Phantom's fingers flew over the keyboard. He'd already been on his way to the door when Alvarez called to say the exchange had gone through and that he needed to wipe all digital traces.

Maybe he should've factored that in.

For some reason, it had slipped his mind that a drug deal was happening today. It wasn't really his department anyway, and maybe they'd purposely kept him somewhat in the dark. Still, he'd been the one to set up the fake web shop months ago—the site where communications now took place and deals were being made.

His president could send emails, but anything more technical fell on Phantom's shoulders. So he'd logged into the admin panel, hidden behind multiple layers of encryption.

His phone buzzed. Think it'll take long?

He grabbed his phone and typed back: Should be done in fifteen. We'll still make it in time—and if not, we'll just make a dramatic entrance. 😉

Lola had told him about her dad—an absolute asshole—and her plan to humiliate him tonight. Naturally, Phantom had agreed. He still felt a little guilty for stringing her along, so if this helped her even a bit, he was in.

But first, he had to finish this. He wasn't allowed to leave until he did. It was routine work, not that thrilling, but still, he could feel eyes on him. Axle. The guy was making his skin crawl. At this rate, he might start thinking the idiot actually had a thing for him, though his stare was anything but smoldering.

More like icy cold.

Phantom typed in a code, and the terminal began to spit out data—orders, timestamps, IP addresses... He ran a script and had the files overwritten three times, leaving nothing but digital dust behind.

He continued like that until every transaction, every message, and even the logs of the logs were erased. He ran a fresh scan for cron jobs—automated tasks that could secretly create backups. One script was making hourly backups to a hidden folder on the cloud server. He forced access to the drive, tracked the folder down, and remotely wiped it.

Phantom glanced at the time in the corner of his screen. Thirteen minutes. Right on schedule.

He cleared the last few files, double-checked everything, and logged out. With a sharp clap, he closed his laptop. As he stood up, his eyes met Axle's.

"In a hurry? You sure you didn't leave anything behind? No backups?"

Phantom rolled his eyes. "I know how to do my job."

"You haven't even told my father you're done. Maybe he's got something else for you. Where are you rushing off to, anyway?"

Phantom slid his laptop into its sleeve and slipped his phone into his pocket. "None of your business."

He was planning to call Alvarez. But with Axle hovering, pulling out his phone now felt like caving to his nagging. Instead, he shoved the laptop sleeve into his backpack, called out a goodbye to the two others sitting at the bar, and walked outside.

Only then did he take out his phone and notify Alvarez. Fortunately, there were no further instructions—he was cleared to leave.

It was a two-and-a-half-hour drive to the fundraiser hosted by Lola's dad. Her father was a senator hoping for reelection next month. Phantom still couldn't quite believe it. She came from a world so far removed from his... He'd never met a politician before. Truth be told, he didn't even care to. Thankfully, he didn't have to make a good impression tonight—otherwise, he might have been nervous. Now he could just be himself. The criminal street punk he was—though these days, with a kutte.

He parked his bike outside the hotel Lola had booked. She'd predicted they'd need a few drinks to make the evening even remotely tolerable. Though her dad would absolutely hate seeing them there, he couldn't just kick them out without risking bad press.

The media. Tomorrow, there'd probably be photos of him and Lola everywhere. In newspapers, all over social media. Phantom didn't have any social accounts and didn't read the news, so he couldn't care less.

Lola slid off the back of his bike, and he followed her inside. They checked in and took the key to their room, climbing two flights of stairs before reaching it.

Phantom took a quick shower while Lola changed into an alternative dress with tulle and a purple ribbon corset. Once he was done, she wiped the condensation from the mirror and started on her makeup.

"You look beautiful," he said, pulling on jeans and a T-shirt. He let his hand slide down her back and kissed her temple.

She glanced up with a smile he genuinely wished made his heart race. Things would be so much easier if he could just choose who to fall for. If only he had control over it.

But he didn't.

His stomach stayed calm—so did everything else.

No butterflies. No growing excitement, even though a gorgeous girl was right there, clearly eager to peel off his clothes.

