Chapter 34
They’re Still Fingering My Firewall
Max
When we finally reach Eli’s house, the door unlocks remotely from his phone and I rush inside. The twenty-minute drive felt endless, stretched thin by me trying to walk Lexy through tracing the hack in real time—only to realize she couldn’t move fast enough to keep up. Neither could Reese.
I run to the guestroom where my laptop is, while Lara makes herself comfortable in the kitchen. She refused to leave in case I needed to go back to the hospital.
Even if it doesn’t seem like Eli wants me there.
I fire everything up. My stomach drops. Red alerts flash across the screen. System breach. Unauthorized access attempt. Multiple entry points lighting up like a damn Christmas tree.
It’s worse than I thought. Someone’s probing the firewall again, yes, but smarter this time. They’re rotating IPs, bouncing through compromised nodes, masking their signature just enough to make it slippery.
Cute.
I tunnel in, pulling logs, tracing packets, watching the traffic flow like a living thing.
He’s learned, which is why Lexy couldn’t keep up.
I’ll give them respect for that. Every time they come back, though, they leave something behind.
A timing delay that doesn’t quite add up.
A reused encryption key they think I won’t notice.
A habit of favoring the same routing pattern when he’s in a hurry.
There it is. There’s the kink.
I isolate the thread, unwrap it layer by layer, reverse-engineering the path while they’re still fingering my firewall. My fingers fly. Scripts run. Traps spring. I lock down one vector and watch him recoil.
You’re good. But you’re not better than me.
Then I punch through the final mask and see it.
The origin point flashes on my screen.
It’s unmistakable.
My breath leaves my body all at once.
No. No no no.
I stare at the location data, my reflection faint in the dark screen. This isn’t a distant threat. This isn’t some faceless opportunist halfway across the world.
This is close. Imminent.
I call Timanth, the plan forming as the line rings. She doesn’t answer but I don’t bother leaving a message or texting, not sure how close to the chest I need to keep this.
This is too big. Too risky. Too personal to handle from another country. I know what needs to happen.
I package the logs and send them straight to Anastasia, Timantha’s best friend. She’s the only other hacker I trust to read this without spiraling or minimizing it.
Then I go to my room and start packing.
The guilt hits in waves. Missing the pitch. Missing the gala. The dress still hanging, tags on, the memory of the way Eli asked me to go with him. I should feel worse about leaving. About not being there when it all comes to a head.
But then I think about the way he’s pulled back. The emotional retreat. The walls slamming into place so cleanly it’s almost surgical. And something in me hardens.
My job is done. I showed up. I delivered. If they screw up the pitch now, that’s on them, not me.
I call Eli. It goes straight to voicemail. No ring.
Wow.
That settles it.
I can’t stay here pretending I’m on pause while everything that matters waits for me somewhere else. I’ve been able to hide in these mountains, in the quiet, in borrowed calm, but that only works when your real life isn’t actively calling you back.
Whatever I came here to escape has caught up with me. And whatever comes next needs me present, not tucked away in someone else’s peace.
I can’t wait for Eli to come around.
I can’t sit here waiting for permission that may never come.
Permission to stay.
So I nod to myself, the decision settling in without ceremony. If he’s returning to the version of himself that keeps things contained and locked away, then I can do the same. I know how to be that woman. I was her long before I ever came here.
And with that, the choice is made.
I walk back out to the living room area where Lara is, bags in my hand and tears in my eyes.
“It’s time for me to go home.”