Page 8 of Make Them Cry

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I tap out a new user credential. New key. New alias.

Mask2.0

No. Too stupid.

I delete it.

MakeThemCry

Too obvious.

Then I type:Mask

Because that’s what I am. The update you didn’t see coming. The fix you didn’t ask for. The line of code that changes everything.

I send the test ping to Arrow’s backup server. He replies in seconds.

ARROW:You’re live.

GAGE:Just like old times.

ARROW:Don’t fall in love with her.

GAGE:Too late.

I drop my phone face-down and scrub my hands over my face.

Across the aisle, River’s shoulders are tense. She’s typing with the fury of someone coding her way out of a sinking ship. I’d give anything to walk over there, tilt her chin up, and sayI’ve got this. You don’t have to fight alone anymore.

Instead, I open a new tab. And I start planning.

If they want to make her cry, fine.

I’ll beat them to it.

And I’ll make thembegfor it.

THREE

RIVER

I haven’t blinked in forty-seven seconds.

My eyes are dry. My fingers ache from gripping my phone. The message is still there, glowing in the darkness of my apartment like a dare.

I can make them cry.

Beneath it, a second one just arrived.

But only if you’re willing to break your own rules.

My first rule?Don’t trust anyone.

My second?Especially not people who offer help without a face.

I’m sitting in the middle of my living room floor, hoodie zipped to my chin, legs crossed like I’m pretending to be calm. The shadows from the TV flicker across the walls like something alive. I forgot I left a horror game paused—pixelated blood still smeared across the frame like a warning.Ha-ha. Thematic.

I don’t know why I clicked the message. Or the link. Or thesecondlink that required the VPN I bought on impulse. But Idid. And now I’m in a chat room that shouldn’t exist, talking to someone calledMask, who claims he canfixthis.

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