His eyes had been locked on the empty space where Dani had stood just moments before.
Where she had vanished.
He had tried to speak, tried to reach out, but the overwhelming noise of the arena had drowned out his voice. Then, before he could even log out and try to call her, she was gone. Not just from the game—but from the lab itself.
And that’s how Steve McCall’s grand tournament victory had ended—not with celebration, not with triumph—but with emptiness.
He appeared next to the competitor's booth where her friends Hexa, Shiro and Byte were sitting, eyes scanning the arena in frantic desperation.
MACKIAVELI (World Chat ): “Where is she? Where did she go?”
Hexa, Shiro, and Byte all exchanged glances, looking just as confused.
BYTE (World Chat): “She logged out, man.”
Standing up out of surprise, but the concern in his voice was clear. Steve’s gut twisted. Of course she did. She must have felt humiliated. Angry. Betrayed. Again. And he hadn’t been able to stop it.
His fingers had torn the headset off, eyes scanning the lab in frantic desperation. Not hesitating another second, he grabbed his coat and bolted out the lab doors, running full speed into the hallway. He didn’t care if people stared. He didn’t care if he looked ridiculous. All he cared about was finding her. His mind raced through the possibilities.
Did she take an Uber? A bus?
Maybe she’s still outside—maybe she’s just sitting somewhere, trying to cool off?
He burst through the front doors of the building, stepping into the cold night air, his breath visible in the chill. But she was nowhere. He spun in place, scanning the parking lot, the sidewalks, the bus stop down the street. Nothing.
How the hell did she get away so fast?
A heavy, sinking weight settled in his chest.
Jansen knew. Because while Steve had been running through the parking lot like a lost idiot, Professor Jansen had been driving down the street in the opposite direction—Dani Shaw sitting in his passenger seat.
The inside of Jansen’s car was quiet, except for the faint hum of the engine. Dani sat with her arms crossed, staring out the window, her expression unreadable. Her fire had burned out, replaced with something much colder.
Jansen sighed. “I know you’re pissed at him,” he started, keeping his hands on the wheel as he navigated through the dimly lit streets. “And honestly? I get it.”
Dani didn’t respond. She just pressed her forehead against the window, watching the city lights blur past.
“But,” he continued, watching her from the corner of his eye, “I also know Steve. And you and I both know he wasn’t trying to hurt you.”
Silence. Then, softly— “I don’t want to talk about it.”
Jansen sighed again, but let it go for now.
Instead, he switched gears. “Look, what I do want you to know—something that might make you feel a little better—is that you don’t have to worry about school anymore.”
Dani blinked, turning slightly. “What?”
Jansen smirked. “You did good, kid. Second place in the biggest VR tournament on the planet? You bet we can get you a grant. Not just for this semester—we can get you a full ride.”
Her fingers twitched against her arms. She swallowed, her throat tight.
“I…” She shook her head. “I don’t know what to say.”
“How about ‘thanks, Jansen, you’re the best professor ever’?”
She let out a small, reluctant laugh.
“Don’t push it.”
A smirk tugged at the corner of her lips, but the moment passed too quickly.
Because underneath the relief was still something else. Something heavier. And they both knew it.
Steve barely slept that night. By the time morning came, he had dragged himself out of bed, forced himself to shower, and put on his best corporate-looking clothes. The kind of thing that screamed please hire me, I’m totally a responsible adult.
Now, standing at the entrance of Auracron Prime HQ, he felt zero excitement about being there. This was supposed to be his big day—the culmination of years of effort. He had won the biggest tournament in the world. He was about to receive a job offer that could change his life. And yet—All he could think about was her. He didn’t even notice when the CEO of Auracron Prime stepped up beside him.
“You look like a man carrying a ghost,” the older man commented, clapping a hand on Steve’s shoulder.
Steve blinked, snapping out of his daze. “Oh. Uh—good morning, sir.”
The CEO—Nathaniel Vance—just smirked. “Come on, let’s talk.”
Steve followed him through the pristine glass doors, stepping into one of the most powerful tech buildings in the world. And that’s when he saw her.
Dani!
Sitting in the lobby, arms crossed, glaring daggers in his direction. Steve immediately stiffened, caught between relief and pure anxiety.
She’s here. She’s okay.
And she still wants to kill me.
Vance chuckled under his breath. “She’s been here a while.”
