The next morning, Sunny’s eyes snapped open.
A floating orb of sleek white metal and a glowing blue screen hovered exactly two inches from her nose.
"AHHH!" Sunny screamed, scrambling backwards so fast she tangled her bare legs in the expensive silk bedsheets and crashed hard onto the plush bedroom floor.
The floating drone blinked its bright blue screen face. The digital eyes curved into happy little arches. "Sunny, it’s meeee! Your system! Do not panic."
Sunny groaned, rubbing her bruised elbow as she glared up at the robotic menace hovering near her ceiling fan. "Oh yeah, say that again when you are not all up in my face first thing in the morning."
A low, organic chuckle vibrated from the drone’s speaker. It sounded exactly like a real human man laughing. It was smooth, dark, and sent a fierce shiver sprinting down her spine.
Okay, that gives me the creeps. Why does the AI sound like a seductive villain?
The drone floated down to her eye level, its mechanical parts whirring softly in the quiet room. "While inside your designated safe zone, I can manifest a physical drone to assist you," it explained. "However, when you are outside these walls, I will only pop up in your face as readable text."
Sunny blinked, brushing her messy fiery red hair out of her face. She sat up slowly, untangling the sheets from her ankles. "Oh.. I mean, okay."
She finally calmed down. The sudden spike of adrenaline chased the lingering sleep from her eyes. She was wide awake now, and the reality of her situation came rushing back.
"You need to start your mission, Player Sunny," the system chimed, spinning in a happy little circle.
Sunny nodded, a determined smirk crossing her lips. "Yeah.."
She hit the glass shower fast, letting the hot water wake her muscles up. Today was broad daylight robbery. She needed to be fast, agile, and ready to sprint if things went wrong.
She dug into her magic walk-in closet and pulled out her chosen armor. Faded denim bum shorts that hugged her hips, a tight black halter neck that left her shoulders bare, and a simple black waist bag strapped tight across her chest to hold her phone and cash. She summoned her Phantom Treads, the sleek black boots lacing themselves up around her calves in seconds.
If Donnie catches me stealing his guns, at least I will look good doing it.
Sunny parked the luxury sedan she borrowed from the Viper Boss ten blocks away from the Koria Shipping Yards. The mid-morning sun beat down mercilessly on the concrete as she walked the rest of the distance on foot.
Pier 4 was a buzzing hive of chaos. Forklifts zipped around giant pallets of cargo, their backup alarms beeping endlessly. Dockworkers in bright yellow vests shouted over the roar of diesel truck engines. The air smelled of salt water, exhaust fumes, and sweat.
It was broad daylight. Nobody expected a heist at ten in the morning on a sunny Tuesday.
Sunny slipped through a gap in the rusted chain-link fence, keeping her head down.
Infiltrating the docks wasn’t easy at all. She had to duck behind a towering stack of wooden shipping crates just as a security patrol walked by, holding her breath until their boots faded away on the pavement.
A stray dog barked fiercely at her near a food truck, nearly blowing her cover until she tossed it a crumpled Koria dollar bill to distract its owner.
Then came the real danger.
She rounded a blind corner near the water and bumped right into a burly dockworker carrying a thick metal clipboard.
"Hey! You aren’t supposed to be back here!" the man shouted, his face turning red. He reached for the radio clipped to his belt.
Sunny didn’t hesitate. She tapped into her newly acquired Agility points. She dropped low, sweeping her boot out in a fast arc. The man stumbled backwards with a yelp, his radio clattering across the asphalt.
Before he could even regain his balance, Sunny vaulted over a nearby stack of empty oil drums and vanished into the maze of steel shipping containers.
Sorry, dude. I have an apocalypse to prepare for.
She followed the system’s glowing blue waypoint until she reached a sleek, unmarked black container sitting at the very edge of the pier, right near the crashing waves. The lock was a complex digital keypad.
Sunny cracked her knuckles. System, do your thing.
The lock beeped a pleasant green and popped open.
Sunny pulled the metal doors apart, wincing at the loud squeak of the hinges, and stepped inside the dark space.
It was a literal goldmine.
Crates of matte-black assault rifles lined the walls. Stacks of ammunition boxes were piled as high as the ceiling. Rows of tactical vests, combat knives, and military-grade survival gear sat neatly organised on wooden pallets.
My husband really loves his toys.
Did he know the world was ending?
No, he’s just paranoid.
She got to work. She ran down the narrow aisle, tapping her silver crescent moon pendant against every single wooden crate and metal box she could reach.
Store. Store. Store.
Box after box vanished into the frozen void. The container emptied out in a matter of minutes, leaving only bare steel walls behind.
She reached the very back corner.
The grand prize. Three crates of high-grade explosives packed neatly in protective foam. She tapped the wood, and she finally stowed the last of the explosives in the infinite space.
Mission accomplished. Time to go.
Sunny turned around and took a confident step toward the open container doors.
[WARNING: TARGET APPROACHING.]
The red text flashed violently across her vision.
Sunny froze mid-step. She peeked carefully around the edge of the steel door.
A sleek black SUV pulled to a smooth stop right on the dock, the tyres crunching against the gravel. The back door opened.
Donovan Fallon stepped out.
He looked breathtaking in the morning sun, his silver-framed glasses glinting as he adjusted the cuffs of his pristine tailored suit.
Fuck! He is early! Why is he early?!
Donovan was walking towards her, and she was walking towards him. If she took three more steps, they would hit head-on. The system had to warn her what was about to happen, flashing red arrows in her vision, before she ducked somewhere safe.
She darted out of the empty metal box and threw herself into a narrow, dark storage unit right next door just before Donovan reached the front of his container.
She pressed her back flat against the cold corrugated steel wall of the dark shed, holding her breath so hard her lungs ached.
Donovan stopped at his container. He saw the open doors. He saw the vast, empty space inside.
Sunny squeezed her eyes shut.
Don’t look over here.
Please don’t look over here.
But Donovan noticed something. Maybe it was the fresh scuff of her boot on the pavement. Maybe it was the lingering scent of her vanilla shampoo mixing with the sea breeze.
Footsteps approached her hiding spot. Slow. Calculated. Dangerous.
The bright sunlight was blocked out as a tall, broad silhouette stepped into the doorway of the dark storage shed.
Sunny stopped breathing entirely. She flattened herself against the wall, trying to merge with the shadows. The store she was in was very dark, smelling of old oil and damp cardboard.
Donovan leaned in, his piercing gray eyes cutting through the dim light, searching the darkness. He took another deliberate step forward.
It so just happened that as she was pressed against the wall, Donovan was leaning in to see better. They were this close. She could feel the ambient heat radiating off his body. His scent filled the small space.
She could see the flawless line of his jaw and the subtle flex of his neck muscles. The space between them was practically nonexistent. His chest was inches from hers.
The tension was nerve-wracking to Sunny, sending a wild, chaotic thrill straight to her core. Her heart hammered against her ribs like a trapped bird.
He tilted his head, his face hovering right over hers in the pitch black.
Please don’t kiss me.
Please don’t kiss me.
Please don’t kiss me.