Page 121 of Knight

“You know how to contact me if you need anything.”

I glance at him. “Decided you’re not coming up, after all?”

“We both know you’d rather I didn’t.”

I don’t argue. I need space.Myspace.

“And anyway, I have places to be, systems to break into.” He pats my shoulder, the one that doesn’t have a bullet hole. “Stay safe.”

“Always.”

The elevator doors open, and I step inside. Victor has already walked out of my building by the time they close.

When they open again onto my apartment floor, I’m greeted by darkness. My systems are dormant, save for the essential ones keeping the building secure. I initiate the unlock sequence, every movement pulling at my stitches, and go straight to my workspace as soon as I’m inside.

The first thing I do is reboot my systems. The hum of machinery fills the space as the servers power up, their lights casting faint, familiar glows across the room. The monitors flicker to life one by one, displaying system statuses, network feeds, and the ever-present security cameras.

The hours bleed together after that. I throw myself into my work, reconfiguring firewalls, analyzing vulnerabilities, and running simulations. Anything to keep my mind occupied. The pain in my shoulder and side is a dull throb now, background noise to the sharp ache of everything I’ve lost. Or pushed away, anyway. My fingers hover over the keyboard more often than I’dlike to admit, tempted to send her a message. A single line, just to check she’s okay. But I don’t.

It’s Michael who interrupts my cycle. His message comes through late one night, a week after I came home. It’s delivered via an encrypted message through a channel reserved for people wanting to hire me. A week. I stare at his name blinking on the screen.

I need your help.

I hesitate, my mind spinning all sorts of scenarios in my head, before finally typing.

With what?

Training. I need to learn how to protect myself. How to stop them from ever doing it again.

I know what he’s referring to. The way they exploited his skills, and used him to target others. It’s not a simple request. It’s a door I’m not even sure I want to open.

Tomorrow. 10 A.M.

The first session is simple. I teach him the basics of firewall manipulation, and the weaknesses in common encryption. But it doesn’t take long before the elephant in the room steps into the light.

"You broke her heart," he says during a break, voice quiet but steady.

The words are a blunt confirmation of what I’ve been avoiding.

"We’re not talking about her."

"How can we not? You can’t just … pretend she doesn’t exist. Not with what you did."

I lean back, forcing myself to breathe through the tension building in my chest.

"If I’m going to train you, that’s the rule. Wedon’ttalk about her. Pick now. Training or your sister. You don’t get both."

Michael’s jaw tightens, but after a moment, he nods. "Fine."

It’s a fragile truce, one I’m not sure will hold, but it’s enough to get us through the session. Each keystroke, each line of code, is like fortifying walls. His against future attacks, mine against the mess I’ve made of everything else. Training him is more than teaching; it’s self-preservation. If I can keep him from being used again, maybe I’m not entirely the villain here.

And then the first visit happens three days later.

My security feed pings, warning me of movement in the lobby.

Eva.

She’s standing just inside the door, arms crossed, phone in her hand. Of course she’d show up now. Like I haven’t spent the last few days trying to forget the way she looked when I pushed her away. Forgetting clearly isn’t working.

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