CYRENE TEMPEST

  Some days, my body needed the same kind of punishment my mind craved.

  Today was one of those days.

  I tightened the wraps around my fists, the familiar tug biting into my knuckles. My indoor gym smelled like leather and metal and faint lavender from the diffuser I forgot to turn off yesterday. I liked it that way. Clean but raw. Untamed.

  The bag in front of me swung slightly, daring me. I took the bait, hammering in a series of jabs, crosses, and hooks that made my arms burn in the best way possible. Every blow echoed off the walls like a drumbeat, loud and steady, keeping time with the thrumming energy under my skin.

  Somewhere behind me, I heard the soft hum of the vacuum shutting off. Maria, my housekeeper, finishing up for the day. I didn't even glance back. She had her routine, I had mine. She knew not to bother me when I was training. By the time I was slinging the last punch and stretching out my aching shoulders, I heard the front door click softly shut.

  Good. Silence. Solitude. Exactly what I needed.

  I spent another twenty minutes cooling down—shadowboxing, light stretches until the tightness in my muscles started to melt away. My body was dripping with sweat by the time I finally called it. I loved this feeling, the exhaustion before the real mischief began.

  The walk to my bathroom left little wet footprints along the marble, but I didn't care. The hot water hit my skin like a lover's kiss, washing away the salt and grime. I stayed there longer than necessary, letting the steam curl around me, loosen my mind the way the workout loosened my body.

  When I finally stepped out, I threw on my uniform for a lazy day in: an oversized Nirvana T-shirt that almost swallowed me whole, black booty shorts that barely qualified as clothing, and my thick gray socks. Comfortable. Free. The way I liked it when I planned on being nowhere but home.

  My stomach grumbled, and I took the hint. Time for brunch.

  I pulled open the fridge, surveying the shelves before grabbing what I needed. High-protein was the goal—clean fuel to keep me sharp.

  A dozen eggs cracked into a bowl, a handful of spinach tossed in with a flick of my wrist. I sautéed some turkey sausage in a cast-iron pan, the smell making my mouth water. Protein smoothie? Easy. Two scoops of powder, a banana, almond milk. Blend. Done.

  I plated everything sloppily but didn't care about the aesthetics. I was feeding a machine, not entertaining guests. I wolfed down the eggs and sausage, chugged half the smoothie, and collapsed into my favorite bean bag with a satisfied sigh.

  That was when my laptop dinged.

  Another job.

  I dragged the device onto my lap with a grunt, scanning the request. Some idiot wanted information on a minor mafia family out of Chicago. How original.

  I clicked my tongue against my teeth, already knowing how this would go. I cracked my knuckles, pulled up the firewall, and within ten minutes I was inside. Sloppy coding. No layers. No real challenge. Honestly, I could've hacked this with my eyes closed.

  After less than an hour—because I was feeling generous—I had pulled the data they wanted and sent it off, job done. Easy money. But boring.

  I closed my laptop with a snap, leaning my head back against the wall behind me. The itch was still there. The restlessness. My fingers twitched, hungry for something more.

  That's when the idea hit me.

  Brownies.

  Spiked brownies.

  The thought alone made me grin. Mischief in edible form.

  I dragged myself into the kitchen again, pulling out the secret stash I kept hidden behind my spice rack. A little flower here, a little magic there. I didn't measure anything precisely—just tossed ingredients into the mixing bowl the way my instincts told me to. The smell of rich chocolate and something greener filled the kitchen, a promise of the trouble to come.

  When they were done, I didn't wait long. I cut out a fat, gooey piece, burning my fingers a little in my impatience. One bite, two bites—and the first tendrils of that lazy, fearless high started crawling up my spine.

  My vision sharpened and blurred at the same time, sounds getting a little louder, colors a little richer. A grin tugged at the corners of my mouth.

  Perfect.

  Now...

  Now I needed something worthy of this high.

  I flopped back into my Cloud Room, cracked my knuckles, and powered up my laptop again. This time, I wasn't looking for paid work.

  I was looking for a challenge.

  I pulled up my custom crawler, letting it scan for the "unbreakable" firewalls the dark web bragged about. Usually it was laughable.

  Tonight, it was...entertaining.

  The first four "impenetrable" systems fell almost too easily. Honestly, it was embarrassing how badly these people lied about their so-called security.

  But the fifth one?

  I sat up straighter.

  This one was...different. Layers of encryption, traps designed to mislead, decoys within decoys. Beautiful work. Whoever built this system actually gave a damn.

  For the first time in what felt like months, I felt the blood rush through my veins in excitement.

  I dug in, methodically, skillfully, weaving through their defenses like a ghost through walls. It took time, and patience, but I made it in.

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  I could have left chaos behind—deleted files, stolen data, planted viruses. But that wasn't my style. Not tonight.

