"Slow down there, cowboy," Sarah said with a little laugh, bare feet padding softly across the kitchen tiles as she slid into the chair next to mine. "The food's not going anywhere."
She leaned in close, and I caught a wave of her shampoo—something fruity, peach maybe, with this lazy sweetness that somehow made my brain glitch for a second. My senses were still all out of whack from whatever the hell happened yesterday afternoon with my teacher and Madison, and everything felt... sharper. Louder. Closer.
Then her finger was under my chin, tilting my face up gently like she was checking if I'd caught a fever.
"You look different," she said, squinting a little. "More... alive. Like you actually slept instead of pulling one of your 'up till 4 AM doing god-knows-what' routines."
I blinked at her, fork still in one hand, my mouth full, my brain short-circuiting a little at how casual she was being. There was nothing weird about the way she touched me—at least not from her side—but my body was still in the sex overdrive where I made my teacher cum allover her house and fuck Madison in her father's Audi, and the sheer weight and absurdity of it was messing with my ability to think straight.
I grunted in response and went back to chewing like a caveman, hoping she didn't notice the full-on sensory overload happening in my head. She was sharp and that could be worrying. What would she think if she caught on that her brother was having though of bending her over on...
'Fucking get out of my fuckin' mind!'
Sarah stood up to grab something from the fridge, and I had to literally shake my head—like, full-body reset—to stop the dumb thoughts crawling into my brain when I caught the view from behind.
Those sleep shorts? Yeah, no. They weren't just short—they were borderline illegal. The soft fabric hugged her hips like it had a grudge, riding up just enough to show the lower curve of her ass. Her legs—long, toned, golden from the summer sun—looked like they'd walked straight out of a dance studio and into my kitchen.
'Get a grip, Carter. She's your sister. Kind of? Basically? Close enough to fry your brain.'
Thank God the system hadn't thrown me any missions involving family yet. I'd have rejected that shit without hesitation. For now, at least.
For now!
She came back with a bowl of grapes and dropped into the chair next to me—closer than necessary. Our thighs brushed, and hers were warm. Smooth. When she leaned into my side to get comfy, the soft press of her chest against my arm hit like a glitch in my system. No bra. Just heat, softness and pressure of her bosom and bad decisions waiting to happen.
"Thanks for whatever you did," she said, voice quieter now. "With the hope for money, I mean. Mom smiled yesterday—like actually smiled. Didn't panic over prices or stress about groceries. She even bought the name-brand cereal." Her laugh was soft, almost embarrassed that the whole family had to rely on me now.
She rested her head on my shoulder like it belonged there. Each breath against my neck was warm, featherlight. When she spoke again, her lips brushed my skin, sending heat curling down my spine like a fuse had been lit.
I didn't say anything. Couldn't. Just sat there, trying to act like I wasn't losing my mind.
Her breathing slowed, deeper now, more even—like she was drifting. And sure enough, within a few minutes, she was asleep on me. Deadweight. Comfortable. Completely out. Her body fully relaxed against mine, like she trusted me more than anyone.
Which made the electricity running through my body even worse.
I finished the last bite of casserole and took a deep breath before moving. One arm slipped behind her back, the other under her legs. Lifting her was easy now—system perks—but I felt everything. Her skin against my forearm.
The way her tank top slid slightly when she shifted. The weight of her body settling against my chest...
She murmured something in her sleep and instinctively wrapped her arms around my neck. Her face pressed into the crook of my shoulder, her breath warm on my neck. Each exhale hit right against my pulse. I could feel her warm breath directly on my skin now, each exhale sending electricity through my nervous system.
Her lips were barely an inch from my pulse point, and I had to focus on walking straight.
I walked steady, focused. Eyes forward. Jaw tight. Because if I let myself think about how perfect she felt in my arms?
I'd lose.
The hallway felt endless as I carried her, trying hard not to notice how perfectly she fit in my arms—or how her scent, that fruity shampoo mixed with something that was just her, kept messing with my head.
I nudged her bedroom door open with my foot, grateful when it didn't creak. Her bed was a soft chaos of twisted sheets and half-crushed pillows, but I managed to navigate through the mess without knocking anything over.
Laying her down was the real challenge. I had to lean in, keeping her weight balanced as I slowly eased her onto the mattress. Her arms didn't let go right away. They tightened around my neck like she didn't want to lose that warmth, and suddenly, I was inches from her face.
Her lips were slightly parted, her breath calm, and I had to physically remind myself to move before I did something I'd regret.
She murmured my name softly as I pulled the blanket over her, a barely-there sound that hit deeper than it should've. Her dark hair spilled across the pillow like black silk, and before I could stop myself, I brushed a strand from her cheek. Her skin was warm. Softer than I remembered.
'Enough.' I told myself, jaw tight. 'Leave before you mess everything up.'
"Good night, Sarah," I whispered, tapping her forehead lightly with two fingers—quick, brotherly, safe—and then stepped back like the bed might bite me.
By the time I made it back to my room, sleep was a lost cause. It was already 4 AM, and my brain was running hot—probably the food, maybe the system boosts, but definitely the whole situation.
Shit. The trades.
I'd completely forgotten about the crypto positions I'd opened before the whole Isabella mess blew up. My hands were legit shaking as I grabbed my phone and laptop, the screens lighting up my room like a miniature command center.
Then I saw the numbers—and my jaw damn near hit the floor.
$147,000.
Holy fucking shit.
I'd been gunning for at least $200K from my $300K equity, but most of the trades were still halfway to their targets. I wasn't just throwing money around like some degen. Nah, this was high-level risk. Calculated. Cold. I'd risked about $50K out of my total $300K capital. But every dollar risked had the potential to return four. A 1:4 ratio. Clean. Lethal. Most traders only dreamed of a setup like that.
The difference?
I wasn't hoping these trades would hit—I knew.
Enhanced intelligence. Pattern recognition sharper than any chart bot. I could see what other people wished they could see. I wasn't playing fair, and I didn't have to. I had the edge.
That altcoin I'd thrown some YOLO cash at? Still chilling at my entry point, like it was waiting to pick a side. But the rest of the portfolio? Straight-up money printer mode.
I stared at the numbers, heart thudding harder than it had even when I'd carried Sarah to bed.
'This is enough,' I thought. 'Enough to shift our whole damn lives for the next few months.'
But I didn't hit to close them.
Not yet.
Call it confidence. Call it greed. Whatever. My gut said the market was about to explode—and not in the way the headlines thought.
Bitcoin's chart had gone suspiciously quiet. Price action coiling tight. Volume simmering. All my indicators? Screaming a breakout was near. I flicked through a few feeds—and then I saw it:
Rumors.A Fortune 100 company supposedly loading Bitcoin onto their treasury.Official announcement coming tomorrow.
Classic.
Retail gonna FOMO on the news. Prices will spike. Then smart money gonna take a fat dump all over the hype.
That post-news crash? That's where the real profits live.
I leaned back in my chair, letting the glow of the screen paint shadows across my wall.
Might as well check the dark web while I wait. I had time—and the deeper corners of the net were always buzzing with shit nobody on CNBC would ever hear about.
But the second I logged in to my usual forum—
There it was.