Page 17 of Tech Prince Troubles (Runaway Prince Hotel #6)

Chapter Seventeen

ADRI

what the reboot?

T he image of pushing Sam against his office door—his beaming smile giving me permission, kissing him senseless—nestled itself in my buzzing, jittery system when I left his office. Not even the baristas knowing what we’d been doing could bring down my mood.

I wasn’t sure about Sam’s mood, though. Not because of the kiss—he seemed more than happy about that—but because I had to disappoint him about fixing the registers. All my scans pointed to a grounding system fault, making unplugging the machines the only solution to avoid more damage at this point.

Sam said it was fine, that they’d finish out the shift and close for the day, but his expression told me otherwise. We’d exchanged numbers—which felt more intimate than work-related—and I promised him I’d keep him updated.

He promised not to send me dubious emojis to distract me from getting his café back to work.

It was a joke; his wink made that obvious.

But now I wanted him sending me emojis, even if I wouldn’t understand the meaning.

His pings would bring me back to feeling his heartbeat as he held me close.

The way he tilted his head, the scruff on his face against my neck as he peppered my jawline with kisses…

It might keep me from worrying. About who was behind all this, gathering enough evidence to present to Rick, and revealing my location when I performed the necessary grounding system check.

At least the café’s logs didn’t seem tampered with.

As I entered the hub, the two day-shifters I’d met earlier greeted me with friendly waves, but it surprised me to see Jim there, typing away at his desk. He didn’t look up, but there was a hitch in the rhythmic clack of his keyboard, as if my presence made him nervous.

My chair creaked as I sat and connected to the server. “You’re staying late, too?” Jim wasn’t marked as active, but one scheduled day-shifter was noted as absent.

He still didn’t raise his head. “Working an extra shift.”

His behavior was getting to me. What was his problem with me?

I pulled up the grounding maintenance scans—NiraTech’s automated one and the basic scan Rick had executed. Not to check the readings—I already knew they were almost identical. No, I needed to dive deeper and compare the coding.

Working with off-server copies saved on shielding and rerouting, even if it took longer.

Every adult Niren, whether biomancer or tech mage, knew the ins and outs of our security system, Min-Tess—as Primary High Energy—above all.

The longer NiraTech and, by extension, my family postponed locking on to my ID, the better.

It took me an hour to find that same random j at the end of a line in the basic scan, but not the automated one.

The proof that someone had tampered with it.

I let out a breath and sat back for a moment.

Countless wasted days chasing a source of the glitches that didn’t exist, because we’d been working on faked readings.

I should have run a fresh scan from the beginning.

But there’d been no reason to doubt the scan’s authenticity.

Even standard NiraTech packages included protection against off-site hacking, and the hotel’s system wasn’t standard.

If that were the case, they wouldn’t have hired someone with Rick’s qualifications.

Only someone with server access could have pulled it off.

I needed to find that person. Now. We’d lost enough time.

I felt bad for immediately suspecting Jim because he didn’t like me. Less so when I sneaked a glance in his direction. He wasn’t even here. Where was he? How had I missed him leaving?

I didn’t have time to worry about that. Taking deep breaths, I entered my ID into the NiraTech systems and set up a full grounding system maintenance check—expedited instead of the twenty-four-hour version—including the high-level tamper tracer I’d built as my final apprenticeship project.

My system pushed images of Sam to the surface. I swallowed. If only we could have more time together.

Next, I set up a net of tracers around the west wing, from ballroom to fourth floor.

It seemed excessive, but I wanted to solve this before Rick came in, before more damage was done.

It made up for the hours of cross-checking glitches, tampered logs, and server access—without alerting whoever was behind this mess.

I kept at it until my system slowed to a crawl, forcing me to reach for the nearest socket for a quick recharge. Sparks stung across my fingers. I shook out my hand and glared at it before trying another one. The energy flow was sluggish and less fulfilling, but at least it didn’t zap me.

With every check, every cross-reference, a pattern emerged. According to Rick, the problems started before I arrived, but everything pointed to an increase of glitches after my arrival. Why? My stay had been very last-minute, so this couldn’t be about me.

But… there were others like me. Zagreus, for one. The person guarded by the fox and the elk. And who was that prince I’d met at Frank’s engagement?

How many of us runaway royals were here? And why target the west wing?

A message from Sam popped up, but as I opened it, a ping from the system took its place. Someone was in the ballroom. I checked the cameras Rick had reconnected a few days ago, but they showed nothing but white noise. What the Reboot?

Turning off my screen, I rose. Jim’s desk was still empty. “How long has Jim been gone?” I asked the others.

They both shrugged.

“He didn’t log anything,” the human with long blond hair said.

