Chapter 30
Skylar kept tapping her forehead against the smooth surface of the white table. The sharp thud echoed lightly in the cold, dim room. Black headphones clamped around her ears, pressing her silver-white hair down like a crown of static. The soft hum of electricity vibrated through the desk, matching the rhythm of her pulse.
On the screen before her, a digital database rolled like a waterfall of numbers, glowing blue and red, pouring downward in endless columns—like code-rain slicing through the air. The only colors in the room were the neon bleed from the screen and the occasional flicker of red light from the ceiling—silent, watching. The air tasted like dust and burnt wires.
Then something tapped her shoulder—light, hesitant.
She turned sharply.
