Chapter 101
Isabella Sinclair grabbed the drunkard by the collar and effortlessly tossed him into a dumpster, as if discarding a crumpled receipt.
She slammed the lid shut and, for good measure, placed a heavy cinder block on top.
Brushing off her hands, she cast one last disdainful glance at the trash bin.
Her movements were fluid, almost choreographed—like she’d done this a hundred times before.
“Some people should really learn their limits,” she murmured, her voice soft but razor-sharp, like shattered crystal.
The warning was clearly meant for Ethan Blackwood and Sophia Kensington, lurking in the shadows.
Unfortunately, neither of them took the hint.
Ethan froze, realizing the issue wasn’t his men’s incompetence—it was Isabella’s terrifying, unrelenting strength.
But he was in too deep now.
Turning back would be like abandoning a sinking ship mid-storm.
So, with Sophia at his side, he continued trailing Isabella, only to watch her slip into the entrance of a decaying warehouse, vanishing into the darkness like a ghost.
Sophia hesitated, unease creeping into her voice.
“Ethan… I don’t like this. This place feels like a death trap, and now she’s just… gone.”
Ethan frowned, scanning the crumbling surroundings.
“Stay calm. She has to be close.”
He couldn’t fathom how someone like Isabella had evaded them so effortlessly.
Just as he turned to retrace his steps, a sharp click echoed behind them.
Ethan spun around—the warehouse door had been bolted shut from the outside.
He threw his weight against it, but the iron frame didn’t budge.
Panic flashed in Sophia’s eyes as she pounded on the door, her voice trembling.
“Someone’s out there! Help! Please!”
From the other side, Isabella’s voice dripped with lazy amusement.
“Oops. My hand must’ve slipped. But don’t worry—it’s just an empty warehouse. Nothing dangerous inside… right?”
Ethan slammed his fist against the door, his face twisted in rage.
“Isabella, you’re absolutely vile!”
In his fury, he accidentally jammed his broken finger, sending a bolt of agony through him. Cold sweat beaded on his forehead.
Sophia gritted her teeth, realizing they’d walked right into another one of Isabella’s traps.
Isabella scoffed.
“Vile? All I did was defend myself. Since when is that a crime?”
Amateurs like them had no business tailing someone out of their league.
“If it’s just an empty room, I’m leaving,” she called over her shoulder, disappearing into the labyrinth of alleys without a second glance.
“I don’t have time for trash.”
With the ease of someone who knew every hidden corner, Isabella made her way to a sprawling underground warehouse.
She tapped her boot against the worn concrete floor, triggering a hidden mechanism. A massive steel door groaned open from the wall.
Pressing her fingerprint to the scanner, she stepped inside as the heavy door slid aside.
Dust swirled in the air as she fumbled for the light switch.
The room flickered to life, revealing rows upon rows of monitors—silent sentinels embedded in sleek, humming servers.
At the center stood a colossal mainframe, coated in a thin layer of neglect.
“Still don’t understand why the Master insisted on burying all this in Ontdale,” Isabella muttered, rolling up her sleeves and getting to work.
After a few minutes of tinkering, she managed to revive most of the machines.
But the central mainframe refused to start.
Too long dormant. Too damaged.
Without hesitation, she grabbed a toolbox and began meticulously dismantling the components, her hands moving with surgical precision.
Lost in her task, she barely noticed the passage of time—until a soft beep shattered the silence.
The machines whirred to life.
Suddenly, the walls around her illuminated as the monitors flared up, displaying the image of a pink-haired girl smiling sweetly.
The contrast with Isabella’s icy expression made the scene anything but innocent.
The hologram’s voice was saccharine yet unsettling:
“Welcome back online. Ready to reboot the hacker world?”
A prompt flashed on the screen.
Isabella didn’t hesitate. She clicked Confirm, swiftly entering her credentials.
Navigating through layers of security protocols, she typed in her username.
Just as the system began rebooting—
BOOM.
The entire room plunged into darkness.
Isabella stared at the blank screens in disbelief.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
All that work—gone in an instant.
The reboot had triggered a complete blackout.
Frustration coiled in her chest as her gaze flicked to the sliver of moonlight filtering through the basement window.
Trying to handle everything alone was maddening—like wrestling a storm she couldn’t control.
She needed backup. Skilled hands.
Meanwhile, far away in the Burnt Isles of Leswington, a scarred man in a tailored suit sat rigidly before his computer.
The holographic game he thought long-dead flickered—just for a second.
The sudden burst of light made him leap from his chair.
“The hacker world… has restarted!”
His eyes narrowed dangerously.
That brief flash confirmed his worst fear—the woman who dismantled his empire was still alive.
And worse—she was now operating overseas.
His lips curled into a snarl as he barked at his men:
“She’s still out there. Find her. Wherever she is—bring her to me.”
His voice dropped to a venomous whisper.
“I swear… I’ll make her pay.”
