Hacker • English Version

Chapter 2

Faye's POV

Someone messed with me. That means someone is going to die.

My day has already started badly. One of my best informants at the police station got caught stealing documents. Then, my favorite cooking show was canceled. I'm not in a good mood.

The first alert comes from my personal phone. My very personal one. I quickly grab it from my nightstand and turn off the alarm. But then, the rest of my devices start ringing.

All of them.

My laptop is beeping loudly from the kitchen. All my phones are ringing, volume at the max. Even my smartwatch is vibrating and blinking from the office.

What the hell is going on?

Do I look like someone who enjoys stupid jokes? Have I ever seemed soft? I don't like violence just for fun like other mafia people, but that's a choice. It's not fear.

Whoever did this... they will suffer. I will make sure of it.

This is my home. My space. These are my things. Someone hacked all my devices—for what? To wake me up? To make me lose a little sleep?

I swipe away another alert, annoyed. But then I finally read what they said. All of them.

"I'm being murdered. 5AM."

Well.

If this is a joke, it's creepy. If it's not... who warns me like this? Everyone I know would call me. They wouldn't hack my smartwatch and phone.

Still, this is a serious invasion. Even if they're right, they'll pay for it. I rub my eyes and start thinking.

Who would want me dead?

Plenty of people.

But who has the guts to actually try?

Not many.

It's almost 5AM. I need to think fast.

I yawn, my jaw cracking from the stretch. Then I grab my razor and head to the shower, still holding my personal phone.

Am I going to die in ten minutes? Probably not. But I need to wake up, and a hot shower helps me think clearly.

Also... I'm not meeting a killer in pajama pants.

── ✦ ──

I'm standing outside a warehouse by the city docks. My arms are crossed, and the cold, salty wind plays with my hair. The sun is rising, a thin red line in the sky. Waves crash below the stone walls.

"This is bullshit," Noknoi says.

He's my cousin. He's standing beside me, also with his arms crossed like mine. He always copies me. He even has the same dark bags under his eyes.

"Did he show up at your apartment? That's personal, Faye."

Obviously. But isn't any murder attempt personal?

I frown at the oil barrel sitting near the edge of the dock. Two of our guys are stuffing it with bricks to weigh it down. The last thing I want is the body floating up later in some shipping lane.

"How did you know I was coming?" Noknoi asks.

The hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I glance at him, but he's not looking at me. He's giving orders to our helpers. The sun is rising quickly. We all have work to do.

I only called him because he's in charge of cleanup. I thought he'd make this faster.

Now I'm not so sure.

—I always know.

That's not true. But he doesn't need to know that. Part of my job is keeping some mystery. People confess faster when they think I already know everything. Noknoi has always been jealous of me. He hates doing cleanup. He thinks it's beneath him.

—And I'll know about the next one too. I'll find out who's sending them.

Noknoi shifts nervously. Sweat drips down his forehead. He still won't look at me. My eyes narrow.

"What do you think I'll do to them, Nok?" I ask quietly.

He shrugs, but it's stiff.

—You'll erase them, Faye.

—Exactly.

It's just a gut feeling. Not proof. I won't kill my cousin based on a feeling. Not in broad daylight. Not next to the body we just dumped. That's sloppy. And the boss wouldn't like it.

But if I'm right... Noknoi won't be around much longer.

I felt sorry for him. He's always been pathetic. Droopy face, annoying voice. But that hitman broke my espresso machine.

I loved that machine. It was imported from Milan.

I place a hand on Noknoi's shoulder and squeeze it gently.

—Take the day off, Nok. You look tired.

We both watch as our guys push the barrel off the dock. It rolls over the stone, then splashes into the water. Bubbles rise... then nothing.

I'm still holding his shoulder. He wants to push me away. He won't.

"I'm fine," he says. "I'm fine."

The waves shimmer in the early morning light, like cold steel.

"I want a trace," I tell him. "IP address, phone number, social security. Everything. Send someone to my house at eight."

He sighs. "Sure, Faye." He looks older now. But I didn't make him old. He chose this mess.

"Need a cleaning crew at your place too?"

—Just my usual lady. —I already got rid of the blood. No big signs left. My regular cleaner can handle the rest.

She's smart. Quiet. Not like some people.

And I need her pierogies today.

It's barely sunrise and I've already dumped a body. Someone hacked my GPS. My espresso machine is broken. Honestly, sometimes I wonder if this life is even worth it.

That feeling's getting stronger today.

But no time to cry over it.

I still have a hacker to find.