If you ever find yourself slamming your laptop and screaming at the screen because someone outsmarted you… maybe just take the L. Or, you know, spiral into a vengeful breakdown and plot a series of terrible decisions. Your call.
Something flickered on the far-right monitor. A breach attempt. Skylar frowned, the cigarette bobbing slightly between her lips. "Well, that's new," she muttered, inhaling deeply, smoke swirling around her like fog. Her fingers started moving, fast and deliberate, eyes fixed on the lines of code as she began to counterattack. It was almost impressive. Almost. Whoever was trying to break into her system was good—methodical, patient, and surprisingly subtle. But not subtle enough. Not for her.
Her fingers danced over the keyboard, rapid and confident, punching through firewalls like they were suggestions, not barriers. Whoever it was, they were digging. Not just poking around, but ripping chunks out of her private directories, clawing through her security layers. A grin spread wider across her face. "Oh, you want to play?" she muttered under her breath, tapping in a string of code like she was entering cheat codes for a video game.
Skylar activated a failsafe. The screen flickered, and a second feed opened up—one she had hidden deep in the back of her system. A live camera feed popped up. Someone moving. Someone familiar.
She stared at the grainy image for a second, then let out a deep, exasperated sigh. "Urgh... fucking hell," she muttered, rubbing her temple like she was dealing with a toddler mid-tantrum. "Travis... you dumb son of a bitch."
She didn't flinch. She didn't panic. Her brain registered the attack like it was just another item on her to-do list. Her fingers never slowed. Instead, she started planting traps. Redirect loops, mirrored backdoors, encryption clusters that folded in on themselves like digital origami. Travis had kicked the hornet's nest. And Skylar was the hornet.
She tapped a few more keys, leaned back in her chair, and took a long drag from the cigarette, exhaling slowly as she watched her traps unfold in real-time. Travis thought he was slipping into her system unnoticed. He didn't know she had just tagged his location, mirrored his IP, and planted a worm in his hardware that would let her track him in real-time for the next 48 hours.
Skylar smirked, watching his frantic attempts to bypass her latest firewall. It was like watching a child try to unlock a vault with a plastic key. She tapped a key, and the firewall folded over itself, creating three more layers, each encrypted with a different algorithm. The screen flashed red on his end. Access Denied.
"Oh, sweetie," she murmured, stubbing out her cigarette. "You're not even close." She picked up her phone and dialed. It rang twice before Taz picked up.
"I have something interesting for you," she said cheerfully, smoke curling around her words.Taz's voice came through, low and steady. "You sound like you just won the lottery."Skylar rolled her eyes, taking another slow drag of her cigarette. "Please. Lotteries are for amateurs. I just caught the world's dumbest stalker red-handed. That's way more satisfying."Taz chuckled darkly. "Where is he?""Sitting like an idiot in front of his laptop, trying to break into my system," she said, almost laughing. "Honestly, I half expected him to use his real name as his password. I have his location, his IP, and a live feed."Taz chuckled darkly. "You tagged him? Does he know that?"Skylar inhaled slowly, flicking ash onto the floor. "Of course I did. What am I, a fucking rookie?" She leaned back comfortably, watching the monitor flicker. "And obviously not. He's still hammering away like a toddler with a keyboard. It's almost sad."Taz snorted. "I'll be there in ten."
Skylar flicked her cigarette, watching the ash tumble to the floor. "Take your time. He's not going anywhere." She smirked, tapping one last command to scramble his signal—just enough to frustrate him, just enough to make him sweat. "Oops," she whispered mockingly, watching his signal flicker. "Did the big bad hacker just lose his connection? How sad." She leaned back, crossed her legs on the desk, and watched the chaos unfold with a lazy grin. Travis was slamming his keyboard, connection dropping and restarting every three seconds. To him, it must have felt like his system was glitching. But to Skylar, it was a symphony. Her symphony.
"You keep trying, asshole," she murmured. Her eyes flicked to the second monitor, where a live GPS trace was drawing lines across the map. Every attempt Travis made pinged his location again, locking him tighter in her web. You're mine now, she thought with a grin. She spun in her chair, stretching her arms above her head, feeling the tension crack out of her spine. The trailer was silent, except for the hum of processors and the quiet tick of wires syncing data. Skylar picked up her energy drink, cracked it open, and took a long, satisfying sip.