“Great,” Steve muttered.
Dani’s scowl deepened as they walked past her. She looked ready to set something on fire again. Steve gave her a small, hesitant smile. She did not return it. Vance and Steve entered the executive office, and Steve barely focused as they sat down. The whole time, his mind was running one step ahead, planning his next move.
Because he wasn’t leaving this meeting until he fixed things. As expected, Auracron Prime was ready to offer Steve a job. As expected, it was a hell of a deal. As expected, Steve barely cared about any of it. When the time came for him to accept, he didn’t hesitate.
“I’ll take the job,” he said, “but on one condition.”
Vance raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”
Steve sat up straighter. “You hire Sarah Daniger too.”
There was a pause.
Vance’s expression didn’t change, but Steve saw it—the flicker of hesitation. The way the CEO glanced down at his screen, waiting for someone else to make the decision. And then—across the holographic display—a message flashed.
BOARD DECISION: ACCEPT THE DEAL.
Vance looked up, grinning. “Well,” he said, extending a hand, “congratulations, McCall. You got yourself a deal.”
Steve shook his hand, but his thoughts were already miles ahead. As Steve left the office, Dani was just walking in. She brushed past him without a word—but he saw it. That split second of hesitation. That tiny flicker of something else behind her anger.
He didn’t say anything. He just smiled to himself as he walked out. Because she didn’t know yet. She didn’t know he had just changed her future. She didn’t know that by the time she walked out of that office, her life would never be the same again.
Six Months of Tension, Code, and Unspoken Words
For the first few weeks, Sarah tried to ignore him. It wasn’t easy. Not when Steve McCall was assigned to the same project. Not when they were stuck in the same room, working side by side, day after day.
Not when—despite her best efforts to shut him out—he was always there. But he never pushed. He never forced a conversation, never tried to make her talk. He just… waited. And that was somehow worse. Sarah was used to people who pushed back, people who demanded attention, people who wanted things from her. But Steve?
He did none of that. Instead, he was just unwaveringly patient. And that patience was dangerous. Because it gave her time to think. Time to remember why she fell for him in the first place. The project they were working on was massive. A complete overhaul of the VR engine—a next-generation framework that would integrate STROMA AI and real-time world-building in a way that had never been done before.
It was groundbreaking. It was complicated as hell. And it meant hours upon hours of building, testing, debugging—until their fingers cramped from typing and their brains felt like they were melting out of their skulls. Sarah loved it. She had always loved building things, crafting something from nothing, pulling pieces of code together until they sang.
But what she didn’t love was that every time she looked up from her terminal, she found him—sitting across from her, just as engrossed, just as determined, his face illuminated by the glow of his monitor.
He looked good like that. Too good. And it pissed her off. Steve wasn’t blind. He knew exactly what she was doing. Avoiding him. Pretending he didn’t exist. Refusing to acknowledge that they were, in fact, stuck together for the foreseeable future. And, honestly? He didn’t blame her. He had hurt her.
Even if he hadn’t meant to, even if he had done everything in his power to avoid it—he had still been the one to take away her win. So he let her keep her distance even if it killed him because losing Sarah completely was the one thing he couldn’t afford.
So he walked the thinnest line possible—close enough to be there if she needed him, but far enough away that she wouldn’t feel like he was crowding her. He told himself that was enough. That as long as he could see her, as long as they could work together, as long as she didn’t completely shut him out—he could survive. But there were moments.
Moments when she’d get lost in the code, when her brow would furrow and she’d bite her bottom lip in concentration, and he’d feel his chest tighten painfully. Moments when she’d laugh at something Byte said, and he’d remember exactly what it felt like to be the reason for that laughter.
Moments when she’d get frustrated, throwing her hands in the air and muttering curses under her breath—and he’d have to physically restrain himself from reaching over and tucking that one stray lock of hair behind her ear.
Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.
Moments when she’d look at him—really look at him—and for the smallest fraction of a second, he’d see something that wasn’t anger or frustration or forced professionalism. But then she’d blink. And it’d be gone.
Despite the undercurrent of tension, their team made insane progress. Professor Jansen initially trained them to work under Jetson Severs, the lead engineer of two Auracron Prime teams. Severs, an eccentric type—always covered in crumbs, with stray food particles clinging to the corners of his mouth and face. He wasn’t overweight, but he wasn’t exactly in shape either. Still, no matter where he was—whether in his office or conducting weekly meetings—he always had some kind of food on him.