  Instead, I did the opposite.

  I strengthened them.

  I wrote code inside their own, reinforcing their firewall without leaving an obvious trace. A subtle upgrade. A token of respect from one master to another.

  No signature. No footprint.

  The only way they would know I had ever been there was if they realized their fortress was somehow...stronger.

  And even if they did notice, they'd never find me.

  After all, I wasn't called The Ghost for nothing.

  The scent of grilled chicken and melting cheese filled the server room, much to Xander's satisfaction. One hand gripped a thick, dripping chicken burger while the other danced across his laptop keyboard, eyes darting between shipment logs and firewall monitoring screens. Everything was moving as planned — containers were loaded, routes were clean, and guards were stationed exactly where they needed to be.

  Another satisfying bite, juice sliding down his fingers. He wiped it quickly on his jeans, barely slowing his work. This was the rhythm he thrived on — multitasking at a level most people couldn't hope to reach. Fast, efficient, lethal when necessary.

  Then he noticed it.

  Something... subtle. A lag that wasn't there before, but not the usual kind. Faster, smoother — not a failure but an improvement. His brow furrowed. He minimized the shipment tracker, pulling up the main server diagnostics.

  The encryption layers were tighter. Algorithms he hadn't written were reinforcing entry points. New sub-protocols twisted like fine wiring through his original architecture — not sloppy at all. In fact, they were elegant.

  The burger was abandoned on the desk, forgotten.

  Xander leaned in, his fingers flying over the keyboard now, running tracebacks, cross-checking logs. No breach notifications. No system alerts. No data siphoned. Whoever had slipped in had done it perfectly — without a footprint.

  Except for the improvements they left behind.

  Xander's chest tightened. His pride — the fortress he had built with his own hands — had been cracked open and rebuilt without him even realizing it.

  It wasn't just a breach. It was a mockery.

  And it was brilliant.

  He pushed the chair back roughly, the wheels screeching against the tile floor. His mind was a whirlwind of calculations, questions, bruised ego — and a healthy dose of panic he was too proud to name.

  Who the hell could have done this?

  And more importantly... why would they bother to help?

  Xander scrubbed a hand down his face, the grease from the half-eaten burger smearing across his palm unnoticed.

  There was no way — no damn way — he was going straight to Lucian with this.

  Not until he had something resembling an explanation.

  His fingers moved faster than thought as he tapped Rafael's private line.

  If there was anyone who could mediate the shitstorm that was brewing, it was Rafael Castellan.

  The line clicked once before Rafael answered, voice sharp and to the point.

  "What is it?"

  Xander hesitated, a rare crack in his usual cocky composure.

  "We might... have a situation," he said, choosing his words carefully. "Nothing missing. No breach. But... someone got in. And—" he swallowed, his pride scraping against the words, "—they improved our firewall."

  There was a beat of silence. A dangerous one.

  "I'm on my way," Rafael said, then hung up without waiting for more.

  Xander stared at the dead phone screen, running through a hundred ways to explain it better, but nothing sounded right.

  Nothing sounded good.

  All he knew was that soon he'd have to stand in front of Rafael — and worse, Lucian — and admit that Ghost, whoever the hell they were, had played in their sandbox and left without even a thank-you note.

  And somehow... made them stronger.

  Rafael Castellan's arrival at the Milan server hub was timed perfectly, but that did little to settle the unease that clung to the atmosphere like a thick fog. He had been managing a sensitive deal at one of his establishments—an operation that required careful maneuvering and impeccable timing. The calls from Xander had been urgent, though, breaking through the rhythm of the day like a jarring alarm. Xander's voice had a tightness to it, a sense of something unexpected, something... wrong.

  Rafael had hoped it was just another glitch, the kind of minor inconvenience that could be smoothed over with a few quick words and a well-timed intervention. But the moment he walked into the server hub, the air felt charged with something far more serious. He could see the unease on Xander's face, despite the man's usual cool composure.

  "Rafael," Xander greeted, his usual calm tone tinged with something else—uncertainty, maybe even frustration. The slight frown on his face was rare, especially in the face of any kind of challenge. "You've got to see this."

  Rafael gave a curt nod, walking past Xander without a word. He didn't need any further explanation—his brother's right-hand man rarely called him for anything that wasn't serious. Xander was pacing near one of the rows of servers, his fingers running over the control panel as he checked and rechecked the data that was flashing across the screen. Rafael stood behind him, his arms crossed as he watched the information flicker. Xander's hesitation was palpable, and the weight of it hung between them like an unspoken question.

  "Talk to me," Rafael said finally, his voice low but sharp. He wasn't one to waste time with pleasantries. Whatever this was, it was clearly beyond the ordinary.

