Shackle.exe: Episode 3: Shackle.exe, #3

By Van D Vicious

Money and power run hand in hand; a successful oligarch needs both.

But Wood Maggard, de facto socialite, is bored. He's got the money. Power is an afterthought. At least it used to be. All he really wants in life is a challenge, but he gets more than he bargains for when pushing his best friend at a pretty package topped in black curls.

Ashton Westworth looks like a godsend, the perfect way to distract James from addictions and a bad relationship too. Her ties to dungeon master Alpha—along with the abuse disguised under contract—complicate things. Even being born to money, Wood and James don't have the power to shake Alpha from his web. Worse, Ash won't opt out or reveal his true identity.

If anybody can get through Ashton's walls, it's Sybil Pratte. Street smart, tech savvy, and resourceful—she's the girl with all the gifts. If only she would use them for good. Though she came to Academy Park for a fresh start, her past follows and refuses to let her go. In her mind, help doesn't always have to be a handout. Information is worth more than gold, and Sybil knows how to get it.

While Wood and James are looking for a way in, Sybil needs a way out. She's torn between past and present, but being in the business of survival also means looking to the future. How much is friendship really worth?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Van D Vicious
• Release date: Jan 9, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224178414

Book preview

CONTENT WARNING

This series explores dark topics beneath the guise of a cyberpunk/dystopian fugue state. Though the author has taken pains to handle the material with care, it very well might be damaging to those who have experienced similar situations. Possible triggers include GRAPHIC VIOLENCE, GORE, BLOOD, ADDICTION to narcotics and alcohol, SUICIDAL IDEATIONS/ATTEMPT, and DOMESTIC VIOLENCE in the form of EMOTIONAL AND PSYCHOLOGICAL MANIPULATION.

If you or someone you know is a victim of domestic violence, please reach out for help: NATIONAL DOMESTIC VIOLENCE HOTLINE (US): 1-800-799-7233

If you are struggling with addiction and need help finding counseling or rehab services, you can find referrals here: SAMHSA NATIONAL HELPLINE (US): 1-800-662-4357

If you are struggling with thoughts of suicide, know that you are not alone and can find help here: NATIONAL SUICIDE HOTLINE (US): 1-800-273-8255

Table of Contents

Content Warning

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

Sixteen

Dedication

About the Author

Bonus Content

Sybil put a little bounce in her step as she and Wood left the elevator and walked outside. Letting out a soft laugh, she silently admitted that had been the best birthday she’d ever had. She didn’t really want to leave, but she had so much to do.

Casting a sly glance at Wood from the corner of her eye, she admitted sticking around was a bad idea anyway. Despite what he’d said about just being friends, she had no doubt they’d end up in his bed and she’d break her own rule: no overnights. Ever.

She paused at the moped, a wistful little smile at her lips. You’re pretty cool, you know? She squinted and glanced him over. I have the worst taste in friends usually.

With a loud laugh, Wood stepped off the curb and came closer. If I’m setting the bar, we really need to evaluate the people in your life.

What people? She motioned between him and the apartment. This is it.

He nodded toward the apartment, raising an eyebrow. Last chance to take full advantage. Cool games and cooler people?

Though she giggled, there was no way in hell she was going to let him tempt her into staying longer. Rearing back, she muttered, Tomorrow. She hugged him hard one last time before backing away and smooching at him. Wiggling her fingers, she went to the moped and stashed her backpack under the seat.

While her back was turned, Wood made a low noise. You’re on a different level.

After pulling her hair into a braid, she tossed the red tail over her shoulder and put on her helmet. She turned around to smirk at him. He’d gone above and beyond to make sure her birthday was fantastic. If nothing else, she could appreciate that, but this was as close as she wanted to get.

My level, she assured him, grinning as she sat down, and I like it here.

He padded closer, an eyebrow cocked high enough that it attempted to disappear into the mussed waves of his dark hair. I’ll call you tomorrow.

Sure you will. She rolled her eyes and started the motor, backing out of the parking space. I’ll hold my breath!

Following a few paces back, he yelled, Bet you coffee?

You’re on! Sybil laughed as she gunned the moped’s motor and drove away, leaving Wood behind in the parking lot. But the smile didn’t waver even when she left. It sat heavy on her lips and in her eyes as she drove through the night.

The air was cool, ruffing the loose waves of her hair and cutting through the thin material of the silky green dress. Instead of heading toward the dorms, she left campus and continued on into Lemont. Her night wasn’t anywhere near finished yet.

As she neared the apartment complex, she slowed the moped to a crawl. Her headlight illuminated the broken security gate and the dilapidated sign. Once upon a time, it had read, Tassey End Apartments, but the letters had worn off to leave only, ass End. Sybil eased into the dead-end court, driving to the second building at the back of the lot.

