18. Myles #2
“I fucked up, and they figured out I was in there and looking at things I shouldn’t.
” Admitting this to anyone is hard, but for reasons I can’t explain, it’s really hard to admit it to him.
“Their system is so basic and easy to get into that I got overconfident, and they traced the hack back to me.”
“What did you do after you found the files?”
“I downloaded them, then I corrupted multiple parts of their system to cover up what I did, but I didn’t do a thorough enough job of covering my tracks.”
“Is that what he blackmailed you with?” he asks. “Releasing the information about your involvement with the charity job?”
“No. Those were just threats he used to get me to click on the link and see what he was actually going to blackmail me with.” My stomach flips over and goes sour at the memories of when I first saw what was behind that link.
“What were they trying to blackmail you with?”
“I can’t say it,” I whisper. “Please don’t make me say it.”
“Was it the deepfakes?”
“You know about them?” Relief and fear fill me in equal measures.
Oh god. Did he see them? Did he see all the disgusting shit they created to manipulate me and force me to help them?
My stomach roils, and for a second, I think I’m going to be sick.
He must see the change in me because his voice is soft and soothing when he speaks.
“Myles, look at the camera. Let me see your face.”
I lift my eyes and do as he says. Something about obeying him helps calm some of my disgust, and I’m able to take a deep breath when he tells me to.
“I know about the videos. I haven’t seen them,” he assures me. “And we’re making sure no one ever does.”
“What do you mean?” I whisper, not daring to hope that he’s been able to do what I couldn’t.
“Remember how I said you’re not the only hacker I know? The ones I know found out about the deepfakes earlier today, ironically, and they deleted them from the source. The originals are gone, and as far as they can tell, the only copies that were made are also gone.”
“Really?” My vision goes blurry as tears fill my eyes. This can’t be true, can it?
“Yes, really. They’re running checks to see if any of them ended up on the dark web or are being passed around the various chat rooms and social media groups that are known for consuming that shit.
So far they haven’t found any evidence that they are, but they’re going to keep checking until they know for sure that they’re gone and no one will ever see them. ”
“Are you being serious?” I ask, my voice trembling as more tears fill my eyes. “Like for real serious?”
I’ve spent months desperately searching for the source of the originals and doing checks and sweeps to see if they ended up online or on the dark web.
And after coming up empty-handed time and time again, I was beginning to feel like it was hopeless and I wouldn’t find them until someone else did and used them against me and my family.
“I’m dead serious,” he says, and there’s something about his voice that makes me believe him.
I let my knees drop as a heavy sense of exhaustion falls over me.
“Myles?”
“Just processing,” I say and give the camera a wobbly smile. “This is a lot.”
“It is,” he agrees. “But there’s one more thing you need to tell me.”
“What’s that?”
“What they blackmailed you into doing.”
“Oh, yeah. That.” I blow out a heavy sigh. “They blackmailed me into helping Jacob try to kill another student.” I wait for some sort of backlash at my declaration, but there isn’t one.
“Tell me about that.”
“They had me break into the security system at Hamilton House and update them on his movements. Then they picked a time when he—Jacob—would go after him. I was supposed to hack the swipe logs to get him in and out of the building without leaving a trace and alter the video feeds to get rid of any evidence that he was there and what he did to the kid.”
“And what happened when he tried to kill the kid?”
“He fucked up and the kid got away.”
“And what did you do?” he presses.
“I altered the feed like I was told. I got rid of all the footage that showed Jacob was there.” I pause for a few beats. “But I left evidence that someone tried to kill the kid.”
“Why did you do that?”
“Because I felt like shit for helping them kill someone who definitely doesn’t deserve it.
I didn’t want them to get away with it, so I covered my tracks and left as much evidence as I could for the Rebels to use if they wanted to find him—Jacob, not the kid I helped them kill.
They already knew him since he’s under their protection. ”
“Is that the end of your involvement in the plot to kill him?”
“Mostly.” I lift one leg and hug my knee to my chest. “They had me put a tracker in his phone so I could keep tabs on him and tell them where he was when they were ready to try again. I gave them the info, but I made sure the kid wasn’t where he was supposed to be so they’d fail.”
“Why did you risk that? You had to know that would put you in danger if they realized what you did.”
“I know. But I couldn’t go through with it.
I saw what he did to the kid the first time he tried to kill him, and it stayed with me.
When they told me about the second plan, I just couldn’t be part of it, so I did what I could to help him and hoped to fuck they didn’t figure out that I was the one who screwed up their plans.
And if they did figure it out, then I hoped to fuck that whatever they did to me would be quick. ”
“Is that why you put the backdoor into your code? Because you were afraid of them?”
“Partly. I was desperate at that point. I knew they wouldn’t stop going after him until they killed him, and they’d keep using me to do it.
I didn’t know if I’d be able to foil their plans again, and maybe this makes me a selfish asshole, but I knew they’d kill me once they were done, and I was desperate.
I thought maybe someone would find it and realize that I wasn’t involved because I wanted to be and they might spare me and go after the guys who were really behind the hits.
” I roll one shoulder in a shrug. “It was kind of my Hail Mary, and it worked because someone found it and used it. And I still have no idea who the fuck they are.” I can’t keep the bitterness out of my voice at that last part.
He makes a thoughtful sound. “Interesting.”
“Interesting?” I ask incredulously. “That’s all you have to say after I tell you I helped people try to kill someone who didn’t do anything wrong?”
“What would you prefer I say?” I don’t miss the tinge of amusement in his voice, and I give the camera a flat look.