“Thank you. I’m going to run some scans.” Perhaps I wasn’t wrong to suspect him.

“Good luck,” the human called after me as I left and took the fastest route to the west wing.

The ballroom doors were locked when I arrived, winded from insufficient air input. Inside, I detected burned static and melting insulation, but there was no one there.

The chandeliers that had scattered beautiful rainbow colors across the floor now flickered erratically—the LEDs that hadn’t faded out. I approached the access panel on the other side of the room and pulled it open. The cables weren’t connected, and the main switch was turned off.

I scanned every inch of that distribution panel, but there was nothing in there that could have caused this. My fingers brushed the wall as I closed the panel.

A subtle ripple of power jumped against my skin, coming alive—buzzing and stuttering—as I followed it toward the outer wall, where it surged and sank into my system.

One chandelier went dark. I backed away, my limp hand tingling and trembling against my side, and took deep breaths as the buzzing energy ran through my system.

Riley would be devastated.

Even from this distance, the outer wall vibrated with energy, bursting to connect. If a wall contained this much energy, the grounding system was failing.

Another chandelier went dark. I ran for the door. There was no time to lose.

“What’s going on?”

Layla stood in the doorway with a group of humans who stared at the remaining flickering chandelier with open mouths.

“Sabotage.”

She narrowed her eyes at me, but before I could explain, another alert went off.

“I’ll explain later,” I said as I ran past them and back to the hub.

Someone was messing with my scan. Two more pings went off before I reached the hub.

One of them was my family pinging me. The other a notification that the grounding system check had finished.

I backed it up to my internal system and opened the door.

Jim glanced over his shoulder from my desk with narrowed eyes, typing frantically. Tension filled the air as the door slammed closed behind me, locking us in with a humming snap.

“What are you doing at my desk?” I asked to distract him as I unlocked it—keeping my relief from showing when it worked. And where were the day-shifters? I should have taken the time to explain what was going on to Layla.

Jim hit the keyboard in frustration and kicked my chair at me as he rose, a furious expression on his face. “Of course the goddamn prince would figure it out.”

I froze. He knew I was royalty?

“How the hell do you think you can just play at being poor, play at being normal people? Like you know what it is to struggle, to scrape by, to beg?” he spat. “You poor royals, with all your wealth and your power.”

I was speechless. From day one, I’d sensed he didn’t like me, but this went much deeper.

He hated me. Truly hated me. Nothing I said would disprove his point.

I was wealthy—even my casual outfits weren’t cheap, by human standards.

And while I wasn’t trying to play at being poor, I was here trying on a normal life.

But what did he think he’d gain by sabotaging the renovation?

I didn’t dare turn my back on him when the door clicked open mid-rant.

He railed at royals looking down on normal people like his family.

“They take and take and take. Putting us on the streets. Seizing our possessions to build their fancy, over-the-top, upgraded-to-the-ninth rental opportunities, while spoiled little princes like you just pop into this hotel whenever they like and steal our jobs like it’s a game. ”

I felt for him, for his family. He shouldn’t have had to suffer like that. “I’m sorry,” I tried, though I didn’t know how to help him.

“His highness is sorry,” Jim spat, disdain dripping from his words. “As if anyone cares what a Niren prince thinks.”

Someone gasped behind me. I dared a quick glance. Sam stood in the doorway, his mouth hanging open, a confused expression in his eyes.

My stomach dropped. “I…”

Jim cackled. “Oh, he didn’t tell you? Of course he didn’t. He thought he could just pretend.”

Frazzled, I searched for the right words to explain I hadn't meant to hide who I was from Sam.

The way he looked at me, his eyes wide, questioning, made me feel exposed, raw.

My system faltered, my energy stuttered, and I had trouble processing, coping.

I sagged against the wall and grabbed for the nearest socket for support.

Energy had always been a constant in my life.

Instead of bringing comfort, it zapped me and knocked me off balance. I hit the edge of the chair with a dull thud . The edges of my vision faded out for a moment.

Jim grinned as he stalked toward me.

Fear gripped me.

But then Sam placed himself between me and Jim.

“What the hell did you do?”

That wasn’t Sam’s voice. It was Layla. I recognized her pants.

“Put him in my office. Get Andrea to check him out and have someone call Rick.”

“And leave you alone?” Sam asked as he kneeled next to me.

The concern in his face and the way he straightened my skirt over my tapered legs touched me—as if he knew I wouldn’t want attention drawn to being different.

Layla snorted. “I can handle him. You make sure Adri’s okay.”

Sam didn’t say anything as he picked me up and carried me down the corridor, across the lobby, and into Layla’s office. He lowered me gently onto a couch and kissed my forehead.

And then he left.