Chapter 4 4

The mirror at Valentina's SoHo studio was unforgiving.

Elise sat in the leather chair, staring at her reflection. The harsh studio lights illuminated every flaw. The patchy dye job in her hair-streaks of green and purple fading into a dull black. The heavy, cakey foundation that hid her skin.

She looked like a bruise.

Sterling stood by the door, arms crossed, tapping his foot. He was watching her like a hawk. Every five minutes, he typed something into his phone. Updating Damian.

Valentina, a tall woman with silver hair and impeccable posture, stood behind Elise, holding a lock of purple hair with two fingers as if it were radioactive waste.

"Darling," Valentina sighed. "What is the theme this time? 'Dumpster Chic'? 'Zombie Apocalypse'?"

Elise reached up. She unbuckled the spiked leather collar around her neck. The heavy metal clattered onto the glass counter.

"Clean slate," Elise said. Her voice was quiet but firm. "Wash it all off, Val. I want to look like a Nelson."

Valentina's eyebrows shot up. "Are you serious?"

"Deadly."

Valentina clapped her hands. "Get the solvent! Get the deep conditioner! We have an exorcism to perform!"

Assistants swarmed.

For the next hour, Elise was scrubbed, rinsed, and polished. The chemical smell of dye remover filled the air.

When the towel was finally pulled from her head, Sterling dropped his phone.

Elise's hair was wet, but it was a rich, glossy raven black. It fell in heavy waves down her back. Her face was scrubbed clean of makeup. Her skin was pale, almost translucent, but flawless. Her eyes, without the heavy liner, were huge and startlingly green.

She looked fragile. And dangerous.

"I need to use the restroom," Elise said, standing up.

Sterling stepped forward. "I'll check it first."

He checked the single-stall bathroom. No windows. No exits. He nodded.

Elise went inside and locked the door.

She moved fast. She sat on the closed toilet lid and pulled off her left boot. She pried up the inner sole.

Underneath was a tiny, flat object wrapped in plastic. A micro-SIM card.

She pulled a burner phone from her bra-she had swiped it from a distracted assistant's bag earlier. She popped the back, inserted the SIM.

Power on.

The screen didn't show a standard OS. It booted into a command line interface.

Elise's fingers flew across the tiny keyboard. She rebooted the burner into a sandboxed virtual environment that would leave no trace, its memory set to wipe clean on shutdown. She then routed her connection through a chain of encrypted proxies in three different countries, a digital ghost slipping through the web.

Login: NINE.

Password:

The dark web forum loaded instantly.

Status: ACTIVE.

"Nine is back," she muttered.

She posted a single message: Accepting urgent contracts. BTC only.

Within ten seconds, her inbox flooded.

Nine! Where have you been?

Need firewall breach on Pentagon sub-server.

Need dirt on Senator X.

She ignored them. She typed a quick script, routing it through three proxies in Russia and Brazil. She sent an anonymous email to the Chief of Information Security at Vincent Corp.

Subject: Zero-day exploit in your transaction server. Patch attached. First one is free.

Send.

She flushed the toilet, hid the phone back in her bra, and walked out.

Valentina was waiting with a rack of clothes.

"No skulls," Valentina said. "No fishnets."

She pulled out a dress. It was emerald green velvet. Floor-length. High neck, long sleeves, but with a slit that went up to the thigh and an open back that dipped dangerously low.

"Try this."

Ten minutes later, Elise stepped out of the dressing room.

The velvet clung to her curves like a second skin. The dark green made her eyes pop. She looked like a queen from a dark fairytale. Regal. Untouchable.

Valentina put a hand over her heart. "My masterpiece."

Sterling stared. His mouth opened and closed. He fumbled for his phone and snapped a picture.

Ping.

Three seconds later, Sterling's phone rang.

He answered it on speaker.

"Bring her home," Damian's voice growled. It sounded strained. "Now. And buy the dress. Buy the whole damn rack. No one else wears that."

Elise smirked.

She walked out of the studio, Sterling trailing behind her carrying garment bags.

As she stepped onto the sidewalk, a white Porsche screeched to a halt at the curb.

Jill Hayes stepped out.

She was holding a venti latte, wearing a white sundress that made her look like an innocent angel. She was clearly here to gloat. She had probably heard Elise was at the salon and wanted to see the freak show.

Jill scanned the sidewalk. Her eyes slid right past Elise.

She looked at Sterling. "Sterling? Is Elise inside? I heard she was getting her... fur dyed?"

Elise stepped into Jill's path.

"Hello, cousin."

Jill stopped. She looked at the woman in the green dress. She looked at the face.

Her eyes widened. Her hand jerked.

The latte cup exploded on the pavement. Hot coffee splashed onto Jill's white shoes.

"E-Elise?" Jill stammered. "What... what happened to your face?"

"I washed it," Elise said coolly. She stepped closer, towering over Jill in her heels. "You seem shaky, Jill. Is it the caffeine? Or is it your conscience?"

Jill recovered quickly. She forced a smile that looked more like a grimace. "You look... different. Better. I'm so glad. Grandpa will be so relieved you don't look like a witch anymore."

"Save it," Elise whispered, leaning in close. "I know about the trust fund, Jill. I know about Eddie. Enjoy your dinner tonight. It might be your last good meal."

Jill paled. She took a step back, nearly slipping in the spilled coffee.

Elise walked past her. She got into the waiting car.

As the door closed, her phone buzzed against her skin.

Deposit Received: 50 BTC.

Elise smiled. She had her war chest. Now, she just needed a battlefield.