Normally, with an issue like this, I would call or text Raziel for some advice, but we're not exactly on speaking terms.
We probably never will.
I curse as my thoughts start to shift to the man who broke my heart. Damn it, I was doing so well, and this is yet another clue to finally go to bed. My brain already feels like scrambled eggs after the day I've had, and my eyelids are heavy. Sleep, yes, that's what I need.
I reach for the mouse, intending to log off, when the screen flickers again, a momentary glitch of light and shadow.For a split second, the display warps, the colors bleeding into eachother, like a watercolor painting caught in the rain. I blink, rub my eyes, and for a fleeting instant, I think I imagined it. Again?
Wait, no. I didn't imagine it the first time either.
I blink at my screen, trying to figure out if it's my computer that's broken or if, in this case, it's my brain. I wouldn't rule out the latter. I've already pushed myself too much today.
“Alright, Fiona, let's just shut down, and we'll deal with it tomorrow.”
But then, the screen flickers again, and this time, there's no mistaking it. The icons on my desktop begin to shift and rearrange themselves, as if a mischievous hand is playing with them. A shiver runs down my spine. The hum of the lights seems to intensify, morphing into a low, ominous thrum. My heart rate quickens, a frantic drum against my ribs. I lean forward, my gaze fixed on the screen, a sense of unease bubbling in my stomach. This isn't a power surge or a software error.
And then it all stops...
What the hell!
I watch, dumbfounded, as the cursor, which moments ago was obediently following my commands, begins to move on its own, a tiny, erratic dance across the screen. My breath hitches in my throat. The screen flickers again, and a new window pops up, displaying a series of unfamiliar commands. Finally, realization dawns. This is a remote access session. Someone is in my system.
Damn it. Damn it.
Usually, I would have realized what's happening from the first screen flicker, but my brain is more fried than usual. Slowly, I feel my shock transform into irritation. Someone just got into my system. So blatantly. The audacity of it annoys me.
Adrenaline surges through me, snapping me into focus. I reach for the task manager, determined to shut down the rogue process, but the system is locked. I try the network monitor, hoping to trace the intruder's IP address, but the connection logs have already been wiped. The hacker is good, damn good.
But I'm better.
Suddenly, I remember a backdoor I implemented years ago, a hidden command sequence that should sever the connection. With trembling fingers, I type the sequence, the familiar charactersthat should put an end to this game. The screen goes black for a moment, and then a small text box appears, displaying a single line: “Input key.”
I want to scream, cry, and swipe everything off my desk in a fit of rage.
It failed.
I wasn't supposed to fail!
How dare he lock me out of my own computer? I glare at the screen, livid when it flickers again, and a message appears in a small text box.
“I'll give you the key. If you give me five minutes of your time –R.”
I stare at my computer, completely flabbergasted by the sheer shamelessness of the man to hack into my device and lock me out. It's an insult, the biggest insult to a hacker. So what if he has years and years of experience on me—it gives him no right to do this.
Oh, he wants five minutes?
Fine!
He'll be lucky to have hands left when I'm through with him!
I push back my chair and get up, grabbing my phone and storming out of my apartment. I don't care that the city is sleeping, I'll show him. I start to call for an Uber as I head downstairs, but there's a car already waiting outside for me. I recognise the driver as someone who works for the Rossis, and I try not to be touched that he'd send a car for me so late.
Damn him. He has no right to play with my heart like this.
I spend the ride to his place, seething. Picturing all the ways I'm going to hurt him. I vow to find a way to get into that computer he has systems guarding like it holds secrets to the universe.
I'm practically vibrating when the driver pulls up in front of a large building, intimidating in its structure. No one stops me, and I glide easily to the elevators, getting immediate access to a space that normally wouldn't be so easy to get through.
I pace in the elevator, and when it opens on the top floor, I already have a play-by-play plan for what I'm going to do to Lorenzo.
