Three walls are filled with monitors, and the blinking lights from the servers create a strange tune in the dimly lit room.
404 sits in the center, his fingers running across multiple keyboards, even though I can see he’s clenching his teeth as he moves the arm Ares shot. I swear he’s following more than a dozen screens at a time. His eyes are wide, fixed on numbers that make no sense to me, but I can see two other guys and the woman nervously pivoting around him like he’s the center of their universe.The same ones from the warehouse. These must be the hackers Ares got when 404 ran away.
“You found something,” Ares states rather than asks, walking to stand behind 404’s chair.
404 nods rapidly, the distress in his eyes visible in Ares’s presence. “The SSL connection that was registered to MD Cyber Security Systems. I tracked it back through seven different shell companies, each one more obscure than the last.” He pulls up a diagram on his center monitor, showing a complex web of connections. “But they funnel back to this holding corporation.” He taps a name highlighted in red at the bottom of the screen: Morrigan Enterprises. “So I dug deeper,” 404 goes on, his voice growing more confident as we are now in his territory. “Financial records, property holdings, tax filings… all of them hidden by someone who knows their shit. But not enough to avoid leaving a trail.” There’s a hint of pride in his voice as he speaks. The kind of pride that guarantees he’ll live, no matter how badly he betrayed Ares. “Everything leads back to one person, Nathaniel Whitlock.”
The name means nothing to me, but Ares’ jaw locks tight, and I can hear a hiss leaving his lips.
“Who’s Nathaniel Whitlock?” I ask, studying his face for a reaction.
“Fuck,” Ares mutters, and I can feel the venom in his words as his eyes glint with that darkness that defines him. “One of the Observers.”
I freeze at the mention of the Observers. The strange freaks that watched me as I fought, bled, and killed my way through the game.
“Whitlock is old money with new ambitions,” Ares explains, pacing the length of the room, like he’s trying to put pieces of a grand puzzle together. “Wealthy businessman, deeply embedded in political circles. He has his sights set on a Senate seat in the upcoming election.” He stops, turning to face me. “Thisfucking complicates things.”
“Complicates but doesn't make them impossible, right?” I ask, trying to make sure we’re still on the same team, because I don’t give a shit who this guy is, I’m not giving up.
“Nothing is impossible to me,” he groans, like this is something I should’ve known by now. A lesson I keep refusing to listen to. “Besides, I was expecting something like this. It had to be someone with enough resources to break into my system, and who has use for the people I’m gathering for the game.”
Ares looks at 404, still typing on the keyboard, digging things up. “I just didn’t expect Whitlock specifically,” Ares’ mouth twists. “He’s more geek than mobster. A classical politician who runs with his tail between his legs rather than taking on a real man’s fight.” He leans over 404's shoulder, examining the data on the screens. “He prefers watching from the shadows. That’s why he never registered as a Valiant in any of the Kharon games. Because he definitely had the money to do it.”
404 clears his throat. “There’s more,” he types rapidly, hacking into Whitlock's emails. “He’s hosting a party at his compound next week. Heavy security with an exclusive guest list.”
“You didn’t have to hack him to dig that up. I received an invitation,” Ares says, deep in thought. “Didn’t plan to attend—”
“But now we’re going,” I cut him off, leaving no room for negotiation this time. I need to get there. I need to see the bastard for myself.
Ares smiles, feeling the fire in my voice. “Yes, now we’re going. It’s our best chance to get him during the party. The place will be crawling with people. His compound is a fortress. Getting in any other way would require noise on a normal day, maybe even burning the whole block down.”
“And you prefer subtlety?” I almost laugh, not bothering to hide the sarcasm.
His eyes lock onto mine, and I can tell I pissed him off. “I prefer to know what I’m dealing with. He might not be alone, and I don’t want to alert anyone else who could be involved.”
404 looks at us, then quickly returns his attention to his screens, clearly taken aback by the tension between us. Because in the end, his life depends on me keeping Ares under control, and I’m onlypartiallysucceeding.
Ares turns to 404. “Send everything you have on Whitlock to my secure server. Floor plans of the compound, if you can get them. Plus anything else we could use. Just make sure you’re not being watched this time,” he punctuates the words, as if to remind 404of his slip-up. “Also, get a few of my men onto that invite list. Just in case we find something and need a way to get him out.”
“Already working on it,” 404 says, his fingers running even faster across the keyboards.
Ares steps closer to me, close enough that I can feel the heat radiating from his body. “You were right, we’ve got work to do,” he says, his voice gaining a dangerous edge. “I will protect you no matter what, but you need training for any eventuality.”
“I’ll be ready,” I smile, actually feeling better than ever despite my injured leg. “When do we get back to it?”
“Now.”
*****
Day one after 404’s breakthrough, and my leg is still screaming with each movement.
But Ares shows no mercy, and I wouldn’t want him to.
“Again,” he commands after I miss a block and his fist stops an inch away from my ribs. “Your weight distribution is fucking wrong again,” he says, moving behind me. His hands find my hips, adjusting them with no gentleness. “Like this,” he says, and I can feel his breath warm on my neck along with the frustration in his voice.
Mistakes get you killed.Webothknow that.
I correct my stance, ignoring the heat, the desperation pooling where his fingers pressed against my skin. Only five seconds of contact were enough to get me vibrating under his touch. I can’t stop wondering how is this possible when a man’s touch used to have no effect on me?
