Off Limits
We were officially under a treaty—a silent, high-tension cold war where the boundaries were clearly defined, but the air between us remained entirely combustible.
I pulled the heavy duvet over my shoulders, staring out at the distant, glittering expanse of the Seattle harbor. The rain had completely stopped, leaving the sky clear, dark, and endless. I knew the hacker was still out there, hiding within the encrypted sub-levels of Peter's own company, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike again. But as I closed my eyes, the image that lingered in my mind wasn't the falling elevator or the dark delivery van.
It was the sight of Peter Ambrose standing in the broken door frame, his white