Page 72 of Black Heart
“My pass should be a backup plan,” Ethan says as he twists between our seats and grabs his laptop. He uses the lever to push back his seat granting him room to open his computer and mutters over the electronic whir of the chair, “Time to be Q.”
“What are you doing?”
“Figuring out how to keep you safe during this insane operation you’ve talked yourself into.”
Ethan’s fingers fly over the keyboard with soft clicking noises. Lines of code fill his screen and I lean closer, interpreting the numbers.
“You’re creating a backdoor in Pulse’s security system. That’s brilliant,” I say, my heart picking up on the excitement.I can actually do this.
“It’ll give you maybe twenty minutes before they detect it and shut it down.”
My excitement pops and fizzles away.
20 minutes.
That’s barely enough time for me to get to the serverroom, install my malware, and find an escape route before it all goes sideways.
“And here.” Ethan reaches under his seat, sifting through empty chip bags and soda cans before tossing something at me that I catch in mid-air. “My smartwatch. Put it on so I can track you.”
Watching Ethan work, the glow of the screen illuminating the taut concentration on his face, causes a lump in my throat to form.
I’ve never needed anyone. Never thought it necessary. But here, with Ethan’s guidance and Kaden’s protective lessons, they’re both spurring me on. I may have slipped away from Kaden, but ironically, it’s his influence that’s given me the edge I need to pull this off.
It also makes me realize that if anything happened to either of them, I would fight the asshole responsible to the death.
Is this what it feels like to have a family?
Ethan looks up and must notice the sheen to my eyes because he says quietly, “Hey, what are friends for if not to commit felonies together?”
I respond with a small smile. “Thanks, Ethan. I owe you big time.”
With a final keystroke, Ethan says, “Your time starts now. And Layla, be careful. Please.”
I nod, reaching for the van’s door handle. “Promise.”
“And if we pull this off, drinks are on me. You know, assuming we’re not in witness protection or something.”
Despite everything, I find myself grinning before stepping out. “I’ll hold you to that.”
22
KADEN
As I step into the house, I immediately sense that Layla’s not here. A half-drunk cup of tea now cold, the lack of her perfume’s aroma, and a book lies open with a bookmark hastily placed between its pages, slightly crinkled from what may have been a stray teardrop.
The stillness in the air is broken only by the soft tick of the kitchen’s wall clock, a constant reminder that seconds are slipping by, time is ebbing, and with it, my chances.
I rip my gloves off, discarding them on the wooden table next to her abandoned cup, my fingers running across the smooth ceramic surface as if to feel where her mouth lingered.
“Layla?”
No answer.
“Wraithing, where are you? Don’t make me start a countdown before I find and punish you.”
Nothing.
Gritting my teeth against the rising unease, I stalk past the table and into the kitchen, devoid of her presence. I check her favorite reading chair in the main room—empty. Afterlistening for the creak of footsteps on the second floor and hearing nothing, I storm up the staircase, gripping the banister as I leap over steps three at a time, the hard thud of my boots showcasing a warning to whomever might have her and what I will do to them when I catch them.