellite data.”

I leaned in, watching the screen flicker through maps and numbers, lines forming a spiderweb across Eastern Europe.

“These aren’t just random runs,” Nico went on, eyes bright. “They’re clockwork. Weekly intervals, same routes, same drop points. See here?” He pointed at a series of dots that looped back on themselves. “Three corridors, rotating. They all funnel back toward the Carpathian foothills, exactly like you said. And this-” he hit another key, and half the web lit up red-“is his weak point. The runs overlap here. Too much traffic through one bottleneck.”

Conner stepped closer, resting a hand on the crate and leaning over my shoulder. “So if we cut him off there…”

“…he starves his own network,” Nico finished, grinning. “No supplies, no fuel, no parts. He’ll be forced to show his hand.”

I stared at the glowing lines, my pulse picking up. He was right. It was all there, laid bare in red and white. The pattern Yakov thought was hidden.

A slow smile pulled at my lips. “Nicholaus,” I said softly, eyes still on the screen, “you might have just handed us a way to bleed him.”

Nico puffed up, smug as hell. “Told you it was important.”

Conner chuckled, his breath warm at my ear. “Looks like you’ve got another ghost in the making.”

Conner’s hand came down heavy on the crate, steady, decisive. His smirk was still there, but behind it was something sharper, hungrier.

“We should take this to Pa,” he said.

Nico’s head snapped up. “Now? He’s still in the hall-”

“Aye,” Conner cut him off. “Now. This isn’t something we sit on. If you’re right, Nico, and these runs really are that tight, then Pa needs to see it. He’ll know how to move on it, how to use the lads to our advantage.”

Nico shut his mouth with a click, the laptop clutched tight in his hands. His eyes flicked to me, maybe looking for backup, but I just nodded once. “Conner’s right. Pa needs to know. He’ll see what this means.”

Conner squeezed my hip, approval sparking in his grin, then pushed off the crate. “Good. Let’s go. The sooner we hit him with this, the sooner we start choking Yakov’s network dry.”

Nico muttered something under his breath about “dying of starvation before Ma lets me skip dessert,” but he followed, laptop hugged like

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12:02 Tue, Oct 21

A Weak Point.

a lifeline.

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I trailed after them, heart drumming in my chest, not from fear but from something different. Hope. A plan. This is really happening.

We slipped back into the food hall, the noise of clattering cutlery and laughter crashing over us. It was almost too normal for what we were carrying in our hands. Nico clutched the laptop to his chest like it was a newborn, his jaw tight, while I hovered by the door, scanning the room automatically. Conner didn’t hesitate. He strode straight for the head table, where Pa sat with a mug of something dark and steaming, listening to one of the older men recount a story. The second Conner leaned down and murmured in his ear, Pa’s expression shifted. No questions, no delay, he set the mug aside and rose to his feet. The hall quieted. Conversations trailed off as men watched him move, every eye on the old man as he crossed the floor with purpose. Ma caught sight of him, brows knitting, but he only nodded once at her before flicking his gaze to us at the door.

“Office,” he said, gravel–rough, and that one word carried enough weight to set the whole hall buzzing again the second he was gone.

Conner’s hand brushed mine as he passed, a grounding touch, before falling into step behind his father. Nico and I followed closely, the laptop pressed so tight against his ribs I thought the damn thing might crack.

Pa shut the door behind us, and the click of the latch sounded like a judge’s gavel. The fire burned steadily in the hearth; the maps on the desk looked suddenly less like paper and more like a threat board. Nico set the laptop on the desk and flipped it open with hands that didn’t quite stop shaking. The screen lit up the room with its blue glow, and lines and dots spread across the map like a spider’s web. Pa didn’t move; he just watched. Conner’s jaw was a hard line. Naomi and Liam folded into the doorway like a pair of knives waiting for the word.

“Okay,” Nico said, voice quick. “So–these are the supply runs. Weekly cadence, three primary corridors. They rotate, but there’s an overlap here.” He tapped the screen; a cluster of routes pulsed red. “Everything funnels through this bottleneck–same stretch of road, same small bridge crossing. If you can control that point, you can interrupt all three corridors without having to fight every convoy across the mountains.”

Pa’s finger hovered over the cluster for a long moment, then he pressed a thumb to his lips like men do when they’re counting bodies. “How precise is your timing?” he asked.

“Within a couple of hours. Enough to set an ambush or reroute resources if we’re watching,” I said. I leaned in, pointing to the timeline Nico had overlaid. “They run on schedule because his supply chain needs predictable windows, drivers, forged manifests, and refuelling points. It’s easier for him to manage that way. Disrupt the schedule, and the whole logistic chain starts to jam. He’ll either risk using a new route or he’ll stop moving until he thinks it’s safe. Either gives us an opening.”

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