Chapter 693
Chapter 693:
I pulled the muscle car up alongside them. Parker practically jumped out of his skin.
“Skye! Thank God!” Parker hissed, rushing to my window.
“Parker, what are you doing here?” I demanded. “I told you to stay at Julian’s estate. It’s the only safe place p>
“I couldn’t!” Parker stammered, wringing his hands. “The code… the algorithm for the Neon Abyss machines… I saw a pattern remotely, but I needed to interface directly to prove it. I tried to sneak out, but Victoria caught me p>
The window of the red convertible rolled down an inch. Victoria peered out, looking pale and completely out of her element in a silk scarf and sunglasses at night.
“I wasn’t going to let him get murdered alone,” Victoria said, her voice trembling but defiant. “Someone had to drive the getaway car. He doesn’t even have a license p>
“You two are idiots,” Alistair growled from the passenger seat.
“Get in the muscle car,” I ordered Victoria. “Your convertible is a beacon. Leave it here. You’re staying in my car while we go inside p>
“I’m coming with you!” Parker insisted. “You need me to hack the terminals p>
“Fine,” I said, rubbing my temples. “Parker comes. Victoria, you stay in the muscle car. Lock the doors. Keep your head down. If we aren’t back in an hour, call Liam p>
Victoria scrambled out of her car and into the back of mine, clutching her designer bag like a shield. “Just… just hurry up. This place smells like regret and gasoline p>
Alistair checked the gun holstered beneath his denim jacket. “Stay close to me, Skye. Parker, don’t touch anything unless I say so. If things go south, we burn the place down and leave p>
“Deal,” I said.
We stepped out of the car, leaving Victoria hidden in the shadows of the back seat, and walked into the neon-drenched night.
The air inside the Neon Abyss was thick enough to chew. It smelled of stale beer, ozone, and desperate sweat.
о𝗿𝘨𝘢n𝗂z𝗲 𝗒o𝘶𝗋 r𝘦𝖺d𝗂n𝗴 𝗹𝘪𝗌𝗍 оո 𝘣𝘦.𝗰𝗼𝘮
Techno music pounded against my skull, a relentless rhythm designed to keep heart rates high and wallets open. The lighting was strobe-heavy, disorienting flashes of purple and green that made it hard to focus on faces.
We moved through the crowd. Alistair was a solid wall at my back, his presence creating a small pocket of space amid the crushed bodies. Parker stuck to my side like a burr, his hood pulled low, eyes darting around nervously.
I scanned the room. It was packed with rows of arcade cabinets, but these weren’t the innocent Pac-Man machines of the past. These were sleek, chrome-plated monstrosities with hypnotic LED displays.
I stopped in front of a machine called “Fortune Wheel.” A skinny boy, no older than sixteen, was feeding tokens into the slot with mechanical precision. His eyes were glazed over, fixed on the spinning lights.
“Hey,” I shouted over the music. “Is it fun p>
He didn’t blink. He didn’t even hear me. He just kept feeding the machine.
“Dopamine loop,” Alistair shouted in my ear. “They’re using casino-grade psychological triggers. Look at the flash rate p>
I looked closer. The lights pulsed in a specific rhythm. It was mesmerizing.