Caleb walked out of the club, the encrypted ledger in his pocket a reminder that he was now officially inside. But this wasn't trust—it was a test. Dante Voss wasn't offering him a chance. He was offering him a trap, and if Caleb played this wrong, he wouldn't get a second opportunity. He kept his pace steady, blending into the crowd as he moved through the city. The neon lights of the district flickered above him, casting shadows that twisted with every step. He needed information. Fast. The ledger in his pocket contained details of the time credit shipment, but it was locked. He had no access—yet.
There was only one place to go. The Black Circuit. If the Time Market had its elites, the Black Circuit was its underbelly, a network of hackers, informants, and traders who operated outside the official channels. It was where secrets were bought, sold, and erased. If anyone could crack the encryption on the ledger, it was them. Caleb took a sharp turn down an alley, following a path he hadn't taken in years. At the end of the passage, a door stood waiting, unmarked except for a tiny digital scanner embedded in the wall. He pressed his palm to it. A second later, the screen flashed green. The door unlocked.
Inside, the air was thick with holographic projections and the sound of machines processing illegal transactions. The Black Circuit was alive, filled with people whose faces were covered by masks or shifting digital disguises. No names. No pasts. Just business. He moved through the room, stopping at a circular booth where a figure sat surrounded by cascading streams of code.
"Still alive, I see," the voice said, distorted through a digital filter. The figure looked up, and for a brief moment, the disguise flickered, revealing a familiar smirk. Lyra. One of the best decryption experts in the circuit.
"I need this cracked," Caleb said, sliding the ledger across the table.
Lyra tilted her head. "And here I thought you were done with favors."
"I don't have time for games."
Lyra sighed, tapping a few commands into her console. The device's holographic interface blinked to life. "This is Dante's," she muttered. "You really do like playing with fire, don't you?"
Caleb didn't answer. He watched as strings of data flashed across the screen, layer after layer of encryption breaking apart. Lyra's fingers danced over the interface, bypassing security walls with practiced ease. Then, she stopped.
Her expression darkened. "You're not going to like this."
Caleb leaned closer. "What is it?"
Lyra turned the screen toward him. The data was clear now. The shipment wasn't just a massive transfer of time credits—it was rigged. The moment the credits entered the market, a silent algorithm would redirect them to an unknown account, erasing the transaction trail. Someone wasn't just trying to steal the shipment. They had already stolen it.
Caleb felt his pulse quicken. This wasn't a security breach. It was an inside job. Someone inside the syndicate had orchestrated this, and Dante either didn't know—or was testing Caleb to see if he could figure it out.
Lyra looked at him, her expression unreadable. "You walk this information back to Dante, and you might be signing your own death sentence."
Caleb clenched his jaw. He had two options.
One—Tell Dante the truth, reveal that the shipment had already been compromised, and risk exposing the fact that someone powerful in the syndicate was playing their own game.
Two—Alter the data, create a false lead, and buy himself time to figure out who was really behind it.
He exhaled slowly. No matter what he chose, one thing was clear. He was in deeper than he had ever been before.