Chapter Eight – Digital Ghosts[Part 2]
918 Words
Cass swallows the last of her coffee and sets the mug down with a soft clink.
“I hate this,” she says. “I hate that you were in that room. I hate that Kade now has you on security footage. And I really, really hate that we’re about to have the conversation we’re about to have.”
Ava arches a brow. “Which is?”
Cass swivels her chair to face her fully.
“You can’t fix this from the outside anymore,” she says. “Not with half a dataset, a guilty conscience, and my charming personality. If you want to know what’s really on that drive—and what they took out—you need access to Kade’s systems. To *him*.”
Ava’s throat goes dry. “No.”
“Yes,” Cass insists. “You need his copy. You need to see what he sees. You need to know what names are on it and which ones are missing.”
“He wants the same thing,” Ava says. “Information. Leverage. Do you think he’s just going to let me plug a USB into his servers and poke around?”
“No,” Cass says. “I think he’s going to try to own you. Digitally, physically, legally, whatever works. And I think you’re the only person stupid enough to walk into his building knowing that and still try to flip the board.”
Ava stares at the frozen image of him kissing her.
“I’m not walking into his building,” she says. “Last night was—”
“Last night was the first move,” Cass cuts in. “He already found you once. He will again. Do you want to be reacting to his plays forever, or do you want a chance to see the whole game?”
A bitter laugh escapes Ava. “You make it sound so simple.”
“It’s not,” Cass says. “It’s suicide-adjacent. But staying out of it doesn’t make you safe, Ava. It just makes you blind. Vince, Kade, and whoever did this to Lot Seventeen—they’re going to redraw the city whether you watch or not.”
Ava presses her fingertips to her temples.
Her father’s voice: *You are here because I allow it.*
Damian’s: *You shouldn’t have run.*
“How?” she asks eventually. “Say I did walk into Kade’s tower. Say I got close enough to touch his systems. What, then? He built half the security architecture in this city. You told me once he eats hackers for breakfast.”
“He does,” Cass says. “Which is why you’re not going in as a hacker.”
Ava looks up sharply.
“Then what am I?” she asks.
Cass’s mouth twists. “You’re a Moretti.”
The word tastes like poison and power.
“Your family name opens doors. Mine never will,” Cass says. “You walk in there as a problem he can’t ignore. As leverage, he can’t pass up. You let him think he’s using you. Meanwhile, I’ll be in his digital walls, piggybacking on whatever access he gives you.”
“That’s not a plan,” Ava says. “That’s a suicide note with extra steps.”
Cass shrugs helplessly. “It’s the only angle we have. Unless you want to go back to being your father’s silent princess and hope no one ever says ‘auction’ in his presence.”
The thought makes her stomach turn.
More demolished buildings. More buried tenants. More nights staring at herself in the mirror and pretending she doesn’t see blood.
No.
She can’t go back.
“Even if I wanted to,” she says, “Kade’s already one move ahead. He contacted me last night.”
Cass’s eyes widen. “What?”
“He sent me the still from the auction feed,” Ava says. “With that line: ‘You shouldn’t have run.’”
Cass’s fingers curl hard around the arm of her chair. “And you didn’t think to lead with that?”
“I was busy trying not to think about his mouth on mine,” Ava snaps, then winces. “Sorry. That came out—”
“Accurate,” Cass says dryly. “Disturbing, but accurate.”
She blows out a breath. “Okay. So he has the drive, proof you were there, and your direct contact. That’s not a crush. That’s a containment protocol.”
“Meaning?” Ava asks.
“Meaning he’s not going to just let you fade into the background,” Cass says. “He’ll poke. He’ll prod. He’ll push until you respond. Might as well choose when and how instead of waiting for him to kick your door in.”
Ava looks back at the frozen kiss.
Her skin prickles.
“What if I can’t control it?” she asks quietly. “What if I walk in there and he decides I’m more useful broken?”
Cass is silent for a long moment.
Then she pushes away from the desk and crosses the room, dropping onto the couch beside Ava. Their shoulders bump.
“You might not be able to control *him*,” Cass says. “But you can control you. Your reasons. Your lines. You don’t go in there as Vince’s scared kid or as some i***t fangirl. You go in as the woman who was brave enough to walk into that auction alone.”
“I was stupid,” Ava says.
- Writer