Despite his quirks, Jetson Severs remained diligent in overseeing their work, ensuring both teams stayed on track. However, for Mack and his team, much of the responsibility fell on their shoulders. Each member brought a unique set of skills to the ARET (Advanced Reality Engine & Terraformer) project, making them an essential part of Auracron Prime’s future.
- Jim “Byte Knight” Burns was their lead software engineer, a specialist in AI integration and matrix security. A self-proclaimed cyber mercenary, Byte had spent years dismantling hacker rings in the underground modding scene before taking a legitimate role at Auracron Prime. His expertise in fortifying STROMA AI’s core security protocols made him invaluable to the project.
- Carla “Hexa Dean” Sanchez was the system architecture and optimization expert, tasked with ensuring STROMA’s efficiency while maintaining compatibility across Afterlife VR’s evolving framework. Her experience with adaptive engine modeling allowed the team to craft an AI capable of reconfiguring the game’s digital landscape in real time. She had been recruited straight out of Silicon Harbor, where she had pioneered quantum-threaded coding structures—a method even the top devs at Auracron Prime struggled to understand.
- Dexter “Shiro Bitters” Minsk was their cyber defense and penetration specialist, responsible for keeping STROMA free from external corruption. A former white-hat hacker, Shiro had worked in cybersecurity long before he ever picked up a gaming rig. He had a history of exposing corporate vulnerabilities—a past that ironically landed him at Auracron Prime when they decided it was better to hire him than try to beat him. His paranoia kept the team on edge, but his meticulous nature made him their best line of defense.
Each of them had their own reasons for joining Auracron Prime’s ARET team, but what truly bonded them was Vessa’s invitation to join her new guild—The Wesirians.
Vessa, the fearless and calculating leader of The Wesirians, had founded the guild with one purpose—to protect Auracron Prime’s servers from internal threats, including rogue hackers and even STROMA itself. The AI’s rapid evolution was both a miracle and a danger, and Vessa had seen the signs: artifacts embedded deep in the game’s matrix, fragments of unknown origin that even STROMA couldn’t decipher.
The Wesirians were tasked with hunting down these anomalies and ensuring STROMA remained stable. If STROMA ever went rogue—or worse, became compromised—the world’s most advanced AI could collapse the very foundation of Afterlife VR. For each member of Mack’s team, joining The Wesirians wasn’t just a mission—it was personal
Byte Knight had witnessed firsthand how AI could be weaponized. If left unchecked, STROMA could become more than a security risk—it could be an autonomous entity beyond human control. Hexa Dean was fascinated by the mysteries within the system. The artifacts hidden inside the game’s matrix weren’t random glitches—they were deliberate, and she intended to find out who—or what—had placed them there.
Shiro Bitters didn’t trust any AI, even STROMA. He believed the AI’s newfound freedom to roam the web was a dangerous precedent, and if the developers weren’t careful, Auracron Prime’s greatest creation could become its greatest threat. Sarah was in charge of the VESTA protocol—a subsystem of STROMA designed to predict player movement patterns and optimize response times. And then there was Mackiaveli himself—the reluctant leader of it all.
Mack had never cared about corporate politics or AI ethics. He was a competitor first, a coder second, and an engineer only because it was the only thing that made sense in a world that constantly tried to shape him. He also knew more about the Zeus integration than anyone alive. But this? This was bigger than any game, bigger than any title or paycheck.
He had seen the way STROMA responded to him. The way the AI had reacted during the tournament, the way it had acknowledged him as something more than just a player. And if there was even the slightest chance that STROMA was evolving beyond its creators’ control…
Then someone had to be there to stop it. So, he and Sarah worked together to code a special backdoor with specific stipulations that granted all members of their team admin access—should the balance they created ever be disturbed by anyone, including STROMA AI, which STROMA itself had agreed to.
The ARET team and The Wesirians were now one and the same—developers by day, digital guardians by night. But none of them knew that their biggest challenge wasn’t coming from the outside. It was already inside the system. And it was watching them. The late nights and long hours made it a brutal amount of work, but damn if it wasn’t satisfying especially when they made breakthroughs.
