My phone buzzes on the table. I ignore it. It buzzes again, and I look down to see notifications from posts on Aquarius Social and Malice Media. Sighing, I lift the phone to see Alana posting on both platforms about her wedding. She’s beautiful and has a million likes on both platforms, even though they have different functions. Then TimeGem Moments buzzes with a notification, and I click over to see Corinda dishing about the event. My step-sister gives a couple of digs to Alana, hints that Justice Beathach made a pass at her, and then flirts with the camera.
Rolling my eyes, I go back to my computer for a few more minutes until my phone dings with a call this time. I answer without looking away from the screen. “Yeah?”
“Ella, it’s Wesley. You disappeared on me. Is everything all right?”
I forgot about my date to the wedding. “I had to deal with something for work.” I catch another flicker of the false crystal code. This didn’t come fromAquarius—somebody has hacked their system. An outsider. It’s not just an intrusion. It’s a rewrite. If they manage to blend this synthetic pattern with Aquarius Social’s original structure, the entire shielding network could be compromised. Dang it. I can’t let this hacker take down Alana’s platform.
“I was heading to the diner,” Wesley says. “Didn’t eat at the wedding. Want to meet?”
My stomach growls. I haven’t eaten all day. I hesitate, watching the diagnostic algorithm begin to crawl through the compromised sectors. It’ll take at least twenty-four hours to complete the scan. Should I tell him somebody has infiltrated his system? He’ll patch it and I won’t be able to use my own hack to tunnel toward the TimeGem servers. I’m starting to dislike myself. “Yeah, I can be there in twenty minutes.”
“Perfect.”
I end the call and lock down my equipment, stash my encrypted drives, and slip a static disruptor into my bag. The diner’s only a few blocks away. It’s secure and located on neutral ground. I’m not in the mood for surprises, but if they come, I’ll be ready.
There’s no time to overthink. I throw on a pair of jeans, a plain black T-shirt, and an old gray hoodie. My knife goes into the front pocket. It’s well-balanced and easy to reach. I don’t carry anything I can’t use quickly.
I lock up the safe house, moving fast through the soft rain with my hood covering my head. I’ve got several cars stashed around Silicon Valley, all scrubbed and clean. I head for the closest, which is an unremarkable gray Volkswagen Bug parked in a back alley two blocks away. It starts on the first try.
I drive through the quiet streets of Palo Alto, heading south toward the edge of the industrial district. At this hour, everything has a washed-out, artificial glow. Most of the Valley is asleep. The real work happens under it.
The place isn’t just a diner. Not really. It’s called Plot Twist, and it’s a twenty-four-hour techno bar hidden behind a fake bakery front. You don’t find it unless you know the entry code and the right way to knock. Inside, the lighting is dim and ambient, the tables are old steel server racks repurposed into booths, and the place always smells faintly of ozone and fried eggs.
Pumpkins and fall leaves decorate the interior of the place, giving it that cozy autumn vibe.
I hustle in and spot Wesley right away. He’s seated at the back in a semi-private booth, facing the door. Tugging off my hood and shaking rain off my arms, I move toward him.
He smiles. There’s an ease to him that makes it hard not to relax, even now. He’s always been fun to be around, but tonight I like him more than usual. There’s something steady about him, even when everything else in my world feels unstable. I wish I could tell him the full truth.
I hurry toward him and take a seat, slightly breathless.
“I missed dancing with you,” he murmurs.
“We danced.” A couple of times, but the only songs I remember are the ones I danced with Justice. What is it about that guy? My clit perks right up at the thought of him. What is wrong with me?
As if reading my mind, Wesley frowns. “Is there something going on between you and Justice Beathach?”
“No.” I sigh. “I’m sorry I danced with him.” My clit throbs in total protest, but I ignore that bitch. “He wasrather insistent. It won’t happen again.” Not that I owe Wesley an explanation. We just started dating and spend more time talking code than kissing.
The waitress bops up, smiling at Wesley, nodding at me. We both order the breakfast special and she takes off on high-tops, her legs long beneath a short skirt. I don’t love how she looked at Wesley, but I like her pink hair a lot.
“She’s cute,” I murmur.
“Who?”
Okay, that’s sweet. He didn’t even notice the waitress. Wesley deserves somebody better than me, considering I’m hacking into his system right now. Maybe that’s why we haven’t taken this thing very far. Instinctively we know it’s a bad idea?
He takes my hand. “We need a vacation. A destination one. Somewhere sunny with tropical drinks and nude beaches.”
Nude beaches? This is a surprise. His hand is warm on mine. “We both have a lot going on.”
“I want more. Between us. Everything.” He smiles. “Don’t worry. I’ll plan the entire week.” His phone dings. He pulls it out and reads the message. “Damn it.”
“What?” I ask.
“Somebody just tried to breach Aquarius Social’s servers. Our automated perimeter scan flagged an internal access attempt.”
I freeze. My brain does a rapid check of the breadcrumbs I might’ve left behind. I was careful. I wasverycareful. But the algorithm I used was a variation of the one I’ve used a few times before. If it bounced wrong, it might’ve tripped something in the larger system. “Do you need any help dealing with the problem?”
