Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 65104 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 326(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65104 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 326(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
He shrugs casually. “Maybe they think we’re pacified. You’ve been quiet too.”
I nod once. “That was by design.”
“I know that, but they don’t.”
We sit in silence for a beat.
“Brighton’s his weak spot,” Alek adds. “We could hit him there. Get in quick and surgical, with no time for a counterattack. We can cut off his southern channel. Push him into Manhattan with no supply chain.”
It’s a solid strategy, and we’re on offense now. The more advantages we have, the better.
I stand and walk to the windows behind my desk. The skyline is gray today, washed in pre-storm light. It feels dangerous and foreboding.
“Put the plan together,” I say.
Alek nods behind me. “Should we use our usual crew?”
“No,” I answer firmly. “I want to see new blood. Use unmarked cars too, so there’s no trail.”
“Do you want a body count?”
“Only if it’s absolutely necessary,” I say, then pause. “But whatever you do, make sure it sends a message.”
He smiles, a grin as bright as Christmas morning.
I turn back toward him. “You have seventy-two hours. By Monday, they should be shitting their pants at just the thought of us.”
“You got it.”
He drains the last of his drink, then sets the glass down with a soft clink.
“I’ll text you when it’s ready,” he says. “Enjoy your night.”
I nod and watch him leave. The moment the door clicks shut, I exhale through my nose and glance at the time.
Lyra’s shift ends in ten minutes.
I don’t need to check, but I do anyway. It’s become a habit. I open the company chat feed and scan the activity log. She clocked in at eight this morning and hasn’t taken a single break longer than twelve minutes. She solved two major bugs, completed one UI enhancement flagged by QA, and sent a Slack message to her team that actually made me laugh when I saw it earlier.
She’s smart in a quiet, sharp way. She doesn’t waste words. I like that about her.
I close the window and leave my office, nodding once to Andrea as I pass. She raises a brow at me but doesn’t ask where I’m going.
I take the private stairwell to the floor below. I could take the elevator, but I like the sound of my own footsteps echoing off steel and concrete. It helps clear my head, especially after a talk with Alek.
I step onto the tech floor, and the air shifts. People look up at me, flinching a little as if they’ve done something wrong. They always do this, and I know that’s my fault. I’ve never been easily accessible to any of them.
Most of them pretend not to react to me at all, even as they visibly shrink in my presence.
But Lyra looks up at me boldly.
She’s standing by her desk, already shutting down her monitors. Her hair is half-up today, the rest falling in waves over her shoulders. She’s wearing a slate-gray sweater tucked into black slacks that fit her like they were sculpted to her body. She doesn’t smile at me, but something sparks in her eyes the second she sees me.
I stop at the edge of her desk. “Are you heading out, Miss Taylor?”
She nods. “My aunt asked me to have dinner with her tonight. If I don’t leave soon, I’ll be very late.”
“I remember.” I lower my voice. “You told me this morning. At a very inconvenient hour.”
She presses her lips together as if she’s trying not to laugh. Her eyes flick to the side. No one’s watching, but she still keeps her voice low.
“I didn’t hear you complaining.”
“I was trying to conserve oxygen.”
“You’re dramatic.”
I raise a brow. “You’re late.”
“Not yet.”
I reach out and brush a stray curl from her forehead. Just enough contact to make her inhale slightly. Enough to remind her what my hands feel like when we’re not being watched.
“Enjoy your evening,” I say.
She looks up at me. “You too.”
Then she walks off without another word. She doesn’t glance over her shoulder. She doesn’t need to. She already knows I’m watching her, and I will be until the elevator doors close.
Once she’s gone, I turn and head back upstairs.
I don’t like the quiet that waits for me in my office. I pour myself a drink to break it. I don’t sit back down. I just stand there, looking out at the skyline, and try not to think too hard about what’s happening to me.
I don’t get attached. That’s always been the rule.
Women are soft distractions. They’re good for an evening, sometimes even a week. I’ve had the best this city’s had to offer. Models and dancers and Rhodes Scholars. None of them stuck.
But Lyra has somehow snuck her way under my skin, and I get the impression that she has no intention of leaving any time soon. Not that I would want her to. I’ve been just as reluctant to leave her side as she’s been to go.