“You want some food while I do?”
“Please. I’m hungry.”
“Breakfast burritos it is then.”
For the next half an hour, River tells me about Mika, what he said, and the bullet that sounded out when they got into the truck. Meanwhile, I sift through folders, and from the access I now have to his laptop, I find an open browser tab that leads me to a personal email file and beyond.
“So, we have to assume Mika is dead?” I ask as River puts a steaming-hot burrito with eggs, peppers, onions, avocado, and salsa inside in front of me.
River leans against the counter and takes a bite of his food as he nods. “That’s my assumption.”
I take a bite of my own burrito and realize I don’t feel sad. “He tried to lead Chase to me. I don’t ever want to wish ill on anybody, but he chose this path.”
“Do I need to worry about you?” he asks.
“What do you mean?”
He points to the laptop. “Mika ended up dead because of work he picked up on the dark web. You’re in this mess because of the same. I’m probably some kind of hypocrite for saying this, because you know what I do. But is there an option of work for you that doesn’t put you in harm’s way in the future? Because I kinda like you alive, Wren.”
The words hit me in a way that reinforces thoughts I’ve already been having. “Once this is all over, I want to sit somewhere quiet. Get some rest. Eat good food. Get back into the habit of hitting the gym because my routine has been a mess for the last month. Maybe get a dog I can walk every morning to get outside. Ride Blaze, if you’ll let me. Then, get a blank piece of paper and plot out what the rest of my life looks like. But it doesn’t look like this.” I gesture at my laptop. “I mean, it involves technology. That’s my skill. But something different. Maybe build something people need.”
River smiles softly. “You deserve a life that isn’t anxiety-filled, Wren. And I’ve got your back. Emotionally. Financially. Whatever you need.”
His eyes are so sincere as he speaks that it overwhelms me. Tears sting my eyes. “Don’t be saying nice things to me.”
River chuckles at that, low and gruff. “You need to get over your aversion to being told sweet things. Not in my nature to not say ‘em.”
I look at my screen, which now mirrors Chase’s laptop, and I see a folder.
Wren simulation
I click on it, and there are dozens of subdirectories.
A whooshing sound vibrates in my ears as I open the first file titledSimulation Chatlogand gasp.
Using AI, he’s createdme.
Well, a version of me.
Dorian:Good morning, Wren. Sleep ok?
Wren:Barely. Spent the night thinking about you.
Dorian:yeah? What about me?
Wren:The way you touched me and made me come the last time we were together.
Dorian:Wish you could see how I’m smiling right now, babe.
Wren:… and how you said you’d fix everything. That you’d protect me.
Dorian:I will. I am. You just don’t see it yet.
Wren:What if I never do?
Dorian:Then I’ll make you.
The timestamps date back three years.
