Hunt Me (Beautiful Monsters #4)

Chapter 1 Alexi

ALEXI

Islam my laptop shut and shove it into my messenger bag, cursing under my breath.

Three weeks. Three fucking weeks of chasing digital breadcrumbs that lead nowhere.

Whoever this “Phantom” is, they’re good.

Too good. They’ve been slicing through my security protocols like they’re made of fucking tissue paper, and it’s driving me insane.

My phone buzzes with Nikolai’s text: “Dinner. Now.”

I glare at my phone. Typical Nikolai—treating texts like royal decrees. No need for pleasantries when you’re the tsar of the Ivanov empire.

“Fuck,” I mutter, glancing at the time. It’s almost 9 PM. I’ve been holed up in this café near MIT for fourteen hours straight, running trace programs that are getting me exactly nowhere.

I toss a hundred on the table—way too much for the six espressos I’ve consumed, but the barista’s been refilling my water without me asking. Small kindnesses deserve recognition in this shark tank of a city.

Outside, Boston’s fall air hits my face with a sobering chill. I could take a rideshare, but my thoughts are spiraling too fast for confinement. My fingers twitch with unspent energy as I start walking, navigating through the Cambridge streets toward the Longfellow Bridge.

“Phantom,” I whisper, the name tasting bitter on my tongue.

Three times they’ve breached our financial firewalls.

Three times I’ve patched the vulnerability only to find another exploit.

It’s like they’re taunting me personally, leaving digital fingerprints distinct enough for me to recognize but too ghostly to trace.

My phone buzzes again: “Alexi. Now.”

“I’m walking, brother,” I say aloud to no one, typing nothing. Nikolai hates being ignored. I hate being rushed. We’re at an impasse, as usual.

The Charles River stretches below me as I cross the bridge, the city lights rippling on its surface. Boston’s skyline gleams ahead, all glass and steel and old-world brick. In that maze of wealth and history sits our fortress—a Beacon Hill mansion that’s more secure than most government facilities.

Twenty minutes later, I’m climbing the steps to our front door.

I push through the massive oak doors of the mansion, the familiar smell of expensive furniture polish and Oksana’s cooking hitting me at once.

Voices drift from the dining room—laughter, the clink of crystal, domestic bliss in the lion’s den.

“Ah, the prodigal son arrives,” Dmitri announces as I enter. He’s sitting with his arm draped possessively around Tash’s shoulders, looking like a Wall Street poster boy.

“Sorry I’m late. Was busy saving our digital kingdom from barbarians at the gate,” I drop into the empty chair, the only one without a partner beside it. “Don’t mind me, just the resident tech gnome.”

Sofia passes me a basket of bread. “Everything okay, Alexi?”

“Peachy. Just been playing the world’s worst game of digital hide-and-seek for the past three weeks.” I grab a roll and tear into it. “Anyone want to trade lives? Erik? Your job involves straightforward things like bullets and blood, right?”

Erik, sitting with his arm almost touching Katarina’s, gives me his trademark stone-faced stare.

“I’m simply suggesting that chasing someone who can disappear into digital ether is less satisfying than your more... tangible problems,” I say, reaching for the vodka.

Nikolai clears his throat. “Perhaps work discussions can wait until after dinner.”

“Sure, sure. Let’s talk about... what exactly? The weather? Politics? The fact that I’m clearly the seventh wheel on this very balanced family tricycle?”

Tash snorts into her wine glass, earning a look from Dmitri.

“What?” I spread my hands innocently. “Just observing the perfectly paired nature of our little gathering. It’s like Noah’s Ark, but with designer suits and homicidal tendencies, and my girl missed the fucking boat.”

“Shut up, Alexi.” Nikolai’s voice cuts through the dining room, not angry but firm—the voice he used to break up fights when we were children. “If you don’t like being the odd man out, perhaps stop chasing digital ghosts and find yourself a real woman.”

I raise my vodka glass in mock salute. “Says the man who stalked his wife before making a move. Real smooth romance strategy there, big brother.”

Sofia’s lips twitch. “He has a point, Kolya.”

“I wasn’t stalking,” Nikolai responds with dignified offense. “I was conducting thorough background research.”

“From outside her bedroom window?” Dmitri adds dryly.

I snort. “Remember when he hacked her gallery security just to watch her work? Amateur hour. I could have done it remotely.”

“And yet you’re single,” Tash points out, leaning into Dmitri’s side. “Maybe there’s something to be said for the direct approach.”

“Direct approach?” I laugh. “Is that what we’re calling it when Dmitri terrorized you for weeks before you fell for his charms? Or when Erik literally kidnapped Katarina?”

