Page 11 of The Hacker (Dominion Hall #5)

ELIAS

T he dive bar’s neon buzzed like a dying insect, casting a sickly red glow over Vivi’s skin as she leaned against the counter, her tank top clinging to her curves.

Her green eyes locked on mine, sharp and defiant, daring me to cross the line I’d been toeing since the moment I saw her.

My blood roared, the demon inside me clawing at its cage, hungry for her—her heat, her chaos, her fucking soul.

She was playing with fire like she was born to burn me alive.

I stood inside the door, arms crossed, every muscle coiled tight.

The air was thick with old beer and bourbon, the jukebox whining some country ballad that grated on my nerves.

A few drunks slouched at tables, too far gone to care about the storm brewing between us.

Vivi’s lips curved, that wicked grin that made my control fray like cheap rope.

She’d tugged me close, her fingers grazing my jeans, her breath hot against my ear, and now she was waiting, testing, pushing me to snap.

“You came,” she said, voice low, a velvet blade slicing through the noise.

“You ran,” I shot back, my voice rough, barely masking the need clawing at my throat.

“I wanted you to follow.”

Her words hit like a match to gasoline. She reached for me again, her fingers hooking into my waistband, pulling me forward until there was no space left, just her heat against my chest, her scent flooding my senses.

I could feel her pulse, fast and wild, under my thumb as I gripped her hip, bruising, possessive.

The demon roared, and I was done fighting it.

“You think you can play me, Red?” I rasped, my mouth brushing her ear, my voice a growl. “Think you can dance on bridges and in bars and I’ll just watch?”

Her laugh was throaty, a sound that sank into my bones. “I’m not dancing, Cipher. I’m daring you.”

I tightened my grip, pulling her closer, her body molding to mine like she was made for it. “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”

“Then show me,” she whispered, lips grazing my jaw, her breath a spark that lit every nerve on fire.

The bartender cleared his throat, breaking the spell. “One whiskey, neat. One Coke,” he said, sliding the drinks across the counter. Vivi didn’t move, didn’t look away, her eyes burning into mine like she could see the demon and wanted to fuck it raw.

I let go of her, just enough to grab the whiskey and down it in one swallow, the burn grounding me for a split second. She took the Coke, sipping it slowly, her lips wrapping around the straw in a way that made my jeans feel too tight. She knew what she was doing, and I hated how much I loved it.

“Pick a corner,” I said, voice low, nodding toward the bar’s shadows. “Somewhere no one’s watching.”

She raised an eyebrow, that grin creeping back. “Bossy.”

“Now,” I said, the word a command, a plea, a fucking prayer.

She sauntered toward a booth in the back, hips swaying like she was walking a tightrope over my sanity.

I followed, the demon pacing, my eyes on her like she was the only thing in the room.

The booth was tucked against a wall, the vinyl cracked, the table sticky with years of spilled drinks.

She slid in, one leg curled under her, and leaned back, sipping her Coke like we were on a goddamn date.

I sat across from her, elbows on the table, hands fisted to keep from reaching for her. “Every asshole with a phone is posting about you,” I said, voice tight. “The bridge. The ballerina. You’re not invisible anymore.”

She shrugged, unbothered, her curls spilling over one shoulder. “Let them talk. I don’t live for their rules.”

“You live for the rush,” I said, leaning forward, my voice dropping. “But you’re not the only one who feels it. You climb bridges, you kayak at night, you push me—and someone’s gonna push back. Someone who doesn’t give a fuck about your smile.”

Her eyes flickered, just a hint of something—fear, maybe, or recognition—but she buried it fast. “You worried about me, Cipher? Or just mad I’m not locked in your tower yet?”

I smirked, despite the storm in my chest. “You’d burn my tower down, Red.”

“Damn right,” she said, leaning closer, her breath warm against my lips. “But you’d love the flames.”

The air crackled, the space between us a live wire. I wanted to grab her, drag her across the table, kiss her until she forgot her own name. But the bar was too public, too exposed, and the demon wanted her alone, where I could take my time, where I could make her mine without eyes on us.

A crash shattered the moment—a bottle hitting the floor, followed by a slurred shout.

I turned, instincts kicking in, my hand twitching toward the knife in my boot.

Two drunks were squaring off near the bar, one with a broken bottle, the other swinging a chair.

The bartender yelled, but it was too late.

The crowd surged, some cheering, some scrambling for the door, and chaos erupted like a spark in dry grass.

Vivi’s laugh cut through the noise, bright and reckless. “Now this is my kind of night.”

I grabbed her wrist, pulling her out of the booth. “We’re leaving.”

She yanked free, eyes gleaming. “Not yet. I want to see how this plays out.”

“Vivi,” I growled, but she was already moving, slipping through the crowd like she was born for mayhem.

The demon roared, and I followed, shoving past a guy who smelled like cheap vodka.

The drunks were grappling now, blood on the floor, the bottle’s jagged edge catching the neon light.

Vivi stood too close, her head tilted, like she was studying a fucking painting.

I caught her arm, spinning her toward me. “You don’t get to die in a bar fight.”

“Who said anything about dying?” she said, grinning. “I’m just living.”

A fist swung wide, missing its target and nearly clipping her.

I pulled her back, my body shielding hers, and threw a punch that dropped the guy cold.

The crowd roared, the fight spreading like wildfire, bottles shattering, tables overturning.

Vivi’s laugh was a beacon, pulling me through the chaos, and I realized she was moving toward the back door, her steps deliberate, like she’d planned this.

I followed, shoving a guy out of my way, my eyes never leaving her.

