The chat buzzed again.
GHOSTN3T: Job window: 10 days.
GHOSTN3T: We pay in blood diamonds or clean crypto.
GHOSTN3T: Your choice.
LUNEL: I'll let you know when the time comes.
She encrypted the logs and set them to self-destruct in 48 hours. Then she typed one last line.
LUNEL: Operation codename?
GHOSTN3T: BLACKLOTUS.
LUNEL: Initiated.
The terminal switched to idle mode, and the guy's picture was still on the screen, like a ghost that wouldn't leave. His eyes looked like they were frozen mid-blink, like he was hiding something.
She took a sip of her coffee, bitter, burnt, and oddly perfect.
Her laptop lit up with code. She wasn't typing, just digging through corporate databases, old news forums, travel logs, hotel check-ins, and hacked CCTV feeds. She was checking out the back doors that seemed like they were left open on purpose.
She whispered to herself, barely audible, "Let's see what you're really made of, Alpha Dark."
She closed her laptop lid gently, even though her heart was racing. She tossed the laptop into her bag and pulled up the hood of her black hoodie. She lowered her cap over her eyes, pulled out a black face mask, and covered the lower half of her face before slipping on her sunglasses.
Time to go incognito.
Standing up slowly, she scanned the café. It was cozy in there, soft jazz playing in the background while people sipped their oat milk lattes, thinking life was all chill.
But she wasn't one of them.
She slipped out quietly.
Every step was calculated. She checked all the reflective windows and shiny car bumpers for any suspicious shadows. She even took a couple of extra blocks to make sure nobody was following her.
Eyes up. Shoulders back. Feet light.
The wind played with her hoodie as she turned a corner. A couple of drunks were laughing behind her, and a woman was chasing her dog by the curb. Just another day in the city.
But she knew better.
When she got to her apartment building, she hung out near the alley for 17 seconds, scanning the area. No movement, no weird reflections, and no shady parked cars.
Finally, she slipped inside.
The lobby was quiet, the concierge was on break. Perfect.
She skipped the stairs to keep the noise level down. She pressed the elevator button and waited in silence, taking in the shiny marble walls and the overhead camera.
Offline. Just how she set it.
Ding.
As she rode up, she turned toward the corner of the lift, so no camera could get a good shot of her face, even if someone tried to restore the feed.
When she reached her floor, she held her breath and listened before stepping out.
Silence.
She walked down the corridor with her head down, listening carefully. It was quiet—no creaks or footsteps. She made her way to the last door on the left, took off her glove, pressed her thumb on the fingerprint panel, and typed in the six-digit code: 9-2-0-4-1-6. She heard a soft click.
She opened the door and quickly shut it behind her. Home sweet home.
She tossed her bag onto the bed, took off her hoodie and pants, just a sleeveless top and shorts underneath, and headed to the kitchen for a tall glass of cold water. So refreshing.
Next, she moved to the floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the East River and stood there for a moment. The city looked calm.
Heading back to her bedroom, she plopped down on the bed, crossed her legs, and pulled out her laptop again.
First step: erase her traces.
She opened a special window to delete camera feeds from the café, the crosswalk, three traffic poles, and the parking lot. After each delete, she made a fake backup. First, she reviewed the café's CCTV footage from when she walked in.
She noted her pace, shadow, and timing.
She confirmed that no one glanced her way and no one followed her out.
Ten minutes later, she wiped the entire timeline.
Now she was never there.
With that weight off her chest, she exhaled and cracked her knuckles.
Now for the real work.
Investigation: Alpha Dark.
*********
Zayden called out, "Need anything? How about some coffee?"
Her hands were steady, but her eyes had shadows that felt weird in the forest.
He kept talking, but she didn't respond. His voice faded into the background like static on a broken radio. All she could focus on was the distant echo of a memory that wouldn't leave her alone.
Zayden shook her arm, bringing her back to reality. At first, she was shocked by what had just happened, but then she got her bearings.
"What?" she asked.
"I came here to make coffee, but you seemed lost in thought. You didn't hear me, so I shook you. Sorry about that!" he said.
"No, no, it's fine, it's okay," she replied.
"Hmmm, Alright, so do you want some coffee? I'm making some for myself," he offered.
"Yeah, sure," she said.
Zayden went to the coffee machine, filled it with water, coffee beans, and a splash of milk, just how he liked it. He put the mugs under the coffee maker and pressed a few buttons on the touchscreen. The machine started its thing: grinding beans, heating water, and building up pressure. The sounds felt louder in the quiet space.
The coffee started pouring, and steam filled the air.
He grabbed a mug and slid it across the counter to her without any fuss—just a chill little gesture.
She lifted the mug to her lips, took a sip, and closed her eyes. The coffee was incredibly good, rich and flavorful. She thought he must be quite well-off to have such nice coffee beans, or perhaps someone had given them to him as a gift.
While she was lost in thought and smiling without realizing it, he cleared his throat and asked, "Do you mind if I ask you something?"
She jolted and replied, "Yeah, sure, why not?"