Erik’s expression doesn’t change, but his hand slides over to cover Katarina’s on the table. “It worked.”

“You all set a terrifying precedent,” I mutter. “What am I supposed to do? Find a nice girl and lock her in my server room until Stockholm syndrome kicks in?”

“Maybe try conversation first,” Sofia suggests.

“Or showering regularly,” Dmitri adds.

I flip him off casually. “I showered yesterday. Maybe.”

“The Phantom has been occupying all his time,” Nikolai explains to the table. “Three weeks and no progress. Perhaps it’s a sign you’ve met your match, little brother.”

The reminder of my failure stings more than I want to admit. “No one is my match. I just haven’t... fully engaged yet.”

“Or maybe,” Tash says with a sly smile, “you’re enjoying the chase too much to actually catch them.”

“Enjoying the chase?” I scoff, but something in Tash’s words hits uncomfortably close to home. “That’s like saying I enjoy migraines or being stabbed repeatedly with rusty forks.”

I reach for the vodka again, pouring myself another glass while avoiding Nikolai’s disapproving stare.

The truth is more complicated. This Phantom is the first worthy adversary I’ve had in years.

Most hackers are script kiddies playing with tools they barely understand.

This one... this one knows the game better than anyone I’ve encountered.

“Perhaps the Phantom is a woman,” Sofia suggests, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “That would explain why you can’t bring yourself to end the game.”

Dmitri chuckles. “Our Alexi, undone by a woman he’s never even seen.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” I snap, but the thought sends an unexpected thrill through me. “Gender is irrelevant in code. All that matters is skill.”

Erik, man of few words as always, raises an eyebrow. “You sound defensive.”

“I’m not defensive!” My voice rises enough that Oksana peeks in from the kitchen, concern etched on her weathered face.

I lower my volume. “I’m frustrated. This hacker is like a ghost—there and gone before I can lock onto them.

They’re using a sophisticated bouncing protocol I’ve never seen before. ”

“Maybe that’s your problem,” Katarina says quietly. It’s the first time she’s addressed me directly all evening. “You’re trying to catch something ethereal with a net.”

I pause, fork halfway to my mouth. “Meaning?”

“Sometimes to catch a ghost, you need to become one yourself.” She shrugs, suddenly self-conscious as all eyes turn to her.

I tap my fingers against the table, mind racing. “That’s... not entirely stupid. I’ve been trying to trap them, but maybe I need to haunt them instead.”

“God help us all,” Dmitri mutters. “He’s got that look.”

“What look?” I ask, already mentally coding a new approach.

“The one that means we won’t see you for days and should probably stock the fridge with energy drinks and frozen pizza,” Tash finishes for him.

I stare at Katarina for a solid five seconds. “Become a ghost. Huh.” My mind’s already racing, algorithms reconstructing themselves in my head like living things. “That’s... actually brilliant.”

“Don’t encourage him,” Erik mutters, but there’s almost a smile hidden in his stoic expression.

My fingers drum faster on the tablecloth as the idea expands, fractal-like. “I’ve been trying to catch them in the act, but what if I create a ghost of my own? A digital doppelg?nger that follows their signature, mirroring their movements, becoming their shadow.”

Sofia passes me the potatoes I haven’t asked for. “In English for those of us who don’t speak binary?”

“I’ll create a program that behaves like them, uses their methods.

When they breach a system, my ghost will follow, attaching itself to their code like a.

.. like a digital parasite.” The excitement builds in my chest, that familiar electric feeling when I’m onto something good.

“I won’t just track them—I’ll haunt them. ”

Nikolai studies me with those calculating gray eyes. “How long?”

“Two days. Maybe three.” I’m already mentally cataloging the components I’ll need, the structure, the failsafes.

“You said that last time,” Dmitri points out. “Then disappeared for a week.”

I wave dismissively. “Minor details. This is different. This time I’m not trying to build walls—I’m creating a hunter.” I push my barely-touched plate away and stand up. “Sorry to eat and run, but I need to—”

“Sit.” Nikolai’s command freezes me halfway out of my chair. “Finish your dinner first. The Phantom has waited three weeks; they can wait another thirty minutes.”

I sink back down, recognizing the tone that brooks no argument. “Fine. But I’m taking coffee to go.”

“And actual food,” Sofia adds, her expression somewhere between amusement and concern. “You look like you’ve lost weight.”

“The only thing I’ve lost is sleep and my patience,” I mutter, but I grab my fork anyway. Food is fuel, and I’ll need it for what’s coming next.