Page 2

I’ve double-checked so many times I’m worried checking again now will trigger an alert or break something.

I hunch over the desk, my back groaning in protest. Come on, spine! You’re meant to bend; you can hold out a little bit longer. Regardless of my body’s protest, my fingers fly like bullets.

After this—if I survive—I’m taking a break from hacking. A solid week off.

As a hacker, I find an ugly beauty in deleting things. One key press can destroy countries.

One single key—if all goes to plan, that is.

Is this what Oppenheimer felt like, teetering on the edge of something world-ending?

Who am I kidding? This is just a high-stakes hack that could wreck me, not the world.

Just you?

Okay, so many more than me. Hacking puts us in a morally gray zone, where we can come to view controlling an individual’s existence as standard practice.

Is that how Frank started? Shit. Am I turning into him?

I pull back and raise my hands in the air as if I’m guilty. What are you doing, Rylan? Practicing posing for your mug shot? These people don't do mug shots! They do bullets in the head and dig shallow graves in the desert. Do you want vultures picking out your entrails?

That was a little morbid and far too detailed, but watching Game of Thrones has desensitized us far more than people claim BookTok ever could.

Not that I waste time reading. I’m too busy hacking—becoming the trigger warning people fear.

Not a good thing for a hacker. Most of us have blurred morals; cults and secret clubs easily persuade us to join.

No. Never. I’m not doing it for greed. I want freedom. A life under a new identity.

With a firm nod, I lean back over and press my fingers to the keyboard.

Tonight’s hack isn’t just about me. It’s about to shake up a lot of lives.

Don’t worry. They deserve it. After all, some cars need to crash; others need to stay parked for a while. Then there is me. The car my mother parked in the garage when she and Frank ran away with fifty million dollars.

My eyes race over the code as it launches its assault. Line after line, digital bullets fly. Modern warfare isn’t bloody for the one behind the screen. I just press a key and—boom—chaos erupts, miles away from my rickety broken chair, destined for landfill.

Don’t be so dramatic. I wasn’t killing anyone. I was leaving Frank and my mom with no money, and no way to escape.

Do unto others as you want done to yourself, dearest Mommy.

Years of my life have been wasted trying to gain my mother’s affection. A traumatic childhood bonds you—sometimes to your abuser. I never tried to leave. I just kept hoping every job my stepdad Frank forced me to do would make her love me.

Grabbing my phone, I turn up the volume and blast my music out loud, but my fears still roar louder. There’s no chance to relax; there’d be no high after the hack worked, after I got inside the system.

Not this hack. This was unlike anything I’d done before.

Sure, I’d breached government systems, but laws constrained them.

These people answer to no laws. Their world is the Wild West, and only the ruthless survive.

There would be no arrests. No lawyers.

A burning ache fills my lungs with every sharp inhale, but I crave more air. It’s working. I’m in—almost. Seconds tick by, until… bingo! All incoming money alerts are silenced. Frank and Mom are clueless as their account drains. Even if Frank caught on, he couldn’t stop me. For good measure, I hacked their offshore bank, overriding the system. Since it was a shady bank, there was no chance of an insurance company refunding Frank for the stolen money.

I watch as the money fills my bank account. I fucking did it!

Wow, that’s a lot of pennies.