Page 24 of Hunt Me

“I don’t know, you’re the genius hacker. Frame someone else. Create a decoy. Make him think you’ve moved on to a different target.” Maya sits on the edge of my desk. “Just give him something else to obsess over that isn’tyou.”

The idea has merit. Alexi’s fixation on the Phantom stems from intellectual challenge—being the first person to breach his systems and make him work. If I can shift that focus, make him believe the real threat lies elsewhere...

“I’d need to stay dormant on the Ivanov servers,” I say slowly, mind already racing through possibilities. “Complete radio silence. No traces, no signatures, nothing.”

“Exactly.”

“And fabricate evidence pointing to another hacker. Someone credible enough that he’d buy it.”

“Can you do that?”

My fingers drum against the desk. “There’s a Russian collective I’ve been tracking. They hit the DoD last month. If I can mimic their signature, plant some breadcrumbs suggesting they’ve been working the Ivanov systems...”

“Would he believe it?” She asks.

“Maybe.” I pull up my secondary laptop and already access encrypted files. “The timeline works. They’ve been active in Boston’s financial sector. And Alexi knows I work primarily alone. If a group suddenly shows up with similar capabilities?—”

“He might think they recruited you.”

“Or that I was never the real threat. Just a distraction while they did the heavy lifting.” The plan crystallizes as I speak. “It’s plausible. Barely.”

Maya watches me work; concern is still etched in her features. “And what happens when he figures out it’s fake?”

“Then I’ll deal with it.” I open the first file, scanning code from the Russian collective’s last breach. “But right now, thisis the best option we have besides abandoning everything we’ve built here.”

Maya sighs, defeated. “Fine. But I’m upgrading our security while you work. Motion sensors on the roof, thermal cameras, the works.”

“Good.”

She heads toward her room, pausing at the doorway. “And Iris? Maybe ease up on the sleeping pills tonight. I need you sharp if this goes sideways.”

I don’t answer, already deep in the code. Replicating the Russian collective’s signature requires perfect precision—one wrong variable and Alexi will see through it instantly. My fingers fly across the keyboard, pulling apart their encryption patterns and studying the unique quirks of their malware architecture.

Two hours pass. The framework takes shape, layers of misdirection designed to lead Alexi away from me and toward a phantom threat. I’m building a ghost to chase a ghost.

My phone buzzes.

I ignore it, focusing on embedding the collective’s signature into old Ivanov server logs. Make it look like they’ve been there for weeks, hiding beneath my flashier intrusions.

Another buzz. Then another.

“What the hell?” I grab my phone, expecting spam.

Three messages from an unknown number.

Nice try with the Russian collective. But I’ve been tracking their movements for months. They haven’t touched our systems.

My stomach drops.

Besides, their code is crude compared to yours. Functional, but inelegant. You write like a concert pianist. They write like someone learning chopsticks.

I stare at the screen, mind racing. He’s watching. Right now. Monitoring my systems in real-time.

There’s no use deflecting, Iris. No use running. No use building decoys, moving apartments, or whatever plan you’re formulating.

The third message arrives as I’m processing the second.

I’ve found you now. And I’m never letting you go.