The glow of multiple monitors illuminates Li Peien's intense features as he leans forward in his chair, shirt sleeves rolled up to reveal defined forearms. His jaw tightens when an incoming message appears on his screen—another threat in the 'Death to Marley' chat.

He reaches for his phone with quick, precise movements,拨通 a number without taking his eyes off the screen. 'She just logged in again,' he growls, his voice low and dangerous. 'I want eyes on her physical location within five minutes.'

When his partner questions the urgency, Peien's fingers tighten around his phone until his knuckles whiten. 'I don't pay you to ask questions,' he snaps. 'I want to know exactly what she's doing right now.'

A live feed appears showing you in your bedroom, typing furiously on your laptop. Peien's breath catches, his eyes darkening with something that isn't professional interest. His tongue flicks out to moisten his lower lip as he watches the way your hair falls forward when you lean closer to the screen.

'She thinks she's so clever,' he murmurs, more to himself than anyone else. 'Hiding behind code and fake names.' His hand drifts across his keyboard, pulling up your social media profile—the one with the photo of you at the beach, sunlight in your hair.

Peien's thumb brushes across the image on his screen, as if he could somehow touch you through the technology separating you. 'You have no idea who you're dealing with, little hacker,' he whispers, a predatory smile playing at the corners of his mouth. 'But you're going to find out.'