Page 7 of The Hacker (Dominion Hall #5)

ELIAS

T he morning sun bled through the high windows of my suite, a watery gold that did nothing to warm the cold steel and glass around me. I hadn’t slept. Not a wink. My body was wired, my mind a jagged mess of blood and jasmine, the ghost of Vivienne Laveau haunting every corner of my skull.

I sat at my desk, the screens glowing with lines of code I hadn’t touched since I’d stumbled back to Dominion Hall in the small hours, my hands still tingling from the lives I’d ended.

The hackers were gone, their apartment a tomb, their data erased.

But the weight of what I’d done clung to me like damp Charleston heat, heavy and unrelenting.

I scrubbed a hand over my face, the stubble rough under my palm.

My cologne—once woodsy, sharp—was now overwhelmed by the faint tang of sweat, but it couldn’t drown out her scent, burned into my memory from that cramped ballet office.

Sweat and jasmine, raw and alive, like she’d left a piece of herself behind to torment me.

I’d killed for her last night, snapped three necks because they’d dared to touch her world, her data, her safety. And the worst part? I didn’t regret it. Not one fucking bit. The demon inside me was quiet now, sated, but I was unraveling, and she was the reason.

Dominion Hall was silent, the kind of quiet that felt like a held breath.

My brothers were probably still asleep, tangled in their beds with their women, their lives neatly slotted into place.

I envied them, hated them, for it. They’d found their anchors, their reasons to soften the edges of the darkness we’d all carried since our black-ops days.

Me? I was still the oak, the one who didn’t bend, didn’t break. Until Vivi. She was breaking me, and I was letting her, chasing the fall like a junkie chasing a hit.

I leaned back in my chair, the leather creaking under my weight, and stared at the screens.

The ballet company’s network was locked down, my temporary firewall holding like a fortress.

I’d checked it twice already, paranoia gnawing at me.

What if I’d missed something? What if another copy of her data—her address, her phone number, her life—was still out there, floating in some dark corner of the web?

My spiders were still crawling, sniffing for traces of the hackers’ network, but they’d come up empty.

The job was done. Clean. Except for the bodies. Except for the line I’d crossed.

My burner phone was gone, the SIM card crushed and the device ditched in a storm drain on my way back. My contact had handled the cleanup—bodies vanished, apartment scrubbed, no trace leading back to me or Dominion Hall.

I was untouchable, as always.

But I didn’t feel it. I felt exposed, raw, like Vivi had peeled back my skin and left me bleeding.

Her grin from the harbor last night—wicked, untamed, daring me to chase her—played on a loop in my head.

She’d paddled into shark-infested waters, laughing like the danger was a game, and I’d wanted to drag her out of that kayak.

I stood, pacing the room. The ache in my chest was a living thing, clawing at me. I’d killed for her, but it wasn’t enough. She was out there right now, probably already planning her next reckless stunt, her next leap into the void.

I believed in code, in systems, in puzzles that fit together with perfect precision.

Risk was fine—calculated, measured, controlled.

But Vivi? She was chaos, a storm that didn’t give a damn about my rules.

And fuck, I wanted to tame her, to claim her, to make her mine in a way that left no room for her to run. My cock shuddered at the thought.

My personal phone buzzed on the desk, snapping me out of the spiral.

A text from Teresa.

Network’s holding. You coming by today?

I stared at it, my thumb hovering over the screen. The ballet company. Vivi. I could say no, finish the upgrades remotely, cut her out of my life before she ruined me. But the demon laughed, low and mocking, and I knew I wouldn’t.

I typed back.

Yeah. I’ll be there.

Sent it before I could think twice.

The door to my suite creaked open, and Marcus’s voice cut through the silence, lazy but sharp. “You look like shit, brother. Rough night?”

I didn’t turn, my jaw tightening as I kept my eyes on the screens. “What do you want?”

He stepped inside, uninvited. I could feel his gaze, sizing me up, smelling the blood I’d washed away. “You took off like a bat out of hell last night. Thought I’d check if you were still breathing or if that mermaid drowned you.”

“Fuck off,” I said, but there was no heat in it. Marcus was a pain in the ass, but he was my brother, and he knew me too well. Too fucking well.

He leaned against the wall, crossing his arms, his dark eyes glinting with amusement. “She’s got you twisted, doesn’t she? Lady in Red.”

I didn’t answer, my hands curling into fists. He didn’t need to know how deep she’d cut, how her face alone was enough to make my control fray.

“Careful, Elias,” he said, his tone softening, almost serious. “Women like that? They don’t just break your heart. They take your whole damn world.”

I met his gaze, my voice low. “I don’t have a heart to break.”

He snorted, pushing off the wall. “Keep telling yourself that. Don’t do anything stupid.”

He left, the door clicking shut behind him, and I was alone again with the hum of my computers and the weight of his words.

Vivi was breaking me, and I was letting her.

Worse, I was craving it, wanting the chaos she brought. I sank back into my chair, pulling up the ballet’s network again, telling myself I was checking for vulnerabilities. But it was a lie. I was looking for her—her profile, her schedule, anything that would tell me where she’d be next.

The company had a performance this weekend, a private matinee at the Dock Street Theatre. She’d be there, dancing, her body carving music into motion, her fire on display for a room full of rich assholes who didn’t deserve her.

The thought made my skin crawl, the demon snarling at the idea of other eyes on her. I could go, watch her, make sure she was safe. The justification was thin, but I clung to it.

