The city of Edinburgh seemed to have finally calmed down as midnight settled over the sky.
The distant, lonely chatter of night-shift workers echoed between the tall buildings and trees, while eerie shadows stretched across walls and pavements.
Stray dogs erupted into sudden fits of barking somewhere in the distance, their voices carrying through the otherwise quiet streets.
Just like any other night in the city.
Somewhere in the city, an office felt damp and stale in the humid air. Wind mixed with dust and vapour slipped through the tiny openings around the glass windows, lifting the pages of books left open across the desk and making them flutter softly in the stillness.
A cigar burned in the other corner of the dimly lit room.
A petite, pale young woman huffed lightly as her hand swept the lighter back into place. Her blue eyes briefly glimmered in the temporary flame, relaxed behind her white square frames as she leaned back in her chair.
"Want one?" she whispered to the only other occupant in the room.
Matthew immediately looked away, realizing Isla had caught him staring.
He was in his mid-forties, with dark-framed glasses and a receding hairline. Being deeply conservative, he found the sight of an edgy young woman smoking a cigar strangely irritating and let out a quiet sigh of disapproval.
Isla took another puff, holding the smoke for a moment before releasing a thick cloud that curled lazily toward the ceiling.
She placed the cigar back into the ashtray and turned her attention to the glowing monitor in front of her.
"It's already midnight," Isla muttered dejectedly, her eyes lingering on the screen. "It's not like anything's actually gonna happen."
"Yeah." Matthew jerked his head back in annoyance. "You'd think a degree from MIT and four years of coding experience would land you something better than this."
Isla smirked faintly before sighing.
"If only the money weren't this good…"
Money.
In the end, it always boiled down to money.
Outside, another dog barked loudly into the silence.
"How's Lydia doing?" Isla asked quietly, changing the subject.
Matthew's expression darkened behind the reflection of the computer screen.
"She's still there," he said quietly. "Barely."
His fingers curled against the edge of the desk as frustration tightened his features.
"Everybody keeps telling me to accept it and move on. Mom's already on my back about Maisie and—"
He stopped.
His eyes suddenly noticed something on the monitor.
Isla followed his line of sight.
Something was wrong.
The screen flashed with a notification.
125.24 € deducted.
Matthew frowned.
123.24 € deducted.
"Did you—"
"No."
Isla leaned closer to the monitor.
A third notification appeared.
124.26 € pending.
Matthew's expression changed immediately.
"Hold on."
Isla refreshed the page, but the screen took several seconds to respond. When it finally did, another message appeared.
We're having trouble displaying some account information.
The cigar remained forgotten between Isla's fingers as she immediately logged out of the software, her relaxed posture disappearing.
"Turn off the Wi-Fi."
Matthew hesitated.
Instead, under Isla's accusing stare, he reopened the login page.
The website took unusually long to load. When it finally appeared, the email field was already filled in, despite autofill having been disabled months ago.
Isla's eyes narrowed.
"Don't."
Matthew typed the password anyway.
Incorrect password.
He stared at the screen before trying again.
Incorrect password.
By the third attempt, panic finally hit him, accompanied by a sharp rush of adrenaline.
The screen lit up once again.
New device registered for online banking.
If this was not you, contact the bank immediately.
Timestamp: 12:14 AM.
"Okay, that's enough."
Isla shoved Matthew aside and immediately began enabling every security measure she could reach before cutting the internet connection.
Her fingers moved rapidly across the keyboard while Matthew watched the screen with growing confusion.
For a brief moment, nothing happened.
Then another banking tab opened by itself.
Matthew stared at it.
Another appeared.
Then another.
Within seconds, several tabs had multiplied across the screen, opening and closing faster than either of them could keep up with.
The pages moved too quickly to follow properly, but there was a clear pattern to them. Whoever was inside wasn't browsing randomly.
They were looking for something specific.
"Shut the Wi-Fi!" Isla snapped.
Matthew immediately obeyed, but it was too late.
The pages continued moving.
A notification appeared in the corner of the screen.
Security settings updated successfully.
Isla froze, her fingers hovering above the keyboard.
Another message appeared.
Two-factor authentication preferences changed.
