RAVEN
I accepted the challenge with a smug smile and exited the company.
By the time I got to the parking lot, I came to a dead stop.
My car was missing.
In its place was an identical model-same color, same type-but brand new. And perfect. No dents. No busted bumper. No latte-stained seats.
What the actual hell?
I walked closer and noticed a small black envelope on the windshield. The handwriting on the front was elegant and annoyingly confident.
> "Raven Voss."
Inside was a note:
> "I don't like owing people. Consider it handled. - D.M."
I blinked, stunned.
Fix my bumper, I said. Fix. My. Bumper. Not replace my entire damn vehicle.
I didn't ask for this. I stormed back into the company to look for him, but at the reception desk, the lady refused to let me in.
"He's already left," she said, voice all fake sugar.
Lies.
Still, I left. No point arguing with someone programmed to stonewall.
I walked back, opened the door to the new car, and slid inside. The seats were luxurious. Brand new. This thing even had the latest tech upgrades.
Damn him.
I drove home, feeling equal parts annoyed and impressed.
Once home, I threw the latte-stained blouse and wrinkled skirt into the laundry basket like they'd offended me personally. Slipping into my hoodie and shorts, I collapsed on the couch.
That's when my phone buzzed.
Alex.
My best friend. My one-time crush. The only person who knew my biggest secret.
I smiled and picked up.
"Hey, Rav," he said. "You good?"
"I'm good. You?"
"Great," he said casually, then added, "But... you wouldn't happen to know how $2,000 ended up in my account?"
I grinned. "Nope."
"Don't play innocent. It's always you."
"I can't help it if I'm generous."
"You swore you'd stop."
"And I lied."
He groaned. "I have a job now, Raven. I'm fine."
"I know," I said softly. "But I made a promise."
There was a pause, and then he chuckled. "You're impossible."
I was fifteen. He was sixteen. On my birthday, he showed up with an old, beat-up laptop.
His family barely made ends meet, and I knew-I knew-that must have cost him everything.
"I took two jobs to get it," he said, embarrassed.
I cried. Then promised him-if I ever made real money, I'd share it with him.
He refused, of course. But I never forgot.
That laptop? That was my start.
I learned to code on it. I discovered hacking on it.
My first real job? A girl being blackmailed by some disgusting jerk who had videos of her. She came crying to me in the library.
I was scared. I didn't think I could do it. But I tried. And I succeeded.
Wiped his phone, exposed his sick collection, dropped a tip to the police, and handed the girl a flash drive with everything she needed to report him.
She gave me $300. My first paycheck.
I gave it to Alex.
He refused again, so I made him a deal-he could take half. From then on, I always shared my earnings with him.
He was the only person I ever told the truth.
He knew I was a hacker.
And he never judged me.
"Anyway," he said now, "I was thinking of asking Mia to move in."
My heart jumped. "Whoa. That's huge!"
"Yeah. It feels right."
"She's lucky."
"You're one to talk."
We laughed and talked a little more. I told him about my chaotic day-latte incident and all-and he nearly choked laughing.
Eventually, we hung up.
I stared at the ceiling, heart warm from the memory. Then reality snapped back in.
It was late.
No way I was cooking.
I ordered pizza, curled up on the couch, hoodie sleeves over my fingers, and watched Naruto until the doorbell rang.
But as I went down to grab my pizza, I felt it.
Someone was watching me.
I scanned the hallway-nothing.
Still, that chill stuck to my skin. I grabbed the pizza, locked the door, and returned to my couch.
Food. Anime. Then work.
I entered my office-technically just a spare room, but with all my hacking gear, it might as well be NASA.
I liked working in the dark. Just my monitors lit the room.
Request after request came in.
I ignored most.
You might be wondering-was I worried about Dante's challenge?
Not at all.
Because I was the one who breached Vortex Systems a few days ago.
I just wanted to test their firewall strength. It was impressive, took me longer than usual, but I still broke in-and I left it breached on purpose.
I knew I'd be hired.
I knew I'd fix it.
As I started typing, prepping to seal the breach and wipe all traces, I let my fingers dance over the keyboard-code and commands flowing like second nature. This was where I came alive.
But then-
a loud knock echoed through my apartment door.
I froze.
No one visits me this late. Not without a warning. And certainly not with three sharp, deliberate knocks.
I reached for the small blade I kept tucked in my drawer. Quietly padded toward the door, peeking through the peephole.
No one.
My heart raced.
I cracked the door slightly, looked down-and there it was.
A black envelope.
Just like the one from earlier.
Only this time, no name on it.
Inside was a single photo.
It was me-taken less than an hour ago-collecting the pizza in my hoodie and shorts.
On the back was a message scrawled in bold, inked handwriting:
> "Eyes are always watching."