The front is nothing but dusty shelves, broken keyboards, and a neon sign that only flickers to life when it wants to.
But the backroom?
That’s where the empire begins.
It’s climate-controlled and windowless, fortified with lead-lined walls and two redundant, off-grid power sources. There’s a row of racks holding towers, super servers built from the bones of military-grade blacksite tech I got through a contact in Belarus. Some of it fell off a truck. Some of it I pulled from the darknet. And some… just walked into my life.
I don’t just hack.
I erase.
Rebuild.
Rewrite.
This isn’t just a setup.
It’s a throne.
But even kings need a court.
One month before the wedding…
Carlos hands me a job. Another poor schmuck who forgot to pay his dues. A guy who just opened a corner store in a rundown part of Queens. Word is he’s maxed out five credit cards just trying to keepthe lights on.
It’s extortion. Mafia-style. Wrapped in ritual, dressed up like tradition. But it’s still extortion. And for what? A few hundred bucks a month? Fear?
Carlos doesn’t care. A rule is a rule.
Leo Barone slides into the passenger seat beside me, tapping ash out the window before we’ve even pulled out. His mouth is already moving.
"You believe this guy?" he grumbles. "Kid’s barely twenty-five. Wife just had a baby. I saw the baby, freaking adorable. You’d think we’d let him breathe for a second."
I grunt in agreement, turning onto the Belt Parkway. "Carlos doesn’t see babies. Just future leverage."
Leo snorts. "Yeah, well, the old man’s stuck in the eighties. Extort the mom-and-pop shop, beat up the junkie, throw a match through a window if someone’s late. Maybe if we cracked a fucking laptop once in a while, we wouldn’t be bleeding money to the feds and the Venezuelans."
I glance at him. That’s not something most guys say out loud.
"You ever think about getting out?" I ask.
Leo leans back, dragging his knuckles along his stubble. "All the time. But Carlos owns my file. My prints. My daughter’s name."
That gets my attention.
"You got a kid?"
"Four years old. Stella. Sweetest damn thing in the world." His voice shifts into less bravado and more ache. "You ever notice guys like us don’t usually get to stay dads? We just get used against them."
I don’t say anything for a beat. Then I pull the car to the curb, cutting the engine but leaving the keys in.
He looks at me warily. "What, we walking from here?"
"No," I say. "But I’ve got a different job in mind."
He tilts his head. "Yeah?"
"You’re good with code, right?"