The back door led to an alley, the air thick with dumpster rot and salt from the nearby harbor.

Vivi stepped out, her tank top glowing under a flickering streetlamp, her curls a wild halo.

She turned, leaning against the brick wall, her chest heaving, her grin pure trouble.

“You’re insane,” I said, slamming the door shut behind me, the bar’s noise muffled now. My hands were shaking, not from the fight but from her, from the need burning through me like a fever.

“Says the guy who climbed a bridge for me,” she said, stepping closer, her fingers trailing down my chest, leaving fire in their wake. “You’re not as cold as you think, Cipher.”

I grabbed her wrists, pinning them above her head against the wall, my body pressing into hers. “You don’t know what I am,” I snarled, my mouth inches from hers, her heat seeping into me. “You don’t know what I’ve done for you.”

Her eyes searched mine, fearless, hungry. “Then tell me.”

I kissed her, hard and desperate, my mouth claiming hers like I could pour every ounce of my obsession into her.

She kissed me back, fierce and unyielding, her tongue a spark that set me ablaze.

Her wrists twisted in my grip, not to escape but to pull me closer, her nails digging into my skin.

The demon roared, and I let it, my hands sliding to her hips, lifting her until her legs wrapped around me, her body a perfect fit against mine.

“You’re mine,” I growled against her lips, the words a vow, a curse. “No more bridges. No more bars. Just me.”

She bit my lip, hard enough to draw blood, and laughed, the sound vibrating through me. “You think you can cage me, Elias? Try it.”

I spun us, pressing her harder against the wall, my hands tearing at her tank top, the fabric ripping under my fingers.

Her skin was hot, smooth, a canvas I wanted to mark, to claim.

She arched into me, her breath ragged, her hands fisting in my hair, pulling me down to her throat.

I bit her, not gently, tasting salt and jasmine, her moan a sound I’d kill for again.

“Fuck, Vivi,” I rasped, my hands sliding under her shorts, finding her wet, ready, her heat driving me to the edge. “You’re gonna ruin me.”

“Good,” she whispered, her voice a blade, her legs tightening around me. “I want you ruined.”

I didn’t think, didn’t care about the alley, the bar, the world.

I shoved her shorts down, my jeans following, the cool brick against my palms as I lifted her again.

She was fire, liquid and untamed, and when I thrust into her, it was like diving into a storm.

Her nails raked my back, her moans loud enough to wake the dead, and I didn’t stop, couldn’t stop.

Every thrust was a claim, every gasp a surrender, our bodies slamming together like we were trying to break each other.

“Harder,” she demanded, her voice raw, her eyes locked on mine, green and blazing.

I gave her what she wanted, my hips driving into her, the wall shaking with the force of us.

The alley was a blur, the harbor’s pulse a distant echo, the world reduced to her—her heat, her taste, her fucking defiance.

“You’re mine,” I said again, my voice breaking, my hands gripping her thighs, bruising her skin. “Say it.”

She laughed, wild and unhinged, her head falling back. “Make me.”

I kissed her, swallowing her laugh, my tongue claiming every inch of her mouth.

She clenched around me, her body trembling, and I felt it—the edge, the fall, the moment she broke.

Her moan was a scream, her nails drawing blood, and I followed her, my release a roar that tore through me, leaving me raw, exposed, hers.

We stayed there, panting, her legs still wrapped around me, her forehead against mine. The alley was quiet now, the bar’s chaos a distant hum, the streetlamp flickering like it was giving up. Her breath was warm against my lips, her eyes half-closed, sated but still dangerous.

“You’re trouble,” I said, voice hoarse, my hands still on her, unwilling to let go.

“You love it,” she whispered, her lips brushing mine, soft now, almost tender.

I didn’t answer, didn’t need to. She was right, and we both knew it. I’d killed for her, chased her, fucked her in an alley like a man possessed, and I’d do it again. The demon was quiet, but it wasn’t gone. It was waiting, watching, ready to rage if anyone tried to take her from me.

I set her down, steadying her as she adjusted her shorts, her tank top hanging in tatters. She laughed, low and warm, and pulled my jacket over her shoulders, the fabric swallowing her frame. “You owe me a shirt,” she said, smirking.

“I owe you nothing,” I said, but my voice was softer now, the edge dulled by her. I grabbed her hand, pulling her toward the SUV parked at the alley’s mouth. “Let’s go.”

“Where?” she asked, falling into step beside me, her fingers lacing with mine like it was natural, like we hadn’t just fucked each other senseless against a wall.

“My place,” I said, opening the passenger door. “No bars, no bridges. Just you and me.”

She slid inside, her grin back, sharp and reckless. “You think you can keep me, Cipher?”

I leaned in, my lips brushing her ear, my voice a low growl. “I already have.”

I slammed the door, rounded the hood, and got behind the wheel.

The engine roared, the city’s neon fading as we drove toward Dominion Hall.

My phone buzzed, another alert from my scripts, but I ignored it.

The hackers were gone, the network secure, but Vivi was the real threat—the glitch I couldn’t fix, the storm I didn’t want to.

I’d built my life on control, on systems, on knowing every outcome.

But her? She was chaos, and I was addicted.

The road stretched out, Charleston’s pulse a low hum in my veins.

Vivi leaned back, her legs propped on the dash, my jacket slipping off one shoulder.

She was mine, for now, and I’d tear the world apart to keep her.

The demon whispered, sated but never satisfied, and I let it.

Because Vivienne Laveau wasn’t just trouble—she was my apocalypse, and I was ready to burn.