P E A C H M C C O Y — T H E H A C K E R

There are three words I can use to describe Viktor Makarovich. Cunning, charming and, against my better judgement, devilishly handsome.

I kept my eyes and his gun at him as I slid back into the truck. I put my things in the seat next to me and tried to start the car again, doing my best to keep my eye on Viktor. I must say, he was not what I was expecting. I mean yes I was expecting the tattoos that run up both his arms and the ones on his neck. I was also expecting his tall and large form but instead of burly, Viktor's muscle was evenly distributed on his lean frame.

His hair was more of a dirty blonde, wavy and more on the longer side. I think if he pulled it back from his face, he would make a small ponytail. Instead, he kept it open and wild. When it covered his eyes, all he had to do was tilt his chin to move it to the side. I realised this movement was unconscious because he did it a lot without even thinking twice.

At the beginning of our meeting, I had to admit I was frightened out of my mind and fought to get out of that motel room. Viktor had a bruise on his chin to prove it but the more I sat, calmed down and assessed Viktor, something about him was familiar. Like how you could say you've met a person before just by the way the speak and conduct themselves.

Viktor made me think. He made me use my brain to come up with a plan or solution to a problem, figuring out what to do and how to do it. Viktor was a breath of fresh air. I still feared the Don but there was something utterly refreshing in the way he talked and the way he observed. He assessed a situation and didn't just recklessly jump into it. My brother used to do that, so did my father and it always irked me to no end.

In a nutshell, Viktor was probably going to kill me if given the chance. I could see that blood lust in his eyes. It was like when my brother needed another fix but couldn't find anything until... the white powder was lined on the table before him. The thing was, I'd survived every problem that had come my way and seeing Viktor and how he worked, I knew without a doubt, I was going to survive this too.

Why?

I didn't know yet but my gut feeling had never let me down.

At least I'm hoping...

Fingers crossed.

The car started and I took one more look at Viktor. He still held onto his bleeding shoulder but his smile was sadistically radiant and his soft baby blues held a glint of something both mischievous and frightening. The truth was, killing him would be a mistake on my part. I had the means, I could shoot him but I didn't need the brutal force of the Russian Bratva on my ass. One thing I knew about them, they got their vengeance and I did not want to be on the receiving end of it.

"I'll see you again!" Viktor yelled after me as I pulled the track back and into the road. His voice had startled me before with how deep it was an how the velvety sound was slightly accented but now, the sound run smooth through my ears as water would along my skin.

"I don't doubt it," I told him through the open broken window and I drove off.

I took the truck as fast as it could go. Cloudpass was more of a small town with open roads and not much to look at. At some point, I stopped the truck to slip into Viktor's jacket and assess his gun. It was a beautiful black Springfield XD, with all sixteen rounds of 9mm Luger ammunition. I knew from experience, this gun was about $480. My dad would have loved to have one of these. When he worked as a guard, they only gave then shot guns or rifles with prices between $200 and $300. Money was never enough at home for my dad to go crazy and buy himself one of these.

I smiled but then that quickly dropped and I tucked the gun away. Guns never did my father good. They wouldn't do me any better so I did my best to keep it hidden. I checked the inner pockets of Viktor's coat and found some money and three daggers. Not knives... daggers. They were about 5 inches in length with a nice thick pointed blade. They were in simple dark sheaths and I slipped one into my combat boot. I put the other two in my bag.

Once more, I was back on the road. I stopped by a station to get gas and some snacks with Viktor's money but made sure not to linger. To be honest, I'd done enough driving in the past few days to last a lifetime. I didn't bother stopping when I had a full tank. According to Alexa, my trusty assistant, I was on the right path and was approaching Las Pavita fast. Brookehills was about a five hour drive outside it. I'd be there early tomorrow morning at the rate I was going.

The sun had been out in the morning whilst Viktor had given me the worst hours of my life but now it was covered by dark clouds. It wouldn't be long until we had our first snow. Christmas had always been a good time at home before mom died. It was the one day Peirce, my dad and I coordinated. Peirce and I were in charge of the tree and my dad and mum were on food duty. Our first Christmas without her, my dad cooked alone and my brother and I fought.

"Why are you putting two red Christmas ornaments together like that?" I asked him, my face scrunching up. "Can't you see the whole blue, green, red, gold pattern I have going on."

I stood up from the floor and moved what Peirce had done.

