“Or, she was sent by our competition to destroy me.” David watched her like she was both nemesis and muse.
Lena grinned. “Join the club.”
He looked down again, the glow from the screen gilding his long lashes in soft light. Stillness laced through the room—quiet, fragile—as though he was considering something larger than the current conversation.
“You ever wonder,” he said lowly, “why I—why I’m able to fix things so fast?”
There was something aching in his voice that made Lena scoot a little closer. Yes. She had wanted to ask, but didn’t want to pry.
Instead, she said, “Yeah. But I figured it was just extreme nerd genius. Like, stupid-level IQ combined with zero social life.”
That won her a huff of something—a laugh? Annoyance? Either way, she’d take it.
Without answering, David reached down and tugged an old, battered laptop out from under the desk. The casing was scratched, sticker-covered, clearly dead weight. It had crashed during the lightning storm last week and would no longer power on.
He opened the lid and laid his hand flat on the keyboard.
Lena’s senses sparked. A hum at the periphery of hearing. An awareness snaked up her spine like a magnetic tide. The hairson her arms rose even as her brain registered the shift. With a muffled whir, the laptop powered on. No fanfare. No dramatic spark. Just… alive again.
David’s hand stayed resting on the plastic like he was communing with something sacred. He flicked a glance at her before returning his attention to the laptop. “Watch the screen.”
Lena’s jaw dropped as the mouse moved across the screen by itself, opening windows and files, closing them, moving to another, all in the blink of an eye.
“I’m not just good with computers,” he said, his voice raw now, not embarrassed so much as resigned. “I talk to them. Directly. As long as I’m touching a network-connected device, I can reach the entire web. Access anything connected. Influence it. Manipulate it. Rewrite code. Alter electrical paths. All with my mind and a touch.”
She stared at him. Something inside her shifted—detached from logic. Her brain bounced between confusion and understanding, awe and disbelief. What he described shouldn’t exist, but she’d seen it herself. Whateveritwas.
Genetic mutation. Psychic evolution. Magic.
Or maybe it was just David. Extraordinary. Imperturbable. Half-wrapped in circuitry and secrets. He’d told her he was a tech god. Maybe it hadn’t been a joke after all.
Lena realized he was waiting for her reaction, muscles tense, eyes locked on the screen, avoiding hers. She reached over and tapped his wrist, silently asking for his attention. “You’re even weirder than I thought, Genius.”
He blinked and smiled, a breath of warmth laced with exhaustion. “Yeah. You still want me on your crisis team?”
Lena’s heart ached in the way it always did when something mattered. “Only if you have a friends-and-family discount,” she teased, tilting her head. “I don’t think I can afford your rack rate. And you must provide caffeine.”
David pulled his hand off the tablet, and the life drained from him like a slow leak in a balloon. His shoulders slumped. Eyes dulled. Spent.
“Is it always like that?” she asked, quieter now. Reverent.
He nodded. “Usually worse.” He rubbed his temples. “Most of the time, I crash hard after using my talent. Migraines. Nausea. Delirium on occasion. A few minutes in-network generally demands hours of sleep. It’s why I avoid using it unless absolutely necessary.”
Lena’s throat tightened, but before she could speak again, he tilted his head, confusion creasing his forehead.
“Except after the elevator, I didn’t crash. I should’ve been wiped out, but I wasn’t. Just… tired.” He glanced sideways at her. “Nick—Nick thinks something’s changing. That we should test the parameters—see how far it goes.”
She barely thought about it. She just reached for his hand and laid her fingers atop his. Heat bloomed at the contact: emotional or biological, she couldn’t say. She didn’t know what tomorrow would bring. The sabotage attacks weren’t over, and her stalker was still out there. But she knew this: David didn’t scare her. Not his secrets. Not his strangeness.
Being alone again—that scared her. Somehow, that left a deeper mark than fear alone ever could.
Chapter 23
Undertow
The suite was quiet.Too quiet.
Lena lay tangled in the sheets, her skin damp with perspiration despite the air conditioning humming in the background. Minx slept curled like a comma at her hip. The cat’s warmth, usually comforting, was now stifling.
