I sat in Dante's room, watching as my brothers huddled around his high-tech workstation. The dim glow from multiple screens reflected off their faces, each expression tense and focused. I sat back, arms wrapped around my knees, fighting the urge to glance at my phone every few seconds.
Those cryptic texts had been bad enough, but after the kidnapping attempt? Now, there was an undeniable tension in the air, and it was making me feel like a mouse being watched by a hidden predator.
Dante's fingers flew across the keyboard with the kind of focus most people reserve for exams or job interviews. But for Dante, this was a thrill—a puzzle he couldn't resist solving.
I could almost see his hacker persona slipping into place. With every tap of the keys, he dove deeper into the digital underworld, searching for traces of whoever had been taunting me with those texts.
