Shadows Of Obsession

Chapter 5

Rya Kim

The clock on Rya’s monitor read 7:12 PM WAT on Friday, the day blurring into a haze of code and caffeine. The tracker was gone, dumped in Times Square’s chaos, but the weight of Viktor Chen’s looming presence lingered like a storm cloud. She sat at her desk, the blue glow of her screens casting shadows across her face, her mind split between Axel Jackson and the threats closing in. Tonight, she had a meeting—her first update with Hilton, the woman who’d hired her to dig into Axel’s life. The reason she’d started this obsession in the first place.

It had begun three months ago, a cold email from an encrypted account: Need a ghost to unravel NeuralCore. Generous pay. Discretion required. Rya had traced the sender to Helena Hilton, CEO of Horizon Tech, Axel’s fiercest rival. Hilton was a force—tall, with sharp cheekbones and ice-blue eyes, her presence commanding yet detached. Strong, independent, nice when it suited her, but cold as steel when crossed. She’d met Rya in a secure warehouse, offering a briefcase of cash and a simple directive: expose Axel’s weaknesses. Rya, drowning in debts from her early hacking days, had agreed, her skills a lifeline. But tracking Axel had morphed into something personal, a fixation she couldn’t shake.

She grabbed her jacket, and headed out. The coffee shop, a nondescript spot on 5th Avenue, was their agreed meeting place. The bell jingled as she entered, the aroma of roasted beans mingling with the hum of conversation. Hilton sat in a corner booth, her blonde hair pulled into a tight bun, a black coffee untouched before her. Rya slid into the seat opposite, her heart steady despite the stakes.

“You’re late,” Hilton said, her voice smooth but edged with frost.

“Traffic,” Rya lied, pulling out her laptop. “I’ve got updates.”

Hilton’s eyes narrowed. “Progress on Jackson?”

Rya opened a file, projecting it onto a small holographic display. “His schedule’s mapped—meetings, runs, the Met auction last night. Hacked his emails, found dealings with a senator. Shady, but not damning. His security’s tight, but I’m in.”

Hilton leaned forward, her fingers steepled. “And NeuralCore? What’s he building?”

Rya hesitated, her mind flashing to “Project Phantom”—the drone schematics she’d uncovered. The innovation was brilliant, a leap ahead of Horizon’s tech, and something in her recoiled at exposing it. Axel’s face, tattooed and intense, flickered in her thoughts. He was her target, but this felt like betrayal of something deeper. “Nothing concrete yet,” she said, keeping her tone neutral. “Systems are encrypted. I’m working on it.”

Hilton’s gaze sharpened, but she nodded. “Keep digging. I need an edge. Jackson’s outmaneuvering me, and I won’t lose to that Russian upstart.”

Rya forced a smile. “He won’t know what hit him.” She closed the laptop, the lie sitting heavy. Hilton slid an envelope across the table—cash, crisp and untraceable. “Next update in a week,” she said, standing. “Don’t disappoint me.”

As Hilton left, Rya sipped her latte, the warmth a contrast to the chill in her chest. She felt bad—Axel’s innovation was his, not a weapon for Hilton’s corporate war. But the money was survival, a tether to her past. She packed up, the coffee shop’s chatter fading as she stepped into the evening air.

The street buzzed with life, but a prickle crawled up Rya’s neck. Someone was watching her. She quickened her pace, her eyes darting to reflections in shop windows. A figure in a hooded jacket lingered across the street, too far to identify, but the gait felt familiar—Viktor Chen’s wiry frame from her memories. Her heart raced, her mind spiraling. Was it him? Had her coding mistake drawn him out? She turned down an alley, her breath shallow, the sensation intensifying. A shadow shifted, and she ducked behind a dumpster, her hand brushing the knife in her pocket. Nothing. Just wind, maybe, but the paranoia clung like damp fog.

By the time she reached her apartment building, her nerves were frayed. She locked the door, tossing her jacket aside, and paced the room. The monitors glowed, Axel’s feed dark, but her thoughts were on Chen. “Why should I be scared of that asshole?” she snapped, her voice echoing. She slammed a fist on the desk, the sting grounding her. Chen had chased her before, and she’d outrun him. She was better now—smarter, stronger. Let him try.

Her phone buzzed, cutting through her anger. An incoming call—Lila and Mia, a three-way video link. She answered, sinking onto the couch, their faces filling the screen. Lila, with her short dreads and sharp grin, waved from her cluttered Brooklyn loft. “Hey, ghost girl! You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Mia, her dark curls bouncing, laughed from her Queens apartment. “Yeah, what’s with the scowl? Prank didn’t scare you that bad!”

Rya managed a smirk. “Just a long day. What’s up?”

“Sleepover!” Mia chirped. “Lila’s place. Tomorrow night. We need to catch up—you’ve been a hermit.”

Lila nodded, her tone softer. “You’ve been off, Ry. Work or… something else? Spill over pizza and wine.”

Rya hesitated, the weight of her secrets pressing down. Lila was her rock—tough, resourceful, a fixer who’d helped her escape foster hell at sixteen. They’d met in a group home, bonding over stolen tech magazines, and Lila had taught her the streets. Mia, younger by two years, was the heart—playful, loyal, a foster sister who’d cried when Rya left but never stopped calling. They were her family, the only ones who knew her scars.

“Fine,” Rya said, relenting. “But no pranks, Mia.”

“No promises!” Mia grinned. “Bring your laptop. We’ll hack something fun.”

Lila chuckled. “And tell us about this ‘big client.’ You’re hiding something.”

Rya’s smile faded. She couldn’t tell them about Axel, Hilton, or Chen—not yet. “Just work. You’ll see tomorrow.” They signed off, leaving her with a flicker of warmth. A sleepover might ground her, but her mind was already racing. Axel’s face lingered, his tattoo a beacon in her thoughts. Hilton wanted his downfall, but Rya’s motives were shifting—obsession, yes, but also a strange loyalty she couldn’t name.

She stood, pacing again, the watched feeling returning. Chen’s shadow loomed, but she shoved it down. She’d plan the cabin, kidnap Axel, use him to outmaneuver Hilton and Chen. Her fingers traced the knife’s hilt, a promise to herself. No one— not Chen, not Hilton—would break her. She turned to her screens, Axel’s feed flickering to life as he entered his penthouse, unaware of the storm she was brewing.