I pulled up the theatre’s security system, slipping into their cameras with a script that took seconds to run.

The feeds were grainy, but I mapped the layout—exits, blind spots, the stage where she’d spin and leap, untouchable but exposed.

I’d be there, in the shadows, where she wouldn’t see me.

Where I could keep her safe without her knowing.

The thought of her dancing, unaware of me watching, sent a shiver down my spine. It was wrong, invasive, but the demon didn’t care. It wanted her, and I was running out of reasons to fight it.

I closed the feeds, my hands shaking slightly, and stood, needing to move, to burn off the energy coiling in my veins. I grabbed my jacket and headed for the ballet company, the humid Charleston morning pressing against me as I stepped outside.

The city was waking up, the air thick with salt and the faint mull of marsh.

The drive to the Crescent Ballet was short, the streets quiet except for the occasional jogger or delivery truck.

I parked a block away, my SUV blending into the row of cars, and sat for a moment, gripping the wheel.

I didn’t need to be here. I could’ve done the upgrades from my suite, kept my distance, let her fade into the background.

But the demon wouldn’t let me. It wanted her close, wanted to see her, smell her, feel the crackle of her presence.

I stepped out, the morning sun warm on my shoulders, and walked to the converted warehouse that housed the ballet company.

The back door was propped open, a faint hum of piano scales drifting out.

I slipped inside, my boots silent on the scuffed Marley floor, and headed for the office.

Teresa was there, hunched over her desk, a big coffee mug steaming beside her.

She looked up as I entered, her eyes narrowing.

“You’re early,” she said, her voice wary. “Everything okay?”

“Network’s fine,” I said, keeping my tone clipped, professional. “Just finishing the upgrades.”

She nodded, but her gaze lingered, like she could see the cracks in my armor. “Vivi was asking about you.”

My pulse kicked up, but I kept my expression neutral. “Yeah? What’d she want?”

Teresa snorted, leaning back in her chair. “The usual. Dirt. Wanted to know your deal. I told her you’re a pain in the ass who’s married to his laptop.”

I smirked, despite myself. “Fair.”

“She’s trouble, Elias,” Teresa said, her voice softening. “You know that, right?”

I didn’t answer, my throat tightening. Trouble didn’t begin to cover it. Vivi was a fucking hurricane, and I was the idiot standing in her path, waiting for the wind to tear me apart.

I set up my laptop, diving into the network upgrades, but my focus was shit.

Every sound from the studio—laughter, footsteps, the thump of a dance bag—made my head snap up, hoping to catch a glimpse of her.

I hated it, hated how she’d turned me into this, a man who jumped at shadows because they might be her.

But when she finally appeared, it was worse than I’d imagined.

She slipped into the office, her red curls barely tamed in a messy bun, her leggings and hoodie doing nothing to hide the fire in her. She didn’t see me at first, her attention on Teresa, her voice light and teasing. “Any more hacker emergencies, or are we back to boring paperwork?”

My hands froze on the keyboard, my breath catching.

She was here, close enough to touch, her scent hitting me like a drug.

Jasmine and sweat, just like before, but now it was sharper, fresher, like she’d just stepped out of the shower, just for me.

The demon roared, demanding I stand, grab her, pull her against me until she understood what she was doing to me.

Teresa glanced at me, a warning in her eyes, before answering. “Network’s handled. Elias is just tying up loose ends.”

Vivi’s gaze snapped to me, and fuck, it was like a punch to the gut. Her green eyes sparked, a slow, wicked grin curving her lips.

“Cipher,” she said, her voice low, playful. “Didn’t expect you back so soon. Miss me?”

My throat clenched, but I forced a smirk, leaning back in my chair. “You wish, Red.”

She laughed, throaty and warm, and the sound sank into me like a hook. She leaned against the desk, too close, her hip brushing the edge of my laptop.

“Heard you’re some kind of tech wizard. Fixed our little glitch like it was nothing. That true?”

“Something like that,” I said, my voice rougher than I meant. Her presence was a live wire, crackling against my skin, and I hated how much I wanted to lean into it.

She tilted her head, her curls spilling loose, her eyes locked on mine. “You don’t strike me as the hero type, Cipher. So what’s in it for you? Saving damsels in distress isn’t exactly a hacker’s MO.”

I held her gaze, the demon snarling at the challenge in her voice. “Maybe I just like a challenge.”

Her grin widened, and for a moment, the world narrowed to her—her lips, her eyes, the way she seemed to see through every wall I’d built. “Good,” she said softly. “Because I’m the best kind.”

She pushed off the desk, sauntering out of the office, her hips swaying just enough to make my blood run hot.

I watched her go, my hands clenched under the desk, the demon screaming to follow her, to drag her back, to make her mine.

Teresa cleared her throat, breaking the spell, but I barely heard her. Vivi was gone, but she’d left a fire in her wake, and I was burning.

I forced my focus back to the upgrades, my fingers flying over the keys, but my mind was on her.

The performance was in two days. She’d be there, dancing, her fire on display for a room full of strangers.

I’d be there too, in the shadows, watching.

And when she inevitably did something reckless—because she would, it was who she was—I’d be there to catch her.

Or to break her. I wasn’t sure which anymore.

The demon whispered, its voice a low growl: She’s yours. Take her.

I shoved it down, but it was getting harder to fight. Vivienne Laveau was unraveling me, and for the first time in years, I didn’t want to stop her.