Page 25 of Sypher

The smooth leather texture of my coat was familiar as I reached for it and shrugged it on.

“Where are you going?”

“Back to the clubhouse.”

“Montana will just throw you back in the mailroom.”

“I don’t fucking care.”

Reaching for my arm and with surprising strength, Ace shoved me hard against the rough brick wall, his sneer twisting his features into a cruel mask. “Yes, you do. You can’t stand being contained. I’m sorry I stole your program, but I didn’t have a choice.”

My eyes blazed as I glared at him, spitting his own words back at him with venom. “Yes, you did. You always had a choice.”

With a hard shove, I pushed him away and stormed out, the jarring sound of the door slamming behind me a final punctuation mark.

To escape him, I fled the Harbor on 5thand wandered the city streets. The pungent smell of exhaust fumes and street food filled my nostrils while my mind raced with the disastrous implications of my brother’s actions. Each step I took was a desperate attempt to put distance between us.

Every belief I held dear shattered, replaced by the bitter taste of betrayal and the chilling realization of deception. He played me cleverly. His skillful deception completely ensnared me. I fell into his trap without a second thought.

Disbelief washed over me that I failed to notice all the numerous clues and signs that should have been obvious to me. Of course he used my fucking design. It was the fucking best. It took a bold, daring, egotistical maniac to best the world’s most dangerous hacker, who just happened to be connected to the notorious Golden Skulls. On top of everything else, I knew Ace was fully aware of the additional work I did for extra cash. While I toiled alongside other unsavory characters in the shadowyunderworld, I bet the fucking farm that Ace monitored and recorded all my clandestine dealings.

And not just biker clubs, either.

Fuck me.

Ace had to know that I possessed privileged information about all the individuals operating within the criminal underworld. My own fucking brother deliberately marked me as a target and did so willingly despite knowing the consequences.

What I did know was that my brother screwed me.

Literally and figuratively.

Reaching into my pocket, my fingers brushed against the smooth, cool surface of my phone as I sent out a secured text to the only person I knew who could help me get out of this fucking mess.

Me:I want my cut.

Reaper:Welcome home… brother.

Chapter Ten

Sypher

August 4, 2023, Pippen’s apartment, New York City.

In the weeks that followed, I stayed with Dante, watching him, caring for him like he had done for me many times. I listened intently, absorbing the weight of his ordeal as he recounted his experiences, his words tumbling out in a rush.

Honestly though, rather than providing a solution or finding a way to ease his growing agitation, his entire truth only fueled my anger even more. Ultimately, the sole means of mitigating my anger proved to be my unwavering resolve to rectify the issue the only way I knew how, and wipe that place off the fucking earth.

To do that, I needed to summon every ounce of my skill, the thing I did better than anything else. The only issue I faced was attempting to hack into my system. Ace had slyly added a back door that thwarted my every move. My own brother weaponized my program, the code I had painstakingly written, against me, a betrayal that stung. With a sigh of defeat, I conceded and built a new program, a fresh start after countless hours of troubleshooting. A superior program, one with enhanced features and a sleeker interface that would override his current one. The task was far more time-consuming than I’d hoped, but I was determined to finish it—then it would be game over.

In the meantime, I was swamped with the constant stream of club activities Reaper had been assigning me, each one more demanding than the last.

I swear, the instant I sent that text, an avalanche of jobs bombarded me, each notification a sharp sting, making my head spin with the sheer number of club requests and responsibilities. The pressure was immense. I was stretched thin between Pop’s cryptic thumb drive, Reaper’s frantic search for Petrovitch’s goons, and my other demanding clients. The air crackled with tension, and I felt the exhaustion in my bones.

Something had to give soon.

The heavy metal of Five Finger Death Punch pounded in my ears while I typed, the vibrations traveling through my headphones and into my bones. A smile spread across my face when Dante’s comforting presence enveloped me from behind.

His lips brushed my neck, sending a shiver down my spine. I paused my work, removed my headphones, and closed my eyes to savor the moment.

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