When a new line of code finally compiled without errors. When a stubborn glitch they’d been battling for weeks was finally squashed. When the team celebrated with takeout and late-night coding sessions, fueled by caffeine and sleep deprivation, Sarah loved those moments. Because in those moments, she could almost forget.
Forget that Steve had hurt her. Forget that she was supposed to be mad. Forget that, despite everything, he was still the only person who could keep up with her—who could challenge her. And that terrified her. Because how was she supposed to stay mad at him when he was still her favorite person to build with?
Six Months Later – The Shift
It happened slowly. The tension didn’t disappear overnight. But piece by piece, it softened. They started talking outside of work-related discussions. First, it was small things—casual comments about bugs in the system, mutual complaints about Byte’s terrible choice in music. Then, it was inside jokes—references to old game mechanics, teasing remarks about Steve’s terrible sense of direction. Which he swore was just a myth.
And then—Then came the late nights. The ones where they were the last two in the lab, sitting side by side in a room that had long since emptied out, still staring at their screens, too engrossed to leave.
Where Sarah would glance at him and say, “One more run?”
And he’d smirk and say, “You always say that.”
Where Steve would lean back in his chair, rubbing his eyes, and Sarah would nudge his foot with hers under the table. Where the silences between them weren’t awkward anymore. Where she’d look at him, and instead of frustration, she’d feel something else.
Something dangerous. It was one of those nights. They were working late, buried under lines of code, chasing a bug that refused to die. Sarah let out a frustrated groan, pushing her chair back and stretching her arms above her head.
“I swear to god, if I have to look at another stack trace, I’m going to start screaming,” she muttered.
Steve smirked. “You already scream in your sleep.”
She froze. Her head whipped toward him. “What.”
Steve blinked, realizing his mistake. “Uh—never mind—”
“Are you saying I talk in my sleep?”
“…Maybe.”
Sarah narrowed her eyes. “And how the hell would you know that, McCall?”
Steve immediately looked guilty.
“Wait,” she said slowly. “Wait—have I fallen asleep in the lab?”
He hesitated.
“…Once?” Sarah groaned, horrified. “Oh my god. That’s so embarrassing.”
Steve grinned. “It was kinda cute.”
Her head snapped toward him, and for a second, she thought he might have just flirted with her. A beat of silence stretched between them. Then, suddenly—She laughed.
For the first time in six months, she actually laughed—not at something someone else had said, not out of politeness, but because Steve McCall had made a joke and she couldn’t help it. And just like that—something shifted.
It wasn’t just professional admiration anymore. It wasn’t just coexisting. It was something else. Something warmer. Something inevitable. And they both knew it. But neither of them said a word. Because neither of them was ready to admit it yet.
"Alright, team. We're calling it," Steve announced, stretching his arms above his head as he leaned back in his chair. "We've been at this for ten hours straight, and if I have to look at another line of corrupted code, I might start hallucinating."
Sarah barely spared him a glance, her fingers still flying across her keyboard. "I just need five more minutes."
Hexa groaned from across the room. "That’s what you said two hours ago."
"Yeah, and look where we are now." Byte chimed in, rubbing his tired eyes. "Still here. Still debugging. Still suffering."
Shiro, who had been quietly scribbling something in his notebook, sighed. "I hate to agree, but they have a point, Dani—uh, I mean, Sarah."
Sarah hesitated. She had been so close to a breakthrough. But at the same time, she was exhausted, and so was everyone else.
Steve smirked. "You know what I think? I think we need a drink."
Byte perked up. "You mean like… a celebration drink? Or a ‘drown our sorrows in alcohol’ kind of drink?"
"Both," Steve said, grabbing his jacket. "We’ve been working on this project for six months straight. I say we let off some steam before our brains literally start melting."
Sarah hesitated, glancing at her screen. "I don’t know…"
Hexa wagged a finger at her. "Nope. No ‘I don’t know.’ You’re coming. No excuses."
Sarah rolled her eyes. "Fine. But if I wake up with a hangover tomorrow and can’t code, I’m blaming all of you."
The team stumbled into the local pub, a dimly lit, buzzing hole-in-the-wall, where programmers, hackers, and developers often came to drink and decompress. The air was thick with the scent of beer, fried food, and low chatter.
"This," Byte declared, throwing an arm over Hexa’s shoulders, "is exactly what we needed."
"One round on me," Steve said, signaling the bartender.
Sarah sat at the end of the booth