Page 28 of The Hacker (Dominion Hall #5)

VIVIENNE

T he door buzzed. A sound so small, so simple—just metal unlatching from metal—but it broke something in me.

I stood slowly, knees stiff from hours on the concrete bench, my whole body hollowed out and bruised from the inside. The guard didn’t say a word. Just nodded. I followed him down a hall that smelled like bleach and resignation and stepped out into the humid Charleston night like I was trespassing.

Then I saw him.

Elias.

He leaned against his SUV like he had all the time in the world, arms folded across his broad chest, that controlled kind of stillness that always made my pulse do strange things.

I stopped walking.

His eyes locked on mine. No smile. No fury. Just seeing me. Like he always had. Like the rest of the world could blur and he’d still pick me out of the static.

“I’m a mess,” I said, voice barely above a whisper.

“I’ve seen worse,” he replied, stepping forward. “But I’m not sure I’ve ever seen you like this.”

I laughed, but it cracked on the way out. “You mean broken?”

“I mean real.”

He stood in front of me now, close enough to feel the heat radiating off his chest. His hand hovered like he wanted to touch me but wasn’t sure if I’d shatter.

“I’m ready to face things,” I said. “Not just tonight. Everything. My mom, the fallout, the wreckage. I don’t want to be the girl who runs anymore. Life’s too fucking short.”

“I know,” he said quietly.

I met his eyes. “Jessa’s gone. And I don’t know what’s next. But I know I can’t keep jumping off rooftops and pretending that’s living.”

His hand finally touched me—just a brush of knuckles along my jaw. “You don’t have to keep falling just to prove you can survive the landing.”

Something unspooled in my chest.

I pressed my forehead to his. “Don’t rescue me,” I said, breath trembling. “Just stay.”

“I’m not here to rescue you,” he whispered. “I’m here to walk beside you. Or behind you. Or to just sit still until you’re ready to move.”

I wrapped my arms around his waist, and he held me—strong and silent, his breath steady at the top of my head.

After a long beat, I pulled back and glanced up at him, one brow lifting. “I know what you’re thinking.”

He smirked. “I’m always thinking.”

“You’re wondering if this emotional unraveling means I’ll take it out on you in bed.”

His grin widened, slow and wicked. “Only if you’re wondering it.”

“I’m not.”

“You sure?”

“I just got out of jail, Elias. My friend just died. My libido is on a spiritual retreat in another dimension.”

He gave a small, playful shrug. “I’m not only interested in your libido.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Liar.”

He leaned in, voice low and teasing. “I do like your brain.”

I snorted. “You’ve never once asked what books I like.”

“I know what books you like. You keep them stacked in crooked piles with half-finished coffee mugs. You dog-ear corners like a heathen and mutter to yourself when you read something beautiful. I like that about you.”

I stared at him, stunned.

“You’ve never been to my apartment,” I said slowly.

He didn’t even blink. “Doesn’t mean I haven’t seen it.”

My eyes narrowed. “Excuse me?”

He smiled, just a hint of wicked behind it. “Security footage. You live above a bar with external cameras and a very hackable network.”

“That is so creepy.”

“It’s protective,” he countered, stepping closer. “I like knowing where you are. That you made it home. That you fell asleep on your sofa with a book in your lap and a candle still burning.”

I blinked. “You’ve watched me sleep?”

He tilted his head, unapologetic. “I’ve watched over you. There's a difference.”

My heart should’ve objected. It should’ve pulled the emergency brake. Instead, it kicked once, hard and fast.

“Okay,” I said finally. “That was hot.”

“I know.”

We drove in silence, hand brushing hand on the center console. When he parked in front of Liquid Courage, I hesitated.

“You sure you’re up for this?” he asked.

“No,” I said honestly. “But I’m doing it anyway.”

We climbed the stairs to my apartment. My key slipped once in the lock, but I got it on the second try.

The door creaked open to the sound of soft breathing.

Emmaline was curled on the sofa, a thin blanket draped over her shoulders. Her eyes blinked open as I stepped inside.

“Vivi?”

“Yeah.”

She sat up quickly, blinking through sleep. “You okay?”

I nodded. “This is Elias. I asked him to come with me.”

She glanced at him, something unreadable passing across her face, then stood.

“I waited all day,” she said, voice still groggy.

“I know.”

“I heard about what happened to Jessa, and that you were in jail. I thought about calling the governor.”

“I think Elias beat you to it.”

He held up both palms. “Technically, I only threatened the police chief.”

A flicker of a smile crossed Emmaline’s lips. Then she turned serious. “Did you call her?”

“Yeah.”

“And?”

“She thought I was taller,” I whispered. “She doesn’t remember me.”

Emmaline’s face crumpled just a little, then she reached for my hand.

