The first alert hits at 6:42 a.m.
I’m already awake.
I haven’t slept more than forty minutes since Luna left my penthouse before dawn—hair loose, jacket half-zipped, mouth bruised from promises we didn’t name. December light bleeds pale and merciless through the glass walls, frosting the city in cold indifference.
My phone vibrates once.
Then again.
Then it doesn’t stop.
I don’t need to look to know.
The silence in the room tells me everything.
Cross Tech is a machine built on precision. On quiet. On control. When that silence fractures, it means someone has detonated something so deep it can’t be contained.
I sit up slowly, heart already pounding—not with fear.
With recognition.
This is the sound of consequences arriving on time.
I swipe my phone.
BREAKING: Anonymous Leak Exp
