Except…
Oh god.There was a message three months back.
It had popped up in the middle of a whirlwind trip with Alyssa—twenty-four hours in Vancouver for a UN side-conference. She’d been exhausted, boarding the plane when she saw the message. It said he’d changed emails and that if anything from her past resurfaced, she needed to click the link to stay connected so he could fix it.
At the time, it had seemed reasonable. She was in a rush, the gate was closing, and she’d clicked before her mind could argue.
Afterward, the memory blurred by lack of sleep, became fuzzy, like her mind had been scrubbed too.
But that was what he promised—peace of mind, no trails, no fear.
And she’d paid him a month’s worth of tips for it.
Now, she realized—with a sick twist in her gut—that she hadn’t paid a faceless hacker for safety.
It was a dumb move. The stupidest thing she’d ever done, and the biggest mistake she’d ever made.
Because now she knew that she’d been used by Cipher.
He was the one she trusted to bury her secrets…
And now he was using them to bury her.
Her mind reeled. Her stomach pitched again, but there was nothing in it to expel. Still, she bowed her head, panting with nausea and despair.
“Yes, little stripper. He told me that too.”
Her stomach heaved. “Told you what?”
His lips quirked in a hideous smile. “That you paid him to wipe out your work history.”
This man was being paid to tear her apart piece by piece.
The man grinned wider. “So let’s see it.”
She blinked at him. “W-what?”
“You heard me.” He squashed out his cigarette on the dry floor. “Strip. Dance. Just like you used to.” He leaned in, voice low and oily, bringing the odor of smoke and unwashed clothes.
“N-no.” She forced the word through her frozen lips.
“I suppose I could shoot you in the leg and wait for the next guy to show up. And I promise, he won’t want a performance. Just pieces.”
She shook her head slowly. “No.”
He stood. Cocked the gun and pointed it directly at her shin. “One.”
Don’t give him the satisfaction.But her muscles locked. Her heart thundered.
“Two.”
Tears burned her eyes.
Dante, please…help.
“Three.”
“I’ll do it!” she choked. “Just…don’t shoot.”