Spellhacke- M. K. England Page 0,52

us.”

“And then? After that?” Davon asks.

“I DON’T KNOW,” I snap, far louder than is really smart, given the circumstances. But I don’t care. Can’t care. It’s all so much. My head’s louder than the most crowded club in town, and I can barely think.

Davon watches me with a careful expression, automatically switching to Diz Gloves mode. Caution: Watch for thorns. Handle with care. He purses his lips, then nods. “MMC could take care of you, you know. If you take the job. You wouldn’t be the first black-market siphoner they’ve hired. They could use your skills.”

“Before, yeah, sure.” I bite my lip and look away, taking one breath, two. Time to let myself admit it out loud. The truth that doesn’t matter anymore.

“I was gonna take the job, you know. I really was. But now that my last siphoning job blew up one of their stations and killed some of their employees? Not gonna happen.”

“But it wasn’t you. The evidence is right here. I know the people in charge of IT, Diz, and they’ll be reasonable. I’ll tell them where to look for the evidence, and they’ll look. They’ll find it, and they’ll come to the same conclusion you did. And they’ll hire you, because you’re amazing at what you do, and they’ll protect you, because MMC protects its own. They need people like you, and you need them. You have a sweet deal here. And it’s not off the table yet.”

“DOWN HERE!” a harsh voice shouts from the direction of the station. Far down the tunnel, three lights bob and grow larger as the sound of splashing boots draws closer. The ominous click of weapons being readied sends a jolt of adrenaline straight to my heart. Davon’s eyes go wide, and he takes me by the shoulders.

“Go,” he says, nearly a whisper. “I have my badge with me. I’ll tell them I was investigating the accident.”

“No, you’ll get in trouble, you’ll lose your job,” I say, gripping his sleeves and trying to drag him with me. I can’t have that on my conscience too. His job means so much to him.

“I won’t,” he says, giving me a gentle shove away. “I’ve got good security clearance. It’ll be fine. Go!”

I hesitate another second longer, then finally turn and take off with reluctant steps in the opposite direction.

Please let him be okay. The rhythm of every footfall is filled with my silent begging. Please, please, please, please. Once I’m far enough away, I reach into my pocket and lob my tiny drone into the air to scout the tunnels ahead for more MMC security guards. A moment later, a notification pops up in my lenses.

Davon: I’m fine. They believed me, and we’re cataloging the evidence together now. They’ll know it wasn’t your fault.

Please message me later, Diz. I’m serious.

I still want you to stay here and work with me. We’re family, right? It’ll be fine. Your job offer is still safe. I’ll take care of you. Promise.

I bark a harsh laugh in the echoing cavern of the sewer tunnel.

Yeah. Right. I’m sure Davon believes all of that with his whole heart, but I wouldn’t take that job if they offered me a million credits.

Because I’m pretty sure it’s Maz Management that wants us dead in the first place.

Thirteen

THE SUN IS WELL ON its way to full morning, turning everything to golden softness, by the time I finally get back to Ania’s neighborhood, ready to collapse.

I walked. The whole way. My feet ache with blisters, and my legs are screaming at me to just sit the hell down already.

I nearly caved and called a RidePod no less than seven times, thinking I’d just risk creating a new profile to link to one of our shell bank accounts. Too dangerous, though. Not when I’m still the only one of our group who knows what happened. Call me paranoid, but I even kept silent on messaging and calls all night too. Didn’t wanna be tracked or intercepted. The downside of being a hacker—you know exactly how insecure all your info really is.

I slip through the trashcan-lined backstreet behind Ania’s row of houses as quickly as I can, trying to play it as natural as possible, like I totally belong here. As if anyone could ever believe that, especially with me stained and stinking like sewage. Again. History repeats itself in truly obnoxious ways sometimes.

The ground-level window I left through is still open when I get back to Ania’s house. I can picture exactly how