The shame bit down again. Maybe he really should tell her. It would only be fair, right? They'd been together for over a month now. She deserved to know he was into men. He wasn't scared she'd out him anymore. And even if she did, out of spite...

Then maybe he'd deserve that.

But not tonight.
Tonight was about Lola and her revenge.

"Ready to rub elbows with the elite?" she asked in a posh voice.

He grinned. "As long as the booze is top-shelf." He grabbed his jacket from the bed and threw it over his shirt. "Let's go give your father a heart attack."

The event was held in a cultural center for art exhibitions, styled like a historic estate. High arched windows, a sandstone façade, and an ivy-covered colonnade stretching out to the courtyard. Old brass letters above the entrance read The Peninsula, gleaming as if freshly polished. The driveway was paved with dark stone and lined with torches and elegant oaks.

Phantom had never felt so watched. Everyone in their fancy clothes stared as they passed. The fundraiser was for war veterans, so many of them were present too, dressed in ceremonial uniforms with rows of medals on their chests. They gave Phantom far less attention than the rest—but still, he felt like he and Lola left a trail of whispers behind them.

They stepped through the arched doorway into the main gallery, where hosts greeted them and pointed to the coat check.

Phantom and Lola ducked into a small side room to hang up their coats—though Phantom kept his kutte on. Then they followed the crowd into a large room with a marble floor. Dark blue curtains trimmed with gold framed the windows. Some of those windows overlooked a courtyard where a lit memorial stood—a group of bronze statues of determined-looking soldiers.

Inside, cocktail tables with white cloths were scattered across the room. Waiters wove between the guests with silver trays. One paused in front of them, and Phantom grabbed a mini quiche. They drifted toward a nearby table. Around them, people shook hands, exchanged hugs, and admired the various artworks displayed along the walls.

Phantom's mouth curled into a smile when he spotted Nathan near the pianist, studying a series of portraits—close-ups of faces with deep lines, angry scars, and expressive eyes that somehow managed to speak of both pain and hope.

"Nathan's over there in the corner," Phantom said to Lola. "You think he'll come anywhere near us tonight, or is he too scared his reputation will go up in smoke?"

They'd joked about it while gaming. Nathan had claimed Phantom was probably the only person—besides his sister—whose company he'd actually enjoy. Still, Phantom had noticed the nerves, the anxiety about how his father might react.

"Depends how much of a scene my dad makes. Though it'll probably take him a while to show his face. So we should be safe for at least half an hour."

She took two glasses of wine from a tray and set one down in front of Phantom. He wasn't much of a wine guy, but he took a long sip anyway. Maybe it would help him feel less awkward. He'd thought he'd be able to shrug off all the staring, but now he couldn't shake the feeling that every single person here was judging him. Like they saw a man one step from the gutter, someone who'd joined a gang because that's all he'd ever known—as the street kid he was.

Back in his old neighborhood, he'd been just one of many. Even among the Warriors, he blended in to anyone on the outside. But here... Here, everyone had it together, wore expensive clothes, and nibbled on hors d'oeuvres he'd never even heard of. 

Tonight, I'm just going to stuff myself with food and enjoy the free booze. That way, the night's bound to be a good one.

"Lola... what a surprise!"

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lola freeze. For a split second, he thought that sharp voice belonged to her father—but when he turned around, it was a much younger man standing there.

"Bradley." Her voice dripped with disdain, and Phantom was surprised the man didn't even flinch.

In fact, he leaned in to kiss her cheeks, then gave her a long, slow once-over. "You look amazing. Always unapologetically you—I've always loved that about you." His gaze lingered on the tattoo curling around Lola's right leg—one Phantom knew spiraled all the way up to a place many men would be all too eager to follow the ink trail to.

Something told him Bradley already had. There was a tension between them, the kind only exes carried.

"What are you doing here?" Lola asked, outright hostile now.

"Oh, come on. You know your dad likes having me around. He's still hoping you'll soften that icy heart of yours and give me a second chance."

Lola scoffed. A beat later, a sweet smile spread across her lips. She leaned into Phantom, who not-so-subtly wrapped an arm around her waist.

"This is Phantom. My boyfriend."