  Xander turned to face him, his eyes narrowing as he took in the gravity of what he was about to say. "We've been breached, Rafael. Someone got past our firewall. A hacker—whoever it is, they've done more than just slip through. They've changed things, modified the system." He paused, as if still processing the anomaly himself. "And they did it without leaving a trace. This isn't like the usual breaches we've dealt with."

  Rafael felt a flicker of irritation and curiosity stir in his chest. This wasn't supposed to happen. Years of perfecting the system shouldn't have allowed this. The Castellan name stood for precision, for unyielding security—and yet someone had done the impossible.

  "How?" Rafael asked, his tone hardening. "No one gets through that firewall. Not unless they know exactly what they're doing."

  "Exactly," Xander replied, his voice tight. "It's too clean. Whoever this is, they're good. Damn good. They didn't just break in. They strengthened our security, too. I—"

  "Strengthened?" Rafael cut him off. His brows furrowed as he processed the information. The idea of someone infiltrating their systems was bad enough, but leaving behind an improvement? It was inconceivable. "That's not possible."

  "It is now," Xander muttered, his voice barely audible. "I don't know how they did it, but it's there. We've got an upgrade. And no sign of them—no trace. It's as if they were never here. Just a clean job. Not a single clue."

  Rafael's gaze dropped to the control panel once more, his mind racing as the data flickered before him. He could see the evidence of the changes Xander had described, and the sheer efficiency hit him like a gut punch. The hacker had left behind no signature, no hint of their presence, except for the fortified walls now surrounding their server. The stark reality of it was inescapable.

  A hacker, skilled enough to breach the Castellan system and leave behind a stronger defense. Rafael found his pulse quickening as he processed what this meant—someone out there was challenging them, testing them. And they weren't even leaving a trace. The idea of being bested, of someone outsmarting the Castellans, stung deeply.

  "Who would have the audacity?" Rafael muttered, more to himself than to Xander.

  "That's what I'm trying to figure out," Xander said, rubbing his temples as he fought off the frustration building inside him. "Whoever they are, they're playing a game we haven't seen before."

  Rafael's lips twitched into a faint smile at that. He understood the type of mind that would take on a challenge like this. He had met those kinds of people—ambitious, reckless, brilliant. But this one? This was different. Whoever had done this wasn't just showing off their skills. They had something more to prove.

  "You think it's someone we know?" Rafael asked, narrowing his eyes as he considered the possibilities.

  Xander shook his head, frustration still evident in his posture. "I don't know. It doesn't make sense. Whoever this is, they're playing a game we haven't seen before."

  Rafael sighed, his frustration turning inward. "I'll have a word with Lucian." He didn't want to burden his brother yet, but there was no choice. This was too important, too personal. Lucian would need to know the moment he stepped off his plane.

  Xander nodded, relieved to leave the delivery of news to Rafael. As Rafael reached for his phone, he felt a pang of anxiety tighten in his chest. This wouldn't be an easy conversation. Lucian was rarely impressed by anything, and this? This was more than just a technical breach. This was a challenge to the Castellan legacy. Whoever had done this hadn't just broken in—they had taken the Castellans' own fortress and made it stronger. The question on Rafael's mind now wasn't just who had done it, but why?

  With a quiet exhale, he dialed his brother's number. The phone rang twice before Lucian's voice came through—cool and commanding, as always.

  "What is it?" Lucian's tone was sharp, businesslike.

  Rafael didn't waste any time. "We've got a problem," he said. "Someone broke into the server. A hacker. Not only did they infiltrate our system, but they left it stronger than it was before."

  The silence on the other end of the line was deafening, and Rafael could practically feel the weight of his brother's gaze from miles away.

  "I'm on my way," Lucian finally said, his voice as cold as ever.

  Rafael ended the call, his chest tightening. Lucian's words—"I'm on my way."—lingered in the air, but there was no command, no immediate directive. Just that single statement, and the weight of it pressed down on him.

  His mind wandered back to the server, to the hacker's handiwork. The absence of any trace, the seamlessness of it all, struck him deeply. Whoever this was, they weren't just skilled; they were meticulous, precise. They had taken what was a near-impenetrable fortress and, without breaking a sweat, fortified it further. The changes left behind were subtle but unmistakable. It wasn't just an intrusion—it was an undeniable statement.

  Rafael couldn't shake the impression that this wasn't a simple hack, not some rogue trying to prove a point. No, whoever this was had something else in mind. Something far more deliberate, far more dangerous. And for the first time in a long while, Rafael couldn't help but feel the faintest stir of doubt. Who was this person? And what were they really after?

  He ran a hand through his hair, his thoughts clouded with a mix of intrigue and frustration. Whatever was happening here, it was no longer just about tech or security. It was personal. And he knew it was only a matter of time before Lucian would make it even more so.