8:45 P.M. – Blume HQ

The office was empty except for the low hum of servers and the faint, annoying flicker of fluorescent lights. My eyes were dry and aching from staring at the screen too long, the hours blurring together in a haze of endless drafts and project notes. I glanced at the clock—8:45 PM. I should've left hours ago, but here I was. Again.

I leaned back and rubbed my temples, glancing at the empty rows of desks around me. All these endless nights, all this time spent translating the same mind-numbing documents… and for what? A corporation that had turned manipulation into an art form.

With a frustrated sigh, I opened the bottom drawer of my desk, where a few personal items lay hidden under a stack of old files. I pulled out a small, worn photo. Not the typical happy family picture people kept on their desks. It was a grainy, faded shot—me on a motorcycle, leaning against a broad-shouldered man in a leather jacket. A time when I'd been someone else. A different name, a different life.

My jaw clenched as I shoved the picture back into the drawer, slamming it shut. I'd managed to leave that life behind—barely. I scraped together a life, enrolled in college, and eventually landed a job at Blume. The pay was decent. The work was routine. It was safe.

Until Dusan Nemec walked into my office one day, smiling that infuriating smile, and called me by my old name.

I still remembered how cold his voice was when he casually dropped the details of my past—details no one should have known. He'd leaned in close, whispered threats wrapped in honeyed words, promising to let Him and the Sons of Ragnarok know exactly where I was if I didn't cooperate. If I didn't stay loyal.

He called it "insurance." I called it a leash. And I'd been on it ever since.

My phone buzzed, startling me out of the dark spiral of thoughts. I dug it out of my pocket, eyes narrowing at the screen.

Wrench:
How's it going, Teags?

I rolled my eyes at the nickname, but a small smile tugged at my lips. I typed back before I could talk myself out of it.

Teagan:
Same old. Still at the office.

The reply was immediate.

Wrench:
Damn, don't they ever let you out of there?

I glanced around at the empty office, feeling a bitter laugh bubble up. I was always the last one to leave. The one they counted on to stay late, to pick up the slack, to make up for everyone else's incompetence. I typed back, fingers moving faster than my brain.

Teagan:
Nope. Apparently, I'm the only one capable of holding this place together.

Wrench:
Bullshit. They're just squeezing you dry.

I stared at his words, feeling something hot and heavy twist inside me. He was right. It was bullshit. Blume wasn't just taking my time—they were taking everything—my identity, my freedom, my choices. All of it held hostage by one arrogant, power-hungry prick who thought he could bend the world to his will.

My gaze drifted to the drawer I'd slammed shut, to the hidden photo of a girl I barely recognized.

My phone buzzed again, dragging me out of my thoughts. Again.

Wrench:
You still there?

I blinked, shaking myself out of it.

Teagan:
Yeah, just… thinking.

There was a pause. Then:

Wrench:
Careful with that. Thinking's dangerous.

I huffed a laugh, shaking my head. Leave it to Wrench to make light of everything. But before I could reply, another message came through.

Wrench:
You know you don't have to stay there, right?

The words made my heart skip. It seemed so simple when he put it like that. But it wasn't simple. Quitting would mean losing everything—my paycheck, my security, my one way to keep a low profile. It would mean stepping out into the open, a target painted on my back for anyone who wanted to take a shot.

Teagan:
It's not that easy.

Wrench:
It is. You just don't want to admit it.

I stared at his response, feeling my throat tighten. As much as I hated to admit it, he was right. I didn't want to admit that I was scared.

I tossed the phone back onto my desk, rubbing my face with both hands. The phone buzzed again, but I ignored it. My gaze drifted around the office—at the empty desks, the silent screens, the way the fluorescent lights buzzed like a faint, mocking laugh.

How many nights had I spent like this? Alone, working late into the night, pouring my life into a company that would drop me the second I became inconvenient?

My phone vibrated again. I reached for it slowly, glancing at the new message.

Wrench:
You deserve better than this place.