"Hey you little urchin!" Peirce put the red ornament back. "I know what I'm doing."

"Clearly not! If you've been secretly colour blind, you can tell us."

I reached to move the ornament again but Peirce grabbed me. "Peirce let go! I have to fix it!"

"It's fine Peach! Leave it alone!"

We fought then, me trying to reach the tree and him pulling me back. At the time, I was 13 and he was 18. If things had been different, my brother would be excited to go to university but that never happened. Peirce was smart but not everyone got the scholarships they needed. He was good at wood work though. Dad thought it would be good if he went to a vocational school instead. They argued about it a lot.

At first, Peirce was trying to keep me back from the tree but something inside the both of us broke and our movements became more frantic, desperate and uncontrolled.

"Mom liked this pattern!" I shouted accusingly at him. "It was her favourite and we did it the last Christmas you idiot! Let me go so I can fix it!"

"You can't fix it!" Peirce yelled at me and that's when my dad came in wearing an apron and mittens.

"What is going on here!" he shouted. "Peirce let go of your sister! Peach stop whatever is it you are doing!"

My brother and I separated from each other like two similar poles of a magnet, both of us breathing hard. My hair had become undone and it stood out it all directions. I glared at my bother as all the points where he'd held me a bit too hard ached but I was fine with the pain. It fueled my anger.

"Now, I asked... what is going on?" my dad spoke calmly.

"It's not my fault," I was quick to say. "Peirce just wouldn't listen to me! He's ruining the pattern. Blue... green... red... gold...." My voice was breaking because my throat had closed up, the lump and tears in my eyes making me agitated. "It's mom's favourite pattern. Don't you remember? She used to do it all the time and Peirce is ruining it! I just want it to be perfect!"

"It being perfect will not magically make mom appear Peach!" Peirce shouted and me and a whimper left my lips. When I looked at him through my blurred vision, he was crying too. "Mom's gone Peach! Gone!"

"Peirce!" my dad shouted.

"No dad!" my brother yelled back and got to his feet. He surpassed dad in height Now, the two angry and broken black men stood over me who was equally as shattered. "You've refused to talk about mom for months now! Someone has to say something right? Be the man. She's fucking dead, rotting in the fucking ground with a bunch of maggots."

"Peirce..." my dad warned glancing my way. I was not taking this well. My brother turned to me then.

"You want to protect her?" he asked his voice breaking as tears freely flowed down his chiseled cheeks. "Listen here Peach. Mom and I had a game where she'd put two red ornaments together and it was my job to find out where they were. You didn't know that, you didn't ask you just do what you want to make things your kind of perfect. Don't be a fucking bitch next time."

"Enough!" my dad snapped.

"Fuck me keeping my lips shut dad!" he yelled, his pain and anger mixing in a way that his voice sounded like it had more anguish than a man in the front lie of a war. "I-I miss her. I miss her everyday and you all have refused to honour her memory. You all try to either bury her completely or pretend she's here. She's not and I fucking hate it."

That was the first time I saw my brother truly break down. He dropped to his knees and he wept, covering his face with his hands. I was sobbing on the floor and my father wasn't any better. For the first time since the funeral, tears made their way from his eyes into his salt and pepper beard. I crawled to my brother and held him. He shook under me but after a while he held me back. We settled one the floor and started rocking.

"I'm sorry," I cried. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

I couldn't say it enough. My family had been in its first phases of breaking at the time. My dad left us on the floor, his children their own shattered pieces and my brother and I cried until we didn't have anything left in us. We didn't have Christmas dinner. We didn't have presents to open and the tree stayed up until I put it down myself, sometime in July.

We never celebrated Christmas together again. Sometimes, we could be a family. We could crack jokes and go out to dinner or for ice cream. Other times, our house was a military. My dad taught my brother and I to shoot and fight along with anything else he remembered from his time in the army. Though, throughout the whole month of December and November, we never saw each other. It was an unspoken rule. Avoid each other and the memories of that day.

Now, sitting in this car, feeling the icy blast of the passing wind, it was all I could think about. My eyes teared up and I did my best to hold them back. Thinking about everything sometimes became too much so I bottled it up. I took all my feelings and unwanted memories to a dark spot in my mind where I refused to visit them.

I didn't want to ever forget that Christmas though. It reminded me of how everything begun. It was the Genesis of my darkness and you always have to know the beginning to decide whether there can be an ending.