They'll kill me.
Not the first person who wanted me dead.
This is different.
A sinking reality hits my gut. I stare at the blinking cursor before I start another search.
The Underworld.
For a moment, the screen stays blank. Then one by one, words crawl across the monitor. Then everything flashes fast.
Access Denied.
You shouldn't be here.
Leave now.
The system freezes. My cursor won't move. The fans inside my computer whir louder until the sound rises into a whine. Lines of red code flood the screen, looping phrases I can't decipher fast enough.
Then everything goes black.
A chill sweeps through me. I shiver, mumbling, "What the fuck?" and clicking the power button, but nothing happens.
"What the fuck!" I fume louder, then shove my chair back, and rise.
My pulse hammers between my ears. The black monitor never flickers to life, and I stare at my reflection with new dread.
Whoever wrote that line of code, "you shouldn't be here," wasn't bluffing. Now, someone knows I was looking.
I shove the chair away and press my palms to my temples, fighting a headache. The silence in my apartment gnaws at me. I contemplate trying to sleep, but my phone buzzes on the desk.
Finn: Dinner. Pub. 7 p.m. Brenna and I haven't seen you in days.
I'm about to reply when another one comes in.
Finn: Don't make me send her to drag you to dinner.
I crack a smile. The best thing that ever happened to me was when Finn and Brenna took me in as their own. They're the most important people in my life and the only people I consider my parents.
Me: On my way.
I slide my arms into a jacket, my feet into sneakers, and make my way out of the building. Even though the pavement is wet, there are plenty of people walking around. It takes ten minutes to get to O'Malley's.
It's warm inside, and the familiarity is comforting. Beer, fish and chips, and burgers fill the air. I inhale deeply and glance past the long wooden bar that always gets restored whenever Nora decides to remodel.
Several booths in, I spot Finn and Brenna. I push past mostly people I know, nodding as I go.
Finn teases, "Look who remembered to come eat with us."
"Sorry. Been busy," I claim and slide into the booth across from them.
Brenna pats my hand and beams, "Don't let him guilt you. I keep telling him you have a life outside of us. What's new?"
I hung out with an Abruzzo I wanted to fuck last night, and then I had a Petrov give me orders.
I try to ignore my guilt. "Just normal stuff?"
Finn signals the bartender, and within seconds, three pints hit the table. He says, "Tell him about the rooster."
