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I leaned into him—into the quiet promise behind his voice. “Don’t let me fall apart tomorrow.”
“I won’t,” he said.
Elias tilted his head down, lips ghosting near my temple. “And if you do, I’ll be right there. Holding the pieces.”
I nodded against his chest, letting myself breathe for the first time since the rooftop. Since the scream.
Jessa’s death wasn’t done with me. Not even close. There’d be a funeral. An obituary with a photo that didn’t do her justice. A church bulletin and a closed casket and people whispering about what really happened on that rooftop. I’d have to face her family. Her sister, who’d always eyed me like I was the bad influence. Her father, who once told Jessa I’d either break her heart or get her killed. I wondered if they’d look at me like I’d delivered both. I didn’t know if they’d even want me there. But I’d go. I had to. I’d stand in the back pew, if that’s all they’dgive me, and I’d grieve her out loud. Because she mattered. And because guilt like this doesn’t go away just because someone says it wasn’t your fault.
“I think I love you,” I whispered to Elias.
“I know,” he said. Then, after a beat: “I think I love you, too.”
There wasn’t fire in it. Not tonight. Not yet.
There was just warmth. Steadiness. The kind of love that doesn’t need permission to exist—it just does.
And as I stood there in the quiet, knowing the hardest days were still ahead, I also knew something else.
I wouldn’t be facing them alone.
28
ELIAS
Vivi’s weight against me in the SUV was a quiet anchor, her hand brushing mine on the center console as we drove through Charleston’s humid night. Emmaline sat in the back, her breathing soft, exhaustion already pulling her under.
The police station’s fluorescent glare faded behind us, but the weight of Vivi’s arrest, Jessa’s death, and thoseShadyLadyphotos—Vivi’s desperate reach, Jessa’s fall—burned in my mind. Department 77 had played us, hijacking Jessa’s account to frame Vivi, to pressure Dominion Hall, but I’d struck back, hiringPhantomZeroto dismantle their network. Now, I just needed to get Vivi and her sister safe, then watch the battle unfold.
We pulled into Dominion Hall’s gates, the fortress’s stone and glass a stark contrast to the city’s soft decay. Vivi stirred, her green eyes heavy but steady, meeting mine with a trust that made my chest ache. Emmaline blinked awake, her guarded expression softening as she took in the compound’s sprawling grounds.
I led them inside, the marble halls cool and silent, guiding Emmaline to a guest suite with a wide bed and harbor views. She nodded gratefully, her suitcase thudding to the floor, and was asleep before I closed the door.
Vivi’s room—my suite—was next. She sank onto the bed, curls spilling across the black sheets, her body folding into itself like it had in the boutique.
“You don’t have to stay,” she murmured, voice hoarse from grief and the station’s weight.
I knelt beside her, brushing a stray curl from her face. “I’m not going anywhere, Red. Sleep. I’ll be close.”
Her eyes flickered, a ghost of her fire, and she nodded, pulling the blanket over herself. Her breathing slowed, deep and even, within minutes.
I stood, watching her for a moment, the woman who’d cracked my world open, now fragile but unbroken. Jessa’s death, the viral images, Department 77’s trap—they’d hurt her, but she was still here, and I’d make sure she stayed safe.
The ops room called, a fortified bunker beneath Dominion Hall’s main structure, its walls lined with servers and screens. I locked the door behind me, the hum of cooling fans a steady pulse.
My laptop booted, connecting to the encrypted channel I’d opened withPhantomZero. The $50 million deal—$12.5 million already paid—was a gamble, but if anyone could gut Department 77’s network, it was this ghost, a hacker who made my skills look pedestrian. I needed their reply, needed to know the battle was on, but first, I had to shore up Dominion Hall’s defenses.
Department 77 wasn’t just a shadow; they were a hydra, and whenPhantomZerostruck, they’d hit back. I ran diagnostics on our firewalls, patching possible vulnerabilities, encrypting data streams, and rerouting traffic through dummy servers. Our network was a fortress, but I added layers—traps to snareintruders, alerts to flag breaches. If they came for us, they’d find a labyrinth, not a door.
My fingers moved fast, code flowing like a second language, but my mind lingered on Vivi, her quiet strength in the apartment, her whispered confession of love. I’d protect her, protect us, no matter the cost.
A ping broke my focus.PhantomZero’s reply loaded, a secure link to a private stream. I clicked, and six screens flared to life, each a window into their attack on Department 77’s network.
It was like watching a maestro conduct chaos, and I was enraptured.
Imagine a city under siege, six armies hitting from different gates, each with a unique strategy. That wasPhantomZero’s work—synchronized, relentless, breathtaking. I leaned forward, eyes darting between screens, my pulse quickening as the battle unfolded.
Screen one showed a brute-force assault, a digital battering ram slamming Department 77’s main server with millions of login attempts, overwhelming their authentication systems. It was like throwing a thousand punches, not to land one but to tire the opponent.