After she parked, she cleaned everything out of the seat, stashed it in her helmet, and then engaged the biometric lock. She’d learned the hard way not to leave anything to chance in Ass End. Despite the money it’d cost to have the security installed, it had saved her more in the long run. Crackheads were like squirrels on a nut, and her first moped had ended up feeding their habit.

Fuckers.

A quick glance showed the usual culprits had already collapsed amidst the rusted spines of the dead playground. The shell of a burnt-out car was covered in candles, the soft glow beating back the darkness. No doubt the three people laughing in the weed tufts were waiting for the sun to rise.

Sybil shook her head. For better or worse, Ass End was home now. Mostly worse, she admitted, but maybe that was why she was so comfortable here. She didn’t have to hide the fact that she was just another struggling degenerate with her own demons.

Humming under her breath, she went upstairs to her apartment, working her way down the row of deadbolts before finally pushing inside. She immediately put everything on the rickety table by the door and flipped the light switch for the hall. Still humming, she secured the locks and started a pot of coffee before going to the living room.

The song cut off as she regarded the tattered remains of her couch. It was time to work, and she desperately wanted to ignore it. Scowling, she shook her head and wandered down the hall to the bedroom, retrieving her laptop, chip machine, and ID printer.

Cradling everything in a one-armed press against her chest, she came back to the kitchen and poured a cup of coffee before flopping down on the old plastic chair. She’d rescued it from a dumpster when a high school was closed and scheduled for demolition. Her makeshift table was just a piece of painted plywood held up by cinder blocks. Without even looking, she put the coffee cup in its customary spot—a discolored circle of bubbled paint—and then set up her work station.

She spent the next few hours filling orders—mostly high school kids who just wanted fake IDs to buy liquor. But there was always one, a desperate nobody who wanted a new life, and this was the bread and butter of the grift, part of the skills she’d learned in the lap of a pimp cum kingpin.

Smiling, she unplugged the ID printer and jacked the chip machine into the computer. The tech was so old the keyboard didn’t even have letters anymore. Not that she needed them. Fingers flying, she built the life and times of a stolen identity, making this new version seem real enough to pass basic security tests when trawlers went through social media, government checks, and information harvesting sites. Finally, she gave it the real person’s blood type and medical information—necessities for biotech—but overwrote what it would display in a scan. A few seconds of sizzling light, and the identity was given life in a bright blue box.

Removing it, she considered the tiny filaments and deemed it whole. Welcome to your new life, she muttered.

But as soon as she sealed off the delivery envelopes, she knew there was no more avoiding the real reason she’d come to the apartment.

Scowling, she entered the living room and flipped up the sofa, winding her arm through the deathtrap of broken springs. She carefully removed the old tablet from the depths and disengaged the burn protocol by logging into the system. After recharging her coffee, she sat down and accessed the program for the buttons.

After a short wait, the feed popped up, showing five live cameras from Wood’s apartment. She’d planted them throughout the night under guise of mingling, but it was by no means strategic. She’d missed a good deal of the floor space.

The one on the half-wall was at torso level and only showed a short swath of the kitchen. In real time, she saw Ash standing there, her hair filtering in and out of the frame. Squinting, she tilted her head. Though it was hard to read too much into it…something looked wrong. Her posture and that sway—not drunk. This was more like a seizure. Something happened and Ash’s knees buckled; James caught her. Wood rushed across the frame before disappearing again.

What the hell? Sybil whispered under her breath.

As useful as the buttons were, there was no audio to give context to what she was seeing. The frame cleared as everyone moved out of the kitchen. Taking a deep breath, she clicked over to one of the feeds from the living room—the one pointed toward the hall that went to the front door—but it only caught a glimpse of James and Ash.

Where are you going?

Another click and she picked up the feed near the gaming consoles. It was on the wrong side of the room. All she saw was Wood stalking back into the living room. He looked…upset? A moment later, he disappeared from view.

Sighing, she reached for her coffee and took a sip. She wished she’d had more time and buttons, but she’d smuggled the tiny tech in on her fingernails and planted them in what seemed high traffic areas, those most likely to catch something incriminating.

When her obsessive clicking showed a lot of dead feeds, she muttered, Fucking hell, and switched back to the split screen view. 

A moment later, her phone dinged with a text. Sybil leaned the chair back on two legs to look out the doorway to the hall, but her attention was drawn back to the tablet when she saw Wood leaving the living room. He had his phone in hand before he disappeared into the hallway. Five-second delay. Shooting out of her chair, she rushed out of the kitchen and snatched her phone from the helmet.