The breath left me in a sharp exhale. I stared at the message until the words blurred. Did I deserve better? Or was this just the price I had to pay to keep my past buried?

I stood abruptly, grabbing my jacket. Shoving the phone into my pocket, I marched toward the door, the sound of my footsteps echoing through the empty office.

I needed to get out. Get some air. Get away from the screens, the suffocating fluorescent lights, the cold, sterile emptiness of it all.

I stepped outside, feeling the bite of the evening breeze on my face. I glanced back at the Blume building, the towering glass and steel monstrosity glowing in the dark like a beacon. It didn't feel like a place of power; it felt like a cage.

My phone buzzed again.

Wrench:
Want to meet up?

I hesitated, thumb hovering over the screen. Did I want to meet up? Wrench's company would likely mean distractions—talking nonsense about tech mods and obscure memes that made no sense. But right now, a distraction sounded... exactly like what I needed.

Teagan:
Sure. Where?

The reply was instant.

Wrench:
The diner on 8th. I'll buy you a shitty cup of coffee.

Despite myself, a small smile tugged at my lips. It was small, tired, but real.

Teagan:
You'd better. I'm holding you to that.

The Diner – 9:30 P.M.

I slid into the booth across from Wrench. He was already halfway through his cup of coffee—if you could call it that. His mask flashed a grinning emoji as he leaned back.

"Hey there, workaholic."

"Hey yourself," I muttered, shrugging out of my jacket. The waitress dropped a steaming cup of sludge in front of me, and I eyed it with suspicion.

"It's terrible," Wrench said cheerfully. "But it'll wake you up."

"Good to know," I replied dryly, taking a tentative sip. It tasted worse than it looked.

Wrench chuckled. "Told ya."

I set the cup down, staring at it for a long moment. "Why'd you ask me to come here?"

He tilted his head, like he was raising an eyebrow behind that mask. "Why'd you agree to come?"

I huffed, shaking my head. "Touché."

Silence settled over us, the hum of conversation and clinking dishes filling the space around us. It felt... different from the office. Less suffocating.

"I'm serious, though," Wrench said, pulling my attention back to him. "You're too good for Blume."

I looked away. "You don't even know me."

"Maybe not," he said lightly. "But I know enough."

"Yeah?" I muttered. "How so?"

His mask shifted slightly, like he was studying me. "I know you're smart as hell. I know you've got guts. And I know Blume's never going to give you what you deserve."

His words hit like a punch to the gut. I gripped the edge of the table, feeling the weight of everything pressing down. He didn't know the half of it. He didn't know the years I spent running, the lengths I'd gone to escape that life. And now, I was stuck again.

"I'm just saying," Wrench continued, his voice softer now. "You don't owe them anything. Not Dusan, not Blume. You deserve better."

I stared down at the cup in front of me, watching the steam curl lazily into the air.

"I just…" I started, my throat tight. "I don't know if I can do it."

Wrench leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "Maybe not today. But one day, you're gonna walk out of there and never look back. And when you do…"

He paused, the animated grin on his mask softening.

"We'll be there." He paused. "Hopefully."

There was something in his voice, something that made my chest tighten. I couldn't respond, couldn't trust myself to speak. I just nodded, staring into my coffee as if it held the answers I couldn't find.

10:15 P.M.

Wrench and I sat in the booth long after the coffee had gone cold. The low buzz of conversation from the late-night diners drifted around us, and the fluorescent lights overhead cast a harsh glow on the scuffed linoleum floors. But for the first time in days, I didn't feel like I was suffocating.

We hadn't said much since his last comment. I just... didn't know what to say. He'd hit too close to home, cut too deep with those words. You don't owe them anything. I wanted to believe that. I needed to believe that.

But it wasn't that simple. Blume wasn't just a bad job or a corporate nightmare. It was a trap. A noose tightening around my neck a little more every day.

"Earth to Teagan," Wrench's voice broke through my thoughts. I looked up to find his mask flashing with a pair of curious eyes.

