Page 35 of To Love a Monster
I pull up the feed.The screen on my phone flares to life in my palm.Her bedroom camera shows she’s silent, still curled beneath the sheets, hair spilling across the pillow, one arm half-tucked under her cheek.Peaceful and completely unaware.
A beat of need pulses through me like blood through a wound.I want to go back.Slide beneath the sheets, press my mouth to her spine and breathe her name into her skin.I want to be there when her eyes open.But now isn’t the time.
This is the moment I’ve been waiting for.So I cross the lawn like smoke, every step measured.Every movement made with purpose.
Carl’s living room window still bears the wreckage of what I did to it.Glass shattered, jagged teeth along the edges.I don’t need to pry anything open, don’t need to force my way in.I reach up, tug a jagged shard of glass from the edge of the frame, and let it fall into the grass with a soft clink.One boot up on the ledge, then I swing myself through, careful, controlled.And just like that, I’m inside.
The air still carries the faint trace of Lila’s perfume, her scent, woven between the sharp tang of cologne and old whiskey.I smell her in his house, and it makes something in me burn.Every inch of this place feels wrong.But that’s why I’m here.To tear the truth from it.
I move through the space like a storm waiting to strike, fingerprints gloved, mind sharp, absorbing every detail as I go.It’s my first time inside, but I already know the layout.I’ve studied it from the outside.Counted steps between rooms based on where voices drifted.When she was here, I watched every angle, every shadow she disappeared into.The kitchen is off the hallway, pale countertops cluttered with dishes, a coffee cup half full beside a bowl of untouched cereal.The kind of mess someone leaves when they expect to come back quickly.
The laptop sits on the dining table.Open and charging.I cross the room and stand over it, watching the screen blink to life.It’s password-locked but not encrypted.Typical.Arrogance disguised as confidence.I pull the clone drive from my pocket and connect it.Then I dial Elias.
He answers with a groan.“Jesus.Do you ever sleep?”
“No.You sound hungover.”
“That’s because I am hungover,” Elias mutters.“Some of us have lives outside of our careers.You should try it sometime.You know—fun.Ever heard of it?”
I roll my eyes, even though he can’t see it. “Must be nice,” I mutter.“Are you done complaining?”
“Depends.What are we working with?”There’s a rustle on the other end.Bed sheets maybe.A muffled sigh followed by the creak of a mattress shifting beneath weight.
“Mid-range HP.Running warm.Looks like he’s been using it recently.”
“Good.Plug in your clone drive, boot up the console, and give me a minute while I get the script pulled.”I’m already on it before he finishes speaking.The screen glows pale against the low light.
“Laptop’s live.Locked but not encrypted.”
I hear the faint clink of a mug being set down, the click of a keyboard powering to life.“Okay, start with your bypass tool.Clone the entire root directory—documents, emails, download logs.Scrub it clean after.”
I launch the interface.The screen flares and file trees blink to life.It’s all there, weeks of activity.Downloads.PDFs.Encrypted messages.The cloning process starts slow, lines of code crawling across the screen as the directories unlock.Data flows into the drive, silent and clean.“Transfer active,” I mutter.
“Good,” Elias says.“While that’s running, start ghosting the activity logs.System registry first.Disable auto-backups.Anything local gets pulled and burned.Anything cloud-tethered gets mirrored with a corrupt dummy.”
“Already on it.”I scrub the registry and flush the logs.Wipe the most recent user keystrokes and browser trails.Carl won’t know I touched this machine unless he’s watching with God’s eyes.The transfer finishes.
“Cloning complete.Ejecting.”
“Nice.Do a soft reboot to bury the clone signature.”I do.The screen goes dark, then blinks back to life with the same generic lock screen it had before.Untouched and undisturbed.
I slide the clone drive back into my coat, eyes scanning the room one last time.That’s when I see it, his phone.
Sitting beside the half-empty bowl of cereal like an afterthought.Charging cable still plugged in.The screen is black, but it hums with potential.I stare at it for a beat, then speak quietly into the receiver.
“What’s your take on hijacking a personal device, assuming the target isn’t some clueless civilian?Think trained and paranoid.The kind who might know what to look for if someone’s watching his screen in real time.”This isn’t like Lila’s.She doesn’t know the signs.He might.One flicker, one delayed response, and he’ll burn it before I get what I need.
Elias pauses.“Wait.Are you saying there’s a phone?Right there?”
“Yeah,” I say.“I want control.Keystrokes, messages, calls, GPS.I want to see it as it happens, not after.I want to watch him without him being able to detect a thing.”
A low whistle from the other end.“Ballsy.”
“Thanks.”I say, picking the phone up and switching it on.
“That wasn’t a compliment.”Elias says.“No biometrics on the phone?”
“Nope.Just a standard passcode.”
