Hacker • English Version

Chapter 3

Yoko's POV

He threw a backpack on my messy bed and opened the zippers fast. I stepped back, breathing hard. What do people even pack when they're running for their lives? Can I google that? I stood there, staring at the mess in my room, feeling lost.

Faye Malisorn was still alive after 5:00 a.m. I watched the fight through her laptop's webcam, which was sitting on the kitchen counter. My heart was in my throat, and I had my nails digging into my palms. Faye is tall and knows how to fight, but that hitman was huge. He looked like someone who breaks bones for fun. I stood there, wishing Faye had just disappeared so the hitman would find nothing but an empty apartment.

The webcam didn't have sound, but I flinched when the espresso machine crashed to the floor. Shiny pieces of metal flew across the tiles. Faye loved that machine. She's going to be furious. And if she finds me, I bet she'll blame me for everything.

Sending that sat nav... that was too much. Like a final insult. I get it now. But I can't take it back, can I?

Still, I don't regret warning her. Even if it means I'm in danger now. Seeing that hitman fall—God, that was a relief. Faye didn't kill him brutally or make a mess. I like that about her. She's clean. Quick. Efficient. She finishes the job and moves on.

If she finds me... will she kill me quickly too?

Crap. I need to get out of here. Focus, Yoko. Focus.

My brain is jumping all over the place. This is the worst time to be distracted. I need to pack. I need to move. I shouldn't be standing here thinking about Faye's soft lips and those long black lashes. She could be a model. But I have to stop daydreaming before she shows up and ends me.

Would you really do it, Faye? A gun doesn't seem like your style...

Shit. Double shit.

I moved slowly, forcing myself to pack while my brain screamed. Passport, wallet, keys, dice, emergency cash—into the backpack. Then a spare tank top and three pairs of plain white underwear.

Hairbrush. Deodorant. Toothbrush. Toothpaste. Soap.

Do I need a gun? What if she comes here? Would I even be able to use it?

I'm not ready for this. I was too focused on Faye. Now I'm in deep trouble with no plan. Just a stupid crush.

I dug through my drawers and found my old pocketknife. Then I added a plastic lighter I use for candles. It's almost empty. It looks like a joke weapon. But it's all I have. I'm a hacker, not a fighter. My kitchen has nothing useful—I don't even cook. I don't even own a cheese grater.

I rushed to the cupboard, grabbed three packs of instant noodles, stuffed them in, and zipped the backpack shut. Time to go. Now. Every second counts. She could be getting closer.

I swung the backpack onto my shoulders and was about to move when my phone buzzed in my pocket.

I froze. My heart thumped loud. Then I lied to myself.

Maybe it's just Marissa. Or a spam call.

With shaky hands, I pulled out my phone. I should've ignored it, but some messed-up part of me wanted to hear her voice.

"Hello, Yuna."

Her voice was low and warm. Like we were old friends catching up. But an old friend wouldn't call me that name.

I licked my lips.

"Actually, it's Yoko."

"Yoko," she repeated softly. Like we were sitting across from each other at breakfast. Like she was smiling.

"You did a hell of a job with my tech, Yoko," she said. "If you hadn't made yourself known like that, I might never have known you were watching."

Ah. There's the bite. There's the anger I expected.

"Sorry about your espresso machine," I whispered.

There was a pause. Then she said, "You saw what happened."

I didn't answer. She already knew.

"Do you watch me often, Yoko?" Her voice was sharp but curious too. Like the mafia wanted to figure me out before stepping on me like a bug.

"Sometimes," I said. My voice was rough, so I cleared my throat. "I like watching you cook. All I eat is instant noodles."

She gave a soft laugh. It sent chills down my back. It was dangerous. I shouldn't have felt warm and tingly from it.

"That's an invasion of my privacy, Yoko."

I wrinkled my nose.

"I know."

What can I say? I'm a hacker. I live in people's private lives. I thought Faye, of all people, would get that.

People like us deal with secrets every day. That's our world. But I guess it's only okay when she's the one doing it.

"I'm hanging up now," I said. I had to end the call. If she knew my number, she probably knew where I lived too. This whole call was just a trap. A trick to stall me. "If you don't cause me any trouble, I won't hurt you either."

It wasn't just a threat. I had months of info on her. Things she wouldn't want out. She doesn't follow the law. I could ruin her life—if I stayed alive long enough.

She inhaled slowly. I walked toward my front door, digging through my purse for the key. Why did I put it in first and bury it under everything? I'm useless at this.

"That's a shame," Faye said, almost like she was talking to herself. "I could've used your skills, Yoko. I would've paid well. But I can't stand being insulted."

Found it! I shoved the key into the lock, twisted it fast. One of the noodle packets fell to the floor. I kicked it aside without looking.

I always lock myself in when I'm home. My building is full of rich men, and I don't trust any of them. They all hate me. I walk around in sweatpants and beat-up sneakers just to annoy them. It's one reason I picked this place. Making them mad is fun.

The door opened. The hallway was empty. Beige walls. Fake palm trees. She wasn't here. Good. That's not like her—she's usually one step ahead.

"Goodbye, Faye."

"Wait..."

"I'm glad you're not dead," I said. "Don't trust your cousin Noknoi."

Then I hung up.

I opened my call log, grabbed a pen from my purse, and scribbled her number on the back of my hand in messy blue ink. I knew that number. Her personal line. She didn't even block it. Is she being careless... or does she want me to have it?

Never mind.

I threw my phone back into the apartment, slammed the door, and locked it.

I just need a few days to hide.

To think.

In a few days, Faye Malisorn will forget all about me.

As long as I don't call her again.