Someone had sent her the codes, the original codes, that she had written and Jackson had stolen and Tristan had been framed for, the codes that began everything. Looking at the attached message, she clicked on it.
imreaper00: i believe these belong to you. impressive work.
What the fuck?
Who the hell was this guy? And how did he not only bypass her security but found her codes?
nerdytechgoddess00: where did you get these?
The screen remained blank for the next few minutes as Morana felt her heart pound. If she had the codes, that meant they hadn’t been copied or used. She’d encoded them with a self-destructive algorithm for that. But why would this strange guy, who was clearly extremely skilled with tech, return these to her? Why give her clues to the missing girls and Syndicate at all?
A message came in.
imreaper00: it’s time we meet.
He went offline.
Morana, first and foremost, checked through the codes that had taken her over two years to write. It was dangerous in the digital age, with the power to deface anyone and anything at any point of time. It was especially dangerous for mobsters with skeletons in their closets.
It took her a few hours to check and recheck every single line, trying to see if they had been tampered with at all. She found nothing. They were pristine, unused, exactly as they’d been when Jackson stole them.
Pushing her laptop to the side, Morana looked up at the cloudy sky as the hours passed and tried to make sense of everything.
One – someone had hired Jackson to steal the codes she’d been working on for two years, someone who knew they existed in the first place, and framed Tristan for them so she could be led to him.
Two – after she had been led to him, someone had started to send her anonymous messages and clues about their history, the Alliance, and her history that she hadn’t been aware of.
Three – she had gone down that rabbit hole and someone had led her towards the Syndicate and once she started looking into it, her codes were returned.
All of these things could have been done only by someone tech-savvy. And now she was thinking all of this was done so she could be led to the Syndicate in the first place. Stealing the codes was a fluke, this was the real target. Someone wanted her working on this.
Whoever this guy was, there was a reason he wanted her attention.
imreaper00. A username but who was he? The grave mystery man from the airport had thanked her for telling him he was alive. Was he supposed to be dead?
The questions were starting to give her a headache.
Dusk settled around the lake and Morana went back inside, feeling a little lost as to what to do now. After getting changed and settling down on the couch, she did what any self-respecting closet nerd did when she got bored. She watched Netflix.
After a few episodes of her newest obsession and countless snacks, Morana was happily vegged out on the couch in a Netflix-induced stupor she had sorely missed. She had needed the break, needed the space, needed the distance from her real-life shit. Her life had suddenly become too adventurous over the last few weeks and there was only so much a girl could take before breaking down hysterically. And she couldn’t break down hysterically because the man she lived with needed her to be emotionally stronger as he let go inch by inch. Maybe in a few years, she’d treat him to it.
That was how Tristan found her, lying down on the couch and watching shirtless Henry Cavill take a bath, her mouth slightly open.
He cleared his throat.
Morana paused on a very good shot and raised her eyebrows at the hot man behind her who could give Henry a run for his money.
“You think it will ever go away?” he asked, his voice deliberately low in that tone that made her belly flutter and clench.
Morana opened her mouth, about to reply but it went dry as he threw his jacket to the side and rolled up his sleeves, coming around to where she was.
She sat up, but before she could move more, he took a hold of her legs and tipped her back, pulling her to the edge, sinking to his knees before her. Heart thundering, her core pulsing with need, Morana watched as he pushed her t-shirt up over her breasts, her legs over his shoulders, his lips closing around her nipple.
A noise escaped her at the wet heat of his mouth, her back arching as she ground her growing wetness against him, trying to find the right friction. His teeth tugged at her nipple, pulling it deep into his mouth before giving the same attention to the other, his eyes on her.
“Not that I’m complaining, but wow, this is, oh fuck,” Morana babbled as he ripped the seam of her panties and threw away the scrap of fabric, a flood of heat invading between her legs. His hands went down under her ass, cupping them as he thrust his hips against her. Bending down, he trailed light kisses down her belly, making her suddenly conscious of her little folds of skin. He didn’t even pause, going south to inhale her, his teeth sinking into the side of her thigh.
“Please,” Morana begged, tugging his hair, pulling him closer.