Bradley's eyebrows nearly shot off his face. Phantom couldn't remember anyone ever looking at him with that much contempt. Like he was filth—not even good enough for the trash heap. "He's only your boyfriend because you want to shock your dad. I know you better than that, Lolita."

"You don't know me at all. Have a lovely evening, Bradley." She turned her back on him, clearly dismissing him. From the flicker of rage on his face, Phantom could tell he wasn't used to people treating him that way.

Phantom itched to push it further. To toss out a crude comment. Something to make the guy's skin crawl—something Lola might even find hot—if only he weren't still pretending to be asexual.

Before anyone could say another word, loud applause broke out. Phantom turned and saw a door had opened. A charming man with pale blond hair, still full of volume despite his age, stepped onto a small platform. He raised his hands with a smile that said the warm welcome wasn't necessary—but he clearly relished it.

Phantom disliked him instantly. Just the way he basked in the attention was enough. Beneath his hand, he felt Lola tense. This had to be her father.

"Welcome," he said, flashing a toothpaste-commercial grin. "Welcome to this gala in honor of our heroes. Tonight, I see faces marked by courage, service, and the kind of sacrifice words could never fully express. To all veterans here tonight: you are the reason we've gathered."

His gaze swept the room, then paused briefly at the table where Lola and Phantom stood. For a split second, his expression faltered—but he recovered quickly, turning the moment into what most guests would take as a dramatic pause.

"This evening is about more than just music, art, and deep conversation. It's a chance to give something back to the men and women who were willing to lay down their lives for this country. And not only to them—but especially to those who, tragically, did lay down their lives to protect others. Many here have suffered immense loss. They've lost loved ones, seen brothers and sisters fall. The proceeds from tonight will support programs focused on the mental health of all our soldiers—and, just as importantly, their families. Because as we all know, the battle doesn't end at the front lines. For many, it only begins once they return home."

Murmurs of agreement rippled through the room. People nodded solemnly.

"And what a perfect setting this is for such an event. The art you'll see tonight was created by veterans, for veterans. Some of it even with veterans, during workshops that blend imagination and healing. So—enjoy the evening. Admire. Be generous. And don't forget to talk to each other. Recognition begins with listening." He gave a nod. "Thank you."

Applause erupted.

Even before the clapping faded, two large doors opened to reveal a spacious adjoining room. Lola looped her arm through Phantom's and led him ahead of the crowd.

A large part of the new space was taken up by rectangular tables with modest floral arrangements. Moonlight streamed through the glass dome above, creating an atmosphere of quiet reverence.

For some reason, Phantom hesitated at the threshold. So many people here had faced enemy fire. They had fought for their lives, not even knowing if they'd get anything in return.

And here he was.

A hacker with two murders behind his name—one of which he'd committed as a damn teenager. And the only reason he was here?

To flip off the man running the show.

An asshole. Let's not forget that. A hypocrite who kept emotionally punching his broken daughter just because she wasn't the perfect little civilian girl he wanted her to be.

Through the glass doors at the back, he spotted a courtyard strung with lights and fire pits, offering a cozy retreat for anyone feeling overstimulated.

He already wanted to go there.

"How about a drink?" he suggested to Lola.

She glanced around, searching for her father. Something in her posture shifted—her shoulders dropped, just slightly. "Yeah," she muttered.

They walked to the bar, where he ordered something strong for both of them. Lola looked like she could use it, and their hotel was within walking distance anyway.

She let out a deep sigh and took a small sip.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

Her eyes drifted toward the corner of the room, where her father was shaking hands, surrounded by admirers probably complimenting him on his speech and charitable efforts.

"I should've known this wouldn't work. He's just ignoring us. Pretending I don't exist."

Phantom stared into his glass for a moment, then looked at her. "Then I guess we'll just have to misbehave." He gave her a grin, though he felt a little unsure about it. "Of course, that might hurt your own reputation, too."

She shrugged. "Couldn't care less. What did you have in mind?"

"Oh, you know. Too much booze, a steamy kiss that just happens to be caught on camera, and maybe a sexy little dance on the table."

She laughed, eyes lighting up again. "That would definitely get me disinvited for life. No way he'd ever invite me back after that."