11. Miles #2
Benny wasn’t just good with computers. He was a world-class hacker. His name carried weight in circles most people didn’t even know existed. The kind of circles where information was currency and secrets were used as leverage.
Once I understood who he really was I realized his encouragement had never been about my future, it was about preparation. He wanted to shape me into a version of himself, to teach me how to do the things he didn’t want his grimey little hands attached to.
I didn’t buy into it. I went to college and built my own life. I stayed as far away from him and his world as I could.
Mostly.
Because the truth is, no matter how hard I try to distance myself from Benny, there was always a part of me that wanted to understand him. Maybe that’s the worst part. I knew better than to trust him. I learned that a long time ago, and yet I’m still here, calling him when I need a favor.
“What do you need?” he asks now, pulling me from my thoughts.
“I need information on someone.” I admit reluctantly. “Will you help me?”
Another pause. “Isn’t that something you can handle yourself by now? I put you in the best schools, Miles. You should be better at this.” His condescension sets me on edge and I’d give anything to break his fucking jaw right now.
“Forget it,” I snap, ready to end the call. “I’ll figure it out myself.”
“Miles—”
I hang up, tossing the phone onto the passenger seat, cursing under my breath.
I should have known better.
Asking Benny for help is like feeding a stray dog. He’ll take what you give him, then keep showing up expecting more. The man has a way of turning every favor into leverage, every conversation into a lesson about why he’s smarter than everyone else.
I needed information. Instead, he reminded me why I stopped asking him for anything years ago.
Back at my apartment, the tension from the call still clings to me. Benny has always been like this. Calculating, manipulative, and somehow always ten steps ahead. It’s like he’s playing a game no one else knows the rules to.
Ever since he moved to Paris, something changed. The calls became less frequent, the excuses became more vague. Whenever I asked what he’d been up to, he'd laugh it off or give me some bullshit answer that never quite matched the last one.
I eventually stopped asking. Maybe it was none of my business, or maybe I was just too afraid of what I’d find if I started digging. Either way, I learned a long time ago that Benny Thornton never let anyone see the whole picture.
My phone buzzes just as I’m about to step into the shower. I ignore it at first, but a second vibration pulls me back. There’s a message from Maddie and one from Benny. I open Maddie’s first, because fuck my uncle.
Maddie: Thank you for yesterday. I’m sorry about last night.
My brows crease at the last part of her message. She has no reason to be sorry.
Me: Don’t be sorry. I told you already you don’t have to deal with it by yourself anymore.
Maddie doesn’t write back right away, and I consider not opening my uncle's message. Just deleting it completely, because fuck him and his bullshit attitude, but decide against it.
I want to know what this smug bastard has to say.
Benny: If you need me to do something for you, I will. But you should know how to look into people by now, Miles. It’s not that hard. Send me their name and I’ll see what I can find.
I toss my phone onto the counter after reading Benny’s message, my jaw clenching so hard it aches.
You should know how to look into people by now, Miles.
Fucking asshole. His arrogance seeps through every word, like he’s some untouchable genius and I’m just a kid still fumbling to catch up.
I hate that I had to ask him for anything, even something as simple as running a search.
I hate how he manages to hold it over me like a weapon every time.
Benny didn’t raise me out of love. He raised me because he had a plan, and for years, I was just another piece waiting to be moved across his board.
I delete the message and head back to the shower, but even the hot water can’t wash away the anger simmering beneath my skin. Every time I think I’m done with him, he finds a way to remind me how deep his claws are sunk.
The thought follows me into the shower. I’m halfway through scrubbing shampoo from my hair when I hear a creak in the living room. My body goes rigid as I shut off the water.
Silence.
I stand perfectly still, listening as water drips onto the tiles. My pulse pounds in my ears, making it impossible to tell if I actually heard something or if my mind is playing tricks on me.
Nothing.
Slowly, I step out of the shower and wrap a towel around my waist. Every muscle in my body is tight as I move into the living room. My eyes sweep over every corner of the apartment, every shadow, every place someone could hide.
Nothing looks out of place. Still, the unease settles deeper in my gut.
When I reach the kitchen area, I glance toward the butcher block on the counter. All the knives are there, neatly arranged. I check the lock on the front door—still secure. My shoulders begin to relax, until I notice the folded piece of paper tucked beneath the dish that holds my keys.
Someone’s been here.
I reach for the note, unfolding it slowly, my pulse pounding so hard I can feel it in my throat.
“Does her pussy taste as sweet as it smells?”
I stare at the words, my fist tightening around the torn piece of paper. He was in my apartment. Again. The locks were fine. Nothing else seems out of place, but the note tells me all I need to know. He’s been fucking watching us.
My jaw tightens at the thought of him seeing Maddie and I scan the apartment once more—bed, couch, kitchen, every open corner. There’s nowhere to hide here. The open layout of my apartment should make me feel safer, but right now, it feels like a damn trap.
I move through the space, checking the windows, the door, even under the fucking furniture. I know I won’t find anyone here, but the feeling crawling up my spine won’t let me ignore it.
The worst part isn’t that he was here. It’s that he left without a trace. No forced entry, no mess. Just the note. The words are seared into my brain, and I can feel my anger tearing through me. I’m going to find him, and when I do, I’m going to fucking kill him.