"Now," she said to herself, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "Let's see if you can dance." Her fingers flew across the keyboard, activating her secondary protocols. The worm she'd planted in Travis' system began to siphon data, pulling encrypted files, hidden folders, and anything else it could sink its teeth into. She watched the numbers climb: 5%, 10%, 12%...
Her grin widened. You're bleeding, Travis. And you don't even know it yet.
Travis sat hunched over his laptop, eyes bloodshot and hands clenched tight around the edges of the keyboard. Lines of code flickered across the screen, flashing red with every failed attempt. Access Denied. Access Denied. Access Denied.
"Goddamnit!" he roared, slamming his fist against the table. The laptop jumped, wires rattling against the edge. Owen flinched from across the room but said nothing. He'd seen Travis like this before. It never ended well. Travis's breathing was ragged, shallow. He stared at the screen, eyes blazing with a mixture of fury and desperation. He was locked out. Again. Skylar's traps were relentless—layer upon layer of encryption that folded back on itself, mocking him. Every time he thought he'd broken through, another barrier sprang up, seamless and impenetrable.
He rubbed his hands over his face, fingers digging into his eyes. "She's not better," he muttered, almost a whisper. "She's not."
Owen cleared his throat carefully. "Did you hack her?" Travis's jaw clenched so hard his teeth ached. "Damnit! No, she keeps blocking me out."
Owen sighed, leaning back against the wall. "So she's better at this... We knew that."
"SHE'S NOT BETTER," Travis exploded, standing so abruptly his chair screeched against the floor. "She's just... she's just playing games. That's all. I can take her."
Owen raised his hands in surrender. "Okay... sure. But maybe... maybe you could try something else? Something less... digital."
Travis paced, hands on his hips, eyes scanning the room like the walls were closing in. His fingers flexed, restless. "No," he murmured, more to himself than to Owen. "No, this isn't over. She wants to play games? Fine. We'll play." Owen watched him silently. There was a tension building in Travis, the kind that never ended well. He'd seen it before. The spiraling, the desperation. The need to dominate something... someone. "You sure about that?"
Travis turned to him, eyes wild. "If I can't get to her... I'll get to Reagan." His voice was sharp, decisive. "Skylar wants to block me out? She wants to think she's so fucking clever? We'll see how clever she is when Reagan is bleeding."
Owen's eyes widened slightly. "You really think that's a good idea?" Travis stepped closer, his eyes blazing with raw fury. "It's the only idea. I can't touch Skylar. Not yet. But Reagan... Reagan is mine."
Owen hesitated, then nodded slowly. He knew better than to argue. Travis was unraveling. And there was no stopping him now.
The tension in the room was suffocating. Travis's fingers drummed against the edge of the laptop, the rhythm uneven, impatient. He didn't just want to hurt Reagan—he needed to. Skylar's little game had pushed him too far, and now someone was going to pay for it. Owen watched him silently, eyes flicking to the door, half expecting Travis to bolt out of it at any second. The air felt heavy, saturated with desperation and something darker. Something inevitable.
"We do this tonight," Travis finally said, voice flat and unyielding. "I'm done waiting."
Owen smiled nodded. He knew there was no stopping Travis now. Not when he was like this. Not when the threads of control had already snapped. Not that he wanted too
Owen didn't flinch. He straightened up from the wall, cracking his knuckles. "So, what's the plan?"
Travis's eyes gleamed. "We go through her system. I know where the weak points are. If we time it right, we can bypass her motion sensors. Rocco's men switch guard at three in the morning. There's a two-minute window where the rotation leaves the back entrance exposed."
Owen smirked. "I like two-minute windows. Makes it fun." Travis stepped closer, voice low. "We take what we need. And when we're done... she'll know she's not untouchable."
Owen grinned, stretching his neck until it popped. "Guess it's time we remind them who really runs this shit." The tension in the room was suffocating. Travis's fingers drummed against the edge of the laptop, the rhythm uneven, impatient. He didn't just want to hurt Reagan—he needed to. Skylar's little game had pushed him too far, and now someone was going to pay for it.
Owen moved towards the window, pulling the curtain back just enough to look outside. "Rocco's men patrol in pairs," he said quietly. "If we time it right, we can hit them hard and fast."
Travis nodded. "We do this tonight," he finally said, voice flat and unyielding. "I'm done waiting."
Owen's grin stretched wider. "Finally," he muttered. "Something worth fighting for."
They exchanged a look—one of understanding, of shared violence—and then they moved. Preparations were quick, ruthless, efficient. They were ready. They had always been ready. Tonight, Reagan would understand what desperation really looked like.