“I don’t know. Maybe that I’m awful and a terrible person, and I deserve all of this because of the shit I’ve done?”
“I could say that, but then I’d be lying. Do you want me to lie to you?”
“Well, no, but…”
“But?”
“But… I don’t know.” Letting my leg fall back to the floor, I rub one hand over my face tiredly.
“You were blackmailed into it, but you still did what you could to make catching them easier. And you went against them and foiled their plan even though you knew they’d kill you if they found out what you did. Is that accurate?”
“Yeah…”
“So how does that make you a terrible person? A terrible person wouldn’t have tried to help, and they never would have put themselves at risk.
And unless you have some black hat hack jobs under your belt that I don’t know about, nothing about exposing a bogus charity is terrible, so why would you deserve bad things to happen to you when you didn’t do anything bad? ”
I sit with that for almost a full minute, letting it percolate and roll around in my mind. “I…I don’t know?” I finally say.
“From where I’m sitting, you did what you could to fix a situation you had no control over. You didn’t have to do any of it, and the fact that you did and you still feel guilty about it proves you’re not a terrible person. You were just in a terrible situation.”
“I should pay you an hourly wage for being my therapist,” I say with a small smile. “I’ve been tearing myself up over that for months, and you literally took all that guilt and crap away in what, two minutes?”
“It helps that I don’t think like other people,” he says. “And I don’t see things the same way, so it’s easier for me to use logic instead of emotion. Logically, you did nothing wrong. It’s your emotions that are convincing you otherwise.”
I suck in a deep breath, then let it out in a rush. “You make a lot of sense.” A bubble of laughter escapes me, and I bite the inside of my cheek so I don’t start laughing hysterically.
“What was that for?” he asks.
“Mostly a release,” I tell him, fighting back more of those pesky releases. “And partly because I just realized how easy you are to talk to, and how I’ve never talked with anyone like this before.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I don’t usually go around spilling my deepest, darkest secrets and confessing my sins to someone I can’t see.
” I pause at that. “Well, that’s not true.
I don’t make a habit of confessing my sins to a stalker I can’t see.
And something tells me you might have opened up more than usual tonight, too. ”
“That I did. I’ve never told anyone about my diagnosis. Only family knows. Family and now you.”
I try not to grin like a dumbass but fail miserably.
“You’re really easy to talk to,” I say again. “Like dangerously easy. I’m not a talker. I don’t tell people about my personal shit, not even my best friends. But I couldn’t seem to stop talking once we started.”
I lean back on my hands and gently kick my feet.
“I know this is a messed-up situation and nothing about it is normal, but you don’t feel like a stranger.
Like, I have no idea who you are or how you’re connected to the school, but I know all this stuff about you now.
And I’m very familiar with your dick and your rope collection.
” My cheeks flush warm. “But I’ve never seen your face.
It’s weird, but at the same time, it’s not weird at all.
” I shake my head. “Don’t mind me. I’m just fifty shades of fucked up right now, and I’m rambling. ”
“Does anything you learned about me tonight change things?”
I shake my head. “It probably should, but it doesn’t.” I pause. “Thank you.”
“For what?” he sounds genuinely confused.
“For taking care of the deepfakes. I’ve spent months trying to find them, and I was beginning to think I never would. And I’ve been terrified that they’d get released and they’d destroy my family. It feels like I can breathe again.”
“You don’t have to thank me for that.”
“Maybe not, but I’m still going to.” I scrub my hand through my hair and let out a deep sigh.
“I can’t believe it’s really over. I knew they were dead, but I wasn’t sure if they were working alone or if there was someone in the background I didn’t know and I’ve been waiting for them to pop up out of nowhere and start this nightmare all over again. ”
“The threats from them have been neutralized. You don’t need to worry about them anymore,” he says. “But the Kings are a different story.”
“You think I still need to worry about them?”
“Yes. Even if they never find out that you were involved in the charity job, we have to assume at least some of them know you deleted their blackmail files. That’s not something they’ll just let go.”
I groan and drop my head into my hands. “Of course it isn’t. Wait,” I say and lift my head so I’m looking at the camera again. “Do you think that’s why those guys jumped me? They were delivering a message about fucking with their blackmail plan or whatever?”
“That would be my guess. And they’re definitely going to hold me beating those guys up against you.”
“Ugh.” I groan. “I’m going to get my ass kicked so bad when they decide to come after me again.”
“No, you won’t. No one will ever touch you as long as I’m around.”
The deep timbre of his voice and the possessive way he said it make something in my chest tighten and a warm flush move through me.
“Promise?” I ask before I can stop myself.
“I promise.”
I want to thank him again but stop myself before the words tumble out of my mouth.
“I should go,” I say instead, my tone reluctant. “I haven’t really been sleeping all that well, and I’m exhausted after all those truth bombs.”
“Goodnight, Myles.”
“Night.” I start to reach for the statue but drop my arm.
I don’t want to turn it around. It’s stupid, but I’m feeling vulnerable and emotional after our conversation, and I don’t want to be alone. It doesn’t matter if we don’t talk or if he isn’t actually on the other side of the camera. Just knowing that he could be will help me feel less alone.
It's reckless and a stupid idea, but fuck it. I just had a heart-to-heart with my stalker, and right now he’s the only person who makes me feel safe.
Shaking my head at how insane my life is right now, I turn the statue so it’s facing my bed, then walk over to my dresser so I can pull the notebook away from the one in my clock puzzle.
Go big or go home, right?