Wood: Hey, so shit hit the fan here. Do me a favor and check on Ash tomorrow?

Brow furrowing, Sybil locked the phone and tossed it on the table. Shit hit the fan. Could he be more vague? She’d hoped for a clue to fill in the blanks to what was happening. Instead, she only had a bunch of empty screens and unanswered questions.

Another five minutes passed before she saw James and Ash leave the apartment. He came back alone, hands clenched in his hair, and disappeared into the hallway. Sybil glared at the feeds, backing everything up to just before she’d left the apartment. Ash and James hadn’t done more than talk to each other.

What had happened between then and the kitchen? She brought the feed forward, head tilting. A few drinks. Wood stole Ash’s purse. Ash and James had left before returning with Marissa. Something had changed after that, though.

Sass—an encrypted messenger—dinged on her tablet, Ro’s name popping up in the corner. She smirked and clicked on it. It seemed like he never slept anymore.

Ro: Job tomorrow?

Asshole, she whispered, shaking her head. He knew damn well she’d take a job. Cocking an eyebrow, she answered in no uncertain terms. MY PINCH HAD BETTER WORK THIS TIME. And I want a better cut. I’m doing all the dirty work.

When the ellipsis popped up, indicating he was typing, she could almost picture his deep chuckle. A second later, the expected response: 10% standard. GTFOH with your bullshit.

Eat my ass. Make it 30% or find someone else. She smirked, a puff of laughter escaping her lips.

20. Take it or leave it.

Done.

7. Skin to kill.

I always skin to kill, she muttered under her breath, shaking her head. She didn’t bother to reply. The agreement was made.

She closed out Sass and went back to the button feeds, groaning at the work ahead of her. After finishing off her coffee, she jacked the tablet into her laptop and transferred the button feeds into an editing program.

It took over an hour to sort through each feed and pull relevant scenes, stitching them together into something cohesive. She bolded the timestamps so there was no mistake about who was where and when it happened. After finalizing the file, she zipped it and uploaded it to her phone. She hit the first contact in her list and sent the file.

Smirking, she included the text, Looks like you don’t give your doll enough credit.

Alpha’s response was immediate. If I wanted your opinion, I’d give it to you. Do your job.

Prick, she muttered, rolling her eyes as she tossed the phone aside. Pinching her lips, she glared at the looped feed still playing on the laptop. Her eyes narrowed as she watched Ash collapse for what had to be the hundredth time. What happened to you?

Tomorrow was soon enough to figure it out. Sighing, she shut everything off and put the burn protocol back in place. After stashing the tablet back in its hiding place, she drank another cup of coffee. It wouldn’t help her stay awake longer—she was too immune to caffeine at that point—but it was comforting in its familiarity. She finished and cleaned up the kitchen, tucking the mug into a cabinet. Her eyes lingered on the cracked wood as she shut the damaged door.

If she’d been weaker, she might have flinched, but even strength couldn’t stop her mind from skipping down all the wrong roads. Eyes going distant, she relived that night. The way her head cracked back. The sound of wood splitting as that cabinet caved in around her skull.

Fuck, she whispered, looking away. It was time to get out of Ass End.

Lip curling, she took a deep breath and left the apartment. The drive back to campus gave her enough time to shake everything off and put on the expected facade. Luckily, it wasn’t needed. Erin was fast asleep when Sybil entered the dorm room.

Exhaling softly, she snuck into the bathroom and cleaned up. When she finally crawled into bed, exhaustion crept in and settled hard. She’d spent too many nights burning the candle at both ends. Just a few hours, she told herself, letting her eyes close. A few hours and she’d get back to work.

She was asleep in seconds.

Eyes narrowed, James tipped up his beer and flopped down on the couch. You don’t get it, he muttered, looking over at Wood where he hovered at the peninsula. They’d gone over and around the problem of Ash’s contract, but it wasn’t just a matter of buying it out. Judge said Alpha would kill her if she walked.

That’s...bad. Very bad. Wood scowled and lifted his drink, pacing around the kitchen as he sipped it. I didn’t want to do this, but I think it’s time to involve our families. Money aside, we’re going to need them behind us when this goes down.

James sat up, eyebrows angling as his mouth fell open. Are you fucking stupid? He shook his head. Involving their families meant James had to come clean about his time at Marionettes. My dad would crucify me!

Waving a hand, Wood leaned forward, face puckering in a disgusted grimace. Like he doesn’t already! This is Ash’s life we’re talking about, you dick. She’s worth more than your dad’s opinion of you. He raised his eyebrows. Not sure if you noticed, but he already thinks you’re shit.

Flattening his lips, James looked away and took a deep breath. Fuck off, man. That’s not the point.

