Page 13 of Filthy Little Fix
The man in glasses sighs, defeated, and begins to scroll the laptop screen, following the physical pages the other, pale one, was already trying to organize and read.
The two scan the lines of code with inefficient haste. They crumple the papers on the floor, their breaths held captive intheir throats amidst the frantic clicking of the keyboard and the muffled whir of the laptops' fans. Mr. D's silence manages to be more menacing than shouts, and he doesn't take his eyes off them.
Dante scrapes the tip of his polished shoe on the floor, stopping millimeters from the man in glasses' hand. "You have three seconds to tell me what you're seeing, or I will rip every tooth from your mouth."
The man swallows hard. "Mr. Dante, I… I don't… I don't see anything unusual here. The backup script is standard, line 400 is a… a cache cleanup command."
I make an effort to sit cross-legged on the floor, leaning my tired back against the wall. The two library rats flinch even at that. "You reek of disinfectant and you're unqualified," I say. "It's not line 400; it's whatshouldbe on line 400. Look for an empty function."
Dante's eyes turn to me. The rage is still there—I suspect it never leaves his face—but the interest isn't just a spark anymore. The man in glasses, almost in a panic, scrolls the screen forcefully, nearly abrading the laptop's touchpad. The other one, finally understanding, shoves the papers aside and leans over his partner's laptop.
He says, "Here, Mr. Dante! The function is empty. It shouldn't be."
Dante doesn't look at the nerds. He looks at me. Serious.
He pulls his cell phone from the inner pocket of his jacket. Without a word, Dante gestures to Luca. The hulking man strides forward, grabbing one of the nerds by the collar, hoisting him to his feet.
"Get them out," Dante orders. "And make sure no one breathes a word of this."
Luca drags the second nerd, who practically trips over himself in his haste to escape. The two library rats are shovedout of the room, holding their laptops as if it were their most beloved thing. Maybe it really was.
The heavy door thuds shut, and I'm once more alone in the sudden silence.
SIX
DANTE
Two idiots.Incompetent. Frustration boils in my veins. Not with them, not truly. They're just tools. My rage is more directed at whatever forced me toneedthem. And at the pathetic distraction still tied up, projecting a satisfaction that irritates me, and, to my disgust, intrigues me.
Ignoring Nyx for a second—because if I looked at him any longer, my goddamn patience would explode—I dial Dmitry's number. My youngest brother. Cooler-headed, less prone to punching a motherfucker until he stops breathing.
"Dmitry," I say, without greeting him. "We found the vulnerability. It's a backup script. Nyx was right."
A brief silence on the other end of the line. Dmitry isn't easily surprised, but I can feel his tension. "The New York hacker? How does he know about this?"
My eyes turn back to my office door. Nyx is probably still in that same position, slumped against the wall, motionless, like a sculpture of provocation. His pants stained with his sickening reactions to pain.
At least he wasn't hard anymore.
"It's a long story," I reply, my voice hoarser than I wanted. "I want the perimeter reinforced, triple the patrols. No one comes in or out without my permission. This place needs to be a tomb."
"Understood," Dmitry says. "Do you need me to come there?"
Dmitry's presence would be useful. He's quick, efficient. But the thought of pulling him from whatever he was doing, just to seeNyxlook at him with the same irritating curiosity he gives me… it'stoo much. I don't want my brother anywhere near that lunatic.
"No," I say. "I'll handle things here. Svetlana's in the country too, so don't worry. Just keep me informed of any suspicious movement. And… prep the jet."
"For what?"
"In case I need a distraction to burn."
I'd love to set fire to something. To imagine Nyx there, his worthless smile melting away.
I hang up before Dmitry can respond. What a nightmare.
I walk backinto the room alone. Luca is outside, supervising security with my other men.Good. Fewer witnesses to this aberration.
I push the door open, and the screech of metal against concrete echoes in the warehouse.
