𝐌𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐌𝐚𝐝𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬

32 | We're Reaching the Melting Point

TOM

"I'm waiting for some cryptic email from Priya ready to come and fuck me up for framing her... But she hasn't said anything at all. She hasn't sent me jobs either... It's just radio silence," Y/N shrugged from the dining table, tapping away at her laptop.

"You know Priya wouldn't be dumb enough to say she knows it was you. It would incriminate her if the feds found an email attacking you... She's probably too busy plotting to move the other side of the world by now," I scoffed.

"Aren't you going to send one of your guys to, clean up after me?" She asked looking up with a worried look.

I assured her that I had everything under control. It was sort of true I guess, I had arranged for some of my guys to start tracking Priya but she was a hard cookie to catch. Once they were able to track her usual day to day whereabouts, they could then start to figure out an optimal time to kill her.

But!

There's a federal investigation going on at the moment so it'll be significantly more difficult to find a good time to kill her. It's just- I hate her. I don't know the bitch and I hate her. Why did Y/N pick her of all people?

"C'mere for a second," y/N said waving me over with her hand, still staring at her laptop screen.

Doing as I was told like a good dog, I got up off the couch and stood next to her at the table. She had been on her laptop all day, like she is most days; doing god knows what. Today, she had a cardboard box filled with random shit she had bought at a local hardware store, looking like a kid making a shitty science project.

Without looking away from her screen, she reached up towards my thigh and tugged at my jeans, which I chuckled at. Typical little horny fucker.

"Pants off?" I laughed, not understanding why she was being so coy about this, normally she just tells me she wants me and needs my cock.

"Pants off," she repeated, answering my rhetorical question perfectly.

And with those magic words, I slipped my tracksuit pants off and let them fall to the floor. Trying to kick them off my ankles, I hoped on one foot whilst stretching the elastic cuff around my ankle monitor before tossing them aside.

"That was a little dramatic," she chuckled, turning behind her to see where I had thrown my pants.

"I'm excited, so what?" I laughed.

"What? Oh, Tom no. This isn't sexual, I'm sorry I should have explained what I wanted first," she said looking awfully apologetic.

Y/N then told me to lift up my ankle onto the chair next to her, tapping the seat with her hand. I did as she asked, standing in my underwear confused as all hell. She squinted at her laptop before rubbing her hands together eagerly, then pressing a few keys before turning to my ankle monitor.

"What are you doing?" I asked, watching her grab what looked like a straightened out paper clip from the table and start to pry open the plastic casing of the monitor.

"Shut up, I only have a minute," she snapped at me, placing the plastic cover on the table, now exposing the wiring inside the monitor itself. She reached for the lighter next, flicking it on before holding the little metal wire into the flame.

Using her pinky to hold the wire into the flame whilst also still holding the lighter, she reached for little nail clipper looking things. I just watched her like a kid, not knowing what the fuck she was trying to do. I heard the clippers make a snip sound before she dropped them in her lap and took the wire again in her once again free hand. She took a deep breath and poked the hot metal into the monitor case. Again, I wasn't sure what exactly she was doing.

"Fuck! Okay, Jesus Christ... That was so much pressure," she said leaning her head back and taking a deep breath.

"You looked like you were defusing a bomb darling, what exactly are you doing to me?" I chuckled, watching her look at her laptop and ignoring me completely. Except for telling me to shush and holding her finger up at me.

A flood of numbers appeared to scroll along her screen; which looked like binary code to me, yet to her it was a whole cohesive language. She scanned for a specific 'sentence' of numbers and squealed, throwing her arms up in the air and almost jumping out of her seat before turning to me grinning.

"What are we excited about?" I laughed in confusions

"We're excited that you're allowed to leave house arrest without alerting the authorities, that's what we're excited about," she said smugly.

No fucking way.

Almost wetting myself in excitement, I begged for her to tell me what she had done to the monitor. I mean, these are federal trackers, they're impossible to hack. She went on to explain that yes, they were impossible to hack because the government mainframe was like a fucking maze. But, the wiring of the monitor itself was fragile and easy to cut.

She further explained to me that she had discovered that the government systems were so hard to hack because they change every four hours. But, if there's an alert that goes off, it changes within the minute before authorities are contacted. Hence the one minute timeframe of snipping the wires.

She said that cutting the ankle monitor off my ankle wouldn't have worked because it would trigger the alerts. And because you can't reattach it to stop the alerts, the police would be contacted. That's where the weird paper clip thing and my lighter came in.

Once she snipped the wires, the sixty seconds of mainframe changes started and the countdown began before authorities were contacted. She used the hot metal, which I know know was lead, to weld the spot where the wires used to be. Apparently lead has one of the lowest melting points for a metal, being 327 degrees Celsius. And my trusty Zippo lighter? That burns at around 800 degrees.

So the welded blob of metal then tricks the system to think none of the wires are detached at all, because metal conducts electricity just the same as the wire used to. Whilst the system was down, she had her little geek pal Dexter create a counterfeit GPS location system that would feed into their database the same way my ankle monitor would be doing. So, after the sixty seconds is up and the mainframe reloads, they think I'm sitting here at home being a good boy like usual.

It's safe to say that my girlfriend is a genius.