Page 25 of Dublin Charmer
The code structure is elegant and speaks of someone who thinks in pure binary poetry.
I lean back in my chair, rubbing my tired eyes. The cans from empty energy drinks scattered across my desk mock my failed attempts at staying sharp.
I can’t stop now. Not when I’m this close.
A notification appears on the message board. It’s from CryptoKnight, one of my oldest contacts in the underground hacking community:
CryptoKnight:Dude, send that sequence again. The nested loop structure looks familiar.
I copy-paste the relevant code snippet and add a comment:
Wraith:I swear I’ve seen their work before, but can’t figure out where.
Three dots dance on my screen for what feels like forever, but before he comes back, 4040racle breaks in:
4040racle:Holy shit. That’s Nyx.
My heart skips. Nyx? The hacker who once crashed the London Stock Exchange just to prove she could? She’s a legendary ghost in the machine?
Wraith:Are you sure?
4040racle:100%. See that signature move on the third line? Classic Nyx. Nobody else chains exploits that way. Fucking beautiful.
Wraith:What do you guys know about her?
While I wait for their response, I pull up everything I know about Nyx—which isn’t much. She’s been active for years. Never caught. Never traced. Some say she’s ex-government. Others swear she’s self-taught. The only thing everyone agrees on is that she’s brilliant.
A message pops up from DarkMatrix:
DarkMatrix:Heard she went dark four months ago. No idea why she’d be hitting your systems.
And that’s what I need to figure out.
A hacker of her caliber working for Billy Gravely? It doesn’t add up. Someone like Nyx could name her price with any organization in the world. Why align with a Dublin gangster?
My screen lights up with messages as word spreads through my network. Everyone’s got a Nyx story to tell, but no one has what I need—her real identity.
I crack my knuckles and dive back in, this time following a different approach.
If she’s working with Gravely, she must be somewhere in South Dublin. Physical proximity. I start correlating attack timestamps with local network nodes. Then, I cross-reference that with the intel we get from having eyes on Gravely.
I stare at the map on my screen, trying to figure out what represents my best chance at zeroing in on Nyx’s location. Except my brain is fog and sleep is making a siren’s call, imploring me to hit the sack.
Before I push back from my keyboard, I ensure the network protocols are all working and that my notification alarms are set.
Fine. Tomorrow, then.
Tomorrow I’ll start hunting. Because somewhere in South Dublin, a hacker queen is hiding. I won’t stop until I find out why she’s here and why the fuck she’s playing for the wrong team.
CHAPTER NINE
Finn
Iadjust my bow tie one last time, checking my reflection in the hallway mirror. Another tux, another party. At least this one is just family.
The sound of laughter drifts up from downstairs, along with the clink of glasses and the warm glow of candlelight. Tag’s gone all out tonight—crystal champagne flutes, silver place settings, and enough flowers to fill a greenhouse.
My phone buzzes. A message from my contact confirming that Nyx is on the move. I slip it back in my pocket. Later.