Elias stepped back, giving us space. He didn’t speak. Just watched. Like a soldier standing guard outside a cathedral.

I sat down beside Emmaline, suddenly so tired I could barely sit upright.

“She said she doesn’t want to go,” I said. “She knows they’re kicking her out. Even if she doesn’t remember when.”

“I tried to buy us time,” Emmaline whispered. “But they want the full balance. In cash. No payment plans. They say we’ll just continue to be behind with no hope of catching up.”

I nodded.

“Do you have a plan?” she asked.

“I don’t,” I said honestly. “But I think I’m done pretending I don’t need help.”

Emmaline stared at me. “Does that mean?—”

“It means I’m not too proud to ask Elias for a loan. Or maybe a miracle. Or maybe just a nap before I fall apart again.”

Elias stepped forward. “You don’t have to ask. You just have to let me.”

The apartment was too small for all this grief, but somehow, in that moment, it didn’t feel so crushing.

It felt like maybe something was beginning to shift. And I let myself hope that it might shift in our favor.

Emmaline's gaze cut to him, sharp and assessing. “Do you have the money?”

Elias didn’t flinch. “Yes.”

Just like that. No hesitation, no caveats. Just a quiet truth that filled the room like thunder.

Her brows lifted. “I don’t mean a few hundred bucks. I mean thousands.”

He gave a small nod. “That won’t be a problem.”

She stared, blinking slowly, like she couldn’t quite compute that kind of answer. “Wait. Who are you exactly?”

“My brothers and I own Dominion Hall,” he said simply. “And a few other things. Namely, Dominion Defense Corporation. The short version is that I have enough money to fix this. And I want to.”

Emmaline blinked again, then turned to me. “This is the guy?”

“This is the guy,” I said softly.

Elias’s voice gentled. “I’m not offering this to make things complicated. I’m offering because you’re Vivi’s family. And because this shouldn’t fall on either of you alone.”

Emmaline’s mouth pressed into a line. “What’s the catch?”

“There isn’t one,” Elias said. “But I do have an idea. If it’s too much, say so. No hard feelings.”

She crossed her arms but said nothing.

Elias glanced at me, then back at her. “What if we moved her here? Your mom. To Charleston. I’ll cover the transport, the care, the transition into one of the best memory care centers in the state—less than ten minutes from here. Private suite, full staff, all of it.”

Emmaline sucked in a sharp breath. “That kind of care costs?—”

“I know what it costs. I already had my people run numbers.”

I looked up at him. “You did?”

He shrugged. “I like having a plan.”

“But Emmaline and her family are in Dallas,” I said. “They can’t just uproot?—”

“I was getting to that,” he said calmly. “I’ll move your whole family here if that’s what you want. I’ll buy a house. Help your husband start a new church or partner with one that fits your values. Provide anything he needs to establish roots. Whatever you need.”

Emmaline blinked, speechless.

Then she asked quietly, “Are you religious?”

“No,” Elias said. “But I believe in faith. And I believe in making sure people like you have the freedom to live it.”

There was a long silence.

She looked between us, then tilted her head. “So what is this? Some kind of long-game seduction?”

“Em,” I warned, but Elias just smiled.

“No seduction necessary,” he said. “Vivi already said yes to something bigger than a night. And I’m not letting go.”

I turned toward him slowly. “I did?”

He raised a brow. “Didn’t you?”

I swallowed. My pulse was skittering against my ribs. “Yeah. I guess I did.”

“I’m not in this for the thrill,” he said. “I’m in it for you. Whatever that looks like. Mess and all.”

Emmaline narrowed her eyes. “Vivi, is this a fling you’re going to regret? Or is this one of those all-in, no-return kinds of things?”

I looked over at Elias, and for once, I didn’t feel uncertain.

“I think I’ve been falling for him since the day I saw him huddled over Teresa’s computer in the Charleston Crescent Ballet Company’s office,” I said.

Elias smirked. “Same. That day was it for me.”

“And I think,” I added, “I’m finally ready to stop pretending I don’t want more.”

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward. It was solid. Grounded. Like something real had settled into the cracks between us.

Emmaline sank slowly onto the sofa. “Okay,” she said finally, voice soft. “I’ll have to talk to my husband, of course, but okay. We’ve been dreaming of a chance to start fresh. We didn’t know how it would come about.”

She wasn’t saying she trusted Elias. Not yet. But she was saying she trusted me.

And that meant everything.

I sank down beside her, our shoulders touching. Elias stayed standing, a quiet presence with promise in his posture.

There were still hard conversations to have. Legal hoops. Logistics. Maybe some disbelief when our mom saw a new city outside her window.

But for the first time in a long time, I believed something could be different.