Page 22 of Hunt Me
You’re bluffing. Playing games because I’ve got you cornered.
Cornered? Baby, I’m in your northeast server cluster right now. The one you think is air gapped. Want to know what file I’m currently reading?
My blood goes cold.
I pull up the monitoring system for our most secure network. The one that’s physically isolated from everything else. The one that’s supposed to be impossible to?—
There.
A ghost signature, barely visible. Moving through classified files like she owns the place.
Like she’s been there all along.
Impressed yet?Her next message asks.Or should I keep demonstrating exactly how little you know?
My hands freeze over the keyboard.
She’s right. About all of it. The yearbook, the trail—too easy. I should have known the moment I found her that it was exactly what she wanted me to find.
But there’s something else in her messages. Something underneath the taunting words and casual demonstrations of superiority.
Want to know what file I’m currently reading?
She’s asking. Showing off. Proving a point with the desperation of someone who needs me to understand exactly how outmatched I am.
Which means I rattled her.
Somewhere between finding her yearbook photo and tracking her address, I got under her skin enough that she had to respond. Had to prove she’s still ten steps ahead. Had to make certain I knew she was in control.
People who are in control don’t need to demonstrate it quite so thoroughly.
I lean back in my chair, studying her messages with new eyes. The pattern’s there, written between every carefully chosen taunt.
She’s showing me her hand.
Not intentionally—she’s too smart for that. But the Phantom, who’s spent months breaching our security without leaving a trace, doesn’t suddenly reveal herself at a gala for no reason. Doesn’t use her real name unless she wants to be found.
And now she’s proving she can access our most secure systems in real-time because she needs me to know.
Needs me to see her.
My pulse steadies. The rage crystallizes into something sharper, more focused.
Because here’s what I know for certain: she’s the only person I’ve ever encountered who might be better at this than me. The only one who can dance through my security like it’s nothing, leave traces I can barely detect, and exploit vulnerabilities I didn’t know existed.
All this time chasing her, and I’ve learned more about my own weaknesses than the previous three years combined.
She’s brilliant. Possibly more brilliant than me, and that realization should terrify me.
Instead, it feels like finding something I didn’t know I’d been searching for.
I type slowly, deliberately.
You’re right. I’m impressed. No one’s ever gotten that deep into our systems. No one’s ever made me work this hard.
The dots appear immediately. Disappear. Appear again.
She’s typing and deleting. Uncertain for the first time.
