Goodbye, My Mate

Chapter 232

Leah's POV

The fluorescent buzz of the internet cafe felt like a swarm of gnats in my skull. I'd chosen this place for its stench of burnt coffee and desperation - the kind of hole where men hunched over screens, their dreams pickled in porn and energy drinks. The clerk at the counter was all greasy hair and nicotine fingers, his eyes widening when I leaned over, my shadow swallowing the glow of his monitor.

"Where's your boss?" I asked, letting my voice fray at the edges, a threadbare thing.

He blinked, throat working. "Who're you? What d'you want with him?"

I smiled, all teeth. "Tell him I'm pregnant with his child."

The lie tasted like rust. The clerk's face went slack, a fish gasping on a dock. He bolted, chair screeching, toward a door marked STAFF ONLY. I followed, silent as a blade, my boots sinking into carpet sticky with spilled soda. The basement door swung open ahead, and a man's roar clawed up the stairs -

"Pregnant?! Is she a blonde? Christ, I shouldn't have gone into that dry cleaner's..."

I pushed inside before the clerk could slam it shut. The room reeked of solder and mildew. The "boss" was a twentysomething kid in a Star Wars shirt, his face a mosaic of panic and acne scars. The clerk lunged at me, hands flapping. "You can't! Get out!"

I sidestepped, grabbed his collar, and tossed him into the hall. The door locked with a satisfying click.

The kid gaped, backpedaling until his knees hit a desk cluttered with circuit boards. "You're not the dry-cleaning girl! I never slept with you! What the hell..."

"Calm down," I said, cutting through his hysteria. "I'm not pregnant. Neither's your dry-cleaning girl."

Pounding fists shook the door. I kicked it once - wood splintered, hinges screaming - and the noise died. The kid slumped into his chair, trembling.

"What do you want?" he hissed.

"Your help."

He barked a laugh. "I'm Seth Horrigan, not Superman. I run a shitty internet cafe. What could you possibly...?"

"Genius hacker. Broke into the Pentagon at thirteen. Stole FBI funds to buy every agent a shawarma. NSA's youngest recruit. Vanished at twenty. Now you're hiding here, a rat in a neon maze." I leaned over his desk, watching his pupils dilate. "Sound familiar?"

Seth yanked a pistol from a drawer, pressing the barrel to his temple. "If you're Mossad... or MI6... or anyone! I'm done. I'll blow my brains out right now. I swear! My brains will be on this table, right now!"

I moved faster than human eyes could track. The gun crumpled in my grip, metal groaning like a wounded animal. Bullets clattered to the floor. Seth froze, breath hitching.

"You're… not human," he whispered.

"Perceptive." I dropped the ruined pistol. "I need you to hack a temperature control system. Blue Ocean Cold Chain Company."

He took out a laptop and keyed in several characters. Then, his laugh turned shrill. "Are you insane? That's the Cosa family's front! You don't mess with those psychopaths unless you want your kidneys in a cooler!"

I pulled out my phone. "Then I'll call the NSA. Let them decide where your kidneys go."

"Wait!" He vaulted over the desk, palms up. "Let's… talk. Like civilized people. What's the play here?"

"Mutual benefit. You help me, and I give you a life. No more hiding. No more rats. Maybe even a home with that dry-cleaning girl you're so fond of."

His Adam's apple bobbed. "How?"

"By making you untouchable." I nodded at his laptop. "Can you do it or not?"

Seth sank into his chair, fingers flying across the keyboard. Google. Google. My lip curled. He clicked through pages, face paling. "Nope. Nope, nope, nope. The Cosa family's got eyes everywhere. Even if I hack their system, they'll trace it back. They'll skin me alive..."

I gripped the edge of his desk, wood splintering under my nails. "You'd rather take your chances with me?"

He swallowed. "...Fine. But we do it my way."

Seth shoved aside a stack of Playboy magazines, revealing a biometric scanner on the wall. The hidden door hissed open, revealing a concrete bunker glowing with server lights. Supercomputers hummed, cables snaking like veins.

"Welcome to my mojo dojo casa house," he muttered, flopping into a gaming chair. "Alright, here's the plan. I'll code a virus disguised as a firmware update. The system'll think it's self-repairing. Clean. Untraceable."

I watched him work, the screens reflecting in his glasses. "How long?"

"Fifteen minutes. Tops." He smirked, arrogance flickering through the fear. "I did crack the Pentagon in five hours when I was..."

"Thirteen. Yes. I've mentioned that."

The room buzzed with static and Seth's muttered curses. I paced, tracing the cold walls. "Why build this?"

"Necessity. NSA had better tech, but at least here, no one yells at me for eating Cheetos at 3 a.m." He paused, squinting at me. "What's your deal, anyway? Vampire? Alien? Government experiment?"

I smiled. "Closer to the bigger kind of canine."

He snorted. "Werewolf? Seriously? Do you, like… howl at the moon? Shed everywhere?"

"I shed men, not fur."

"Cool. Terrifying, but cool." He hit ENTER with a flourish. "Done. Blue Ocean's system's got a digital tumor. Now what?"

"Now you hack Deutsche Bank. Transfer 1.5 billion from my account to a Bitcoin account."

Seth choked. "1.5 bil... Are you buying a country or something?!"

"A house."

"But why?!"

"For your safety. Unless you'd prefer a cardboard box."

He raked a hand through his hair. "This feels… Faustian. Like, soul-selling vibes."

"You worked for the NSA. Don't lecture me about souls."

The transfer took seconds. Seth stared at the screen, awe and dread warring on his face. "It's done. You're… really gonna buy me a house?"

"And a job offer. No espionage. Just… consulting."

"Consulting for what? A werewolf startup?"

I gripped his shoulder, claws pricking his skin. "You'll know when I need you."

He yelped. "Okay, okay! No need for the death grip!"

Outside, the sun hung low, Miami's heat pressing like a sweaty palm. Seth trailed me, babbling. "So, uh… when you turn into a wolf, is it, like, instant? Do you need a running start? Can I take a video..."

I spun, snarling. He skidded to a halt.

"Ask again," I said softly, "and I'll mail your tongue to the dry-cleaning girl."

He mimed zipping his lips. But only for a second.

"So… How does this work? Am I your employee now? Do I get dental?"

"You get to live." I turned, sunlight sharpening my silhouette. "For now."

"Why me? You could've threatened anyone."

I stared at the horizon. "Because you're a rat who dreams of being a man. And I… know what it's like to wear a skin that doesn't fit."

His grin wavered. "Wow, that hurts, boss. So damn hurts."