"No, no, no—"
She tried shutting the browser completely, but instead, Task Manager opened on its own.
Three unfamiliar processes appeared for less than a second before changing their names.
Matthew leaned closer.
"Get their address."
"I'm trying."
"They've got access to the machine."
Isla's fingers moved faster across the keyboard as she tried to trace the activity, but the information kept changing before she could properly follow it.
Matthew grabbed his phone and manually dialled the bank's fraud line while Isla physically disconnected the adapter and disabled every remaining network interface she could find.
The fraud operator answered.
"Jesus Christ," Matthew whispered.
"What?"
Silence.
"Can you confirm if you still control the device?"
Matthew answered immediately.
"No", Matthew replied in a harsh voice.
Isla, meanwhile, was barely listening.
She was still trying to force the unfamiliar activity out of the system, closing one window after another, only for another to appear in its place.
Then the phone signal vanished.
Matthew slowly lowered the phone.
The balance updated.
One transfer pending.
£9,800.
Destination account: M. K*
Matthew immediately tried freezing everything, but another verified session appeared before the first restriction could even process.
Different device ID.
"Told you," Isla muttered as the active-session list continued filling and disappearing down the side of the screen.
Matthew muted the fraud operator for a moment.
"How much is in savings?"
"Combined?"
"Yes."
"About forty-six."
Matthew's jaw tightened.
Isla's eyes remained fixed on the session logs. Every few seconds, a newly authenticated device appeared and vanished before she could terminate it.
Then the pending transfer disappeared.
For half a second, she thought they'd managed to stop it.
Three smaller transfers appeared underneath.
£2,000
£1,800
£1,950
Matthew exhaled sharply through his nose.
"We're gonna have to go into hiding ", he said, his face hardening.
Isla nodded grimly.
The operator heard him.
"Sir… what does that mean?"
Both of them ignored her.
Isla stared at the screen, her expression slowly changing.
"They're good. Every time we block something, they change it."
Matthew looked at her, but before he could respond, the command prompt closed by itself.
The banking notifications accelerated manifold.
The fraud operator returned, his voice noticeably tighter this time.
"We are attempting an account lockdown, but authenticated verification is overriding the hold."
Matthew laughed bitterly.
It was too late for that.
The current account emptied first.
Then the savings.
Money moved internally before flowing outward through smaller accounts, disappearing into different accounts before they could even begin to trace where it was going.
The balance dropped again.
£31,204.
Matthew stared at the number.
Another update appeared.
£24,991.
Isla's hand tightened around the edge of the desk, knuckles whitening
£18,440.
"Stop," she whispered.
Her fingers flew across the keyboard again, but nothing changed. The screen remained stubbornly alive as another transfer appeared, followed by another and another.
Isla finally slammed the laptop shut.
For several seconds, neither of them spoke.
Only the fraud operator's muffled voice remained audible through the speakerphone.
Matthew slowly reopened the lid.
The screen came back immediately. The session resumed without hesitation, still active as though the laptop had never been shut at all.
Matthew stared at it for several seconds.
"That machine's burned," he said quietly.
Neither of them knew what else to say.
The final transfers happened more slowly now, almost carelessly.
The last amount left in the checking account was £12.43.
Matthew swallowed hard.
Another notification appeared.
£0.43.
Then the final number appeared on the screen.
£0.00.
They stared at the balance incredulously, as if looking at it long enough might somehow make the numbers change.
Nothing did.
Outside, the night had turned just as quiet as it had been twenty minutes ago.
The same distant barking echoed between the buildings. The same wind brushed against the glass windows, and the same sleeping city continued without knowing what had just happened inside the small office.
Matthew finally turned toward his partner, who still looked pale beneath the dim office light.
"Vixen?"
Isla suddenly laughed.
"No doubt," she muttered, taking her cigar from the ashtray again. "Only she would have the guts to do something like this."
Matthew kept staring at her.
"Going after Lynx's account?"Isla laughed again, this time devilishly.
"That bitch is gonna end up dead in an alley in a month."
And despite the absolute faith he had in Vixen's abilities, Matthew still found himself nodding.
Because this time, Vixen had really tried to bite off more than she could chew.