"What?" I muttered, my fingers wrapped around the ceramic mug. The coffee was cold, but I didn't care. It gave me something to hold onto, something to focus on besides the mess swirling in my head.

"You've been staring at that cup like it holds the secrets of the universe." He tilted his head. "What's going on in there?"

"Just... thinking," I said, shrugging slightly.

"Dangerous habit, I tell you." His voice was light, but I could sense the concern underneath. "Want to share with the class?"

I huffed a laugh, shaking my head. "You wouldn't understand."

"Try me," he countered, leaning forward slightly. The animated eyes on his mask were bright, intense, like he was studying me. "I'm pretty good at the whole 'understanding people' thing."

I hesitated, the words catching in my throat. Why was I even considering opening up to him? Wrench was... Wrench. A smartass hacker with a flair for chaos. Not exactly the kind of person you poured your heart out to. But there was something in the way he looked at me—something patient, almost steady—that made me want to.

"It's just…" I choked on a sigh, staring down at the chipped surface of the table. "Never mind. It's a long story."

"I'm not going anywhere anytime soon."

I shook my head, the bitterness clawing its way up my throat. "It's the leverage he has on me."

Wrench's fingers drummed lightly on the table, his posture stiffening. "What about it?"

"He has connections," I admitted, voice barely above a whisper. "People who would love to know where I ended up. If I leave, if I make any wrong move... it'll just drag me into the shit I tried so hard to dig my way out of."

Wrench leaned back, the animated eyes on his mask narrowing into a focused glare. "So he's keeping you there through fear."

"Yeah," I whispered, surprised at how hollow my voice sounded. "I guess you can say that."

Silence stretched between us, heavy and fraught. I glanced out the window, watching the headlights blur past. Maybe Wrench was right. Maybe I could break free. But the consequences... What if I wasn't strong enough to face them again?

"Teagan." His voice was low, almost gentle. "You don't have to do this alone. You've got options. You've got us."

I looked back at him, frowning slightly. "Us?"

"DedSec," he clarified, shrugging like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "We've got your back. Whatever Dusan's got on you, we'll burn it to the ground."

His certainty made something inside me tighten painfully. Did he really think it was that easy? That I could just... walk away?

"You're oversimplifying things," I muttered, staring down at my mug again.

"Am I?" He tilted his head, and I could hear the smirk in his voice. "Or are you just scared to take the plunge?"

My jaw clenched. "I'm not scared."

"Yeah, you are," he said softly. "And that's okay. But don't let that fear keep you from doing what you need to do."

I squeezed my eyes shut, breathing deeply through my nose. I wanted to snap at him, to tell him to mind his own damn business. But I couldn't. Because he was right.

"What's the alternative?" I whispered, my voice strained. "If I quit... what then?"

"Then you fight," he said simply. "You stop letting him hold all the cards."

I looked up at him sharply, meeting his gaze through the mask. "And if it blows up in my face?"

"Then you'll have DedSec behind you," he replied firmly. "We'll fuck him up real nice."

There was no hesitation in his words, no doubt. Just... belief. I swallowed hard, my chest tightening painfully. Did I really have the guts to do it? To leave Blume and throw myself back into the fire?

But I couldn't keep living like this. I couldn't keep letting Dusan dictate my life, make me cower under his shadow.

"Teagan," Wrench murmured, his voice soft but insistent. "Don't let him win."

The words hung in the air, heavy and electric. I took a deep breath, trying to steady my racing heart. Maybe it was time. Maybe it was time to stop running and start fighting.

"Okay," I whispered, more to myself than to him. "Okay."

He didn't say anything, just nodded slowly. The animated eyes on his mask softened, the sharp lines melting into something gentler. Something almost... encouraging.

"Whenever you're ready," he said quietly.

I stared at him, feeling a strange mix of fear and resolve churning inside me. It wasn't much. It wasn't everything. But it was a start.

"Yeah," I murmured. "Whenever I'm ready."

We sat in silence for a while longer, the world outside the diner blurring into the background. And for the first time in what felt like forever, I was able to ignore my thoughts and have a proper moment of respite.