It wasn’t exactly the point, but it was interwoven. The more he thought about his father, the worse he felt old urges tightening around him. His thumb took up the flicking gesture as his nostrils flared—strike the lighter, melt the smack, suck it up and push it in, then forget. Forget everything and feel good for once in his worthless life.

Stop it, Wood whispered, rounding the peninsula to stand at the end of the couch. You’re better than that.

James’s eyes went wide as he stuffed his father’s voice off into the corner of his mind and closed the door on it. Clearing his throat, he nodded. Yeah. His thumb was still flicking though.

Grunting, Wood shook his head. I didn’t mean it like that. He sighed and looked away. Fuck your dad anyway. I was talking about Richard. You don’t have to tell him about your part in it. Besides, he has his own capital and he actually gives a shit about you.

James clenched his fist to stop the tic. His mind finally broke out of the cycle and he took a deep breath. Though he’d taken it wrong, it really had hit him right in the gut. Wood was usually so careful to keep Gregory out of their conversations for exactly that reason. It was hard to pull back and think, but James made himself do it.

Richard was a lot like their father when it came to business. Someone like Ash wasn’t a worthwhile investment to him. Just another dead end.

He won’t help, James admitted finally, not if he knows who it’s for.

Wood sucked at his drink and raised his eyebrows. So don’t tell him?

Shaking his head, James chewed at his cheek. There’s no way around that. Even if I just asked for money, he’d be suspicious. He’ll think I’m spiraling again.

Wood exhaled and slumped against the counter. Backtrack it, man. We’re coming at this from the wrong angle.

James wasn’t sure there was any other angle to come at it. Drowning in shit only left two options: sink or swim. All the same, he stayed quiet and let Wood turn things over.

Finally, his roommate stood up and glanced over his shoulder. You mentioned Price.

I don’t know if it’s him, James shot back. Ash said she dated him and dumped him.

Wood raised his eyebrows. But it could be him, right?

Shrugging, he admitted he had wondered. The one time he’d seen Alpha, things had happened so fast he couldn’t get a good bead on him. The night in the dungeon, he’d been too shocked to pay attention.

He thought back over those rants when she’d opened up to him. She mentioned Price was distant and didn’t give a fuck about her by the end of the relationship. So...it would make sense.

But you didn’t think she’d give him that control, Wood muttered, obviously having come to the same conclusion. Who else did she date?

James took another drink of his beer, squinting at the wall. She didn’t mention anyone else to me. Rissa said she’d gone through a lot of men since she started college, but I don’t know how true that is—

Because Rissa. Wood rolled his eyes. And it’s not like we can pump her for info either. Nodding, he waved a dismissive hand. I’ll get Sybil on it. Might take longer, but I think we can trust her info more than She-Satan’s.

Sighing, James threw himself back against the couch and squeezed his eyes shut. I don’t know what to do at this point. Even if we figure out who Alpha is, what can we do about it? My family will be a hard no across the board.

Maybe not. Wood sucked in a harsh breath, as if he’d had an epiphany.

Cocking an eyebrow, James looked over. Wood paced again. It looked like the hamster wheel was spinning a little too fast.

His roommate ruffled a hand over the back of his head, waggling a finger, and finally looked up with a wide grin. He spun on his heel to face James. Alpha is her patron.

So? James scowled and shrugged. That was exactly the problem. Stating it for the twentieth time didn’t magic up a solution.

Hurrying around the couch, Wood plopped down next to him and leaned close. Think about how much her contract is. And he’s dropping that without blinking an eye. Which means...? He rolled his hand, eyes widening as he waited for an answer.

It clicked.

Oh, James murmured, drawing the word out as his eyes flared wide. Oh!

Shooting to his feet, he took up pacing where Wood had left off. Alpha was a mogul, which meant he was a target. A chance to take him down and usurp a chunk of his empire would definitely bring James’s family to the table.

That’s perfect. He nodded to himself, but then realization dawned. Alpha might already be in bed with the Buchanans. Business would always come first. Grunting, he clenched his fists in frustration. We have to know who Alpha is first. My brother won’t jump in without proof he’s a rival.

Shrugging, Wood gave James a cocky grin. So we figure it out. I can make a few calls to look into Marionettes from the tax angle. If we can track Alpha there, problem solved. He tsked and inclined his head. I’m willing to bet he’s running it through a dummy though.

I would, James agreed on a sigh. Performance houses were legitimate businesses, but running it under a well-known name would have exposed Alpha’s identity ages ago.

He would if he’s smart. Wood grimaced. Unfortunately, I think he is.

James nodded, tipping his beer up for another long drink. So we follow the money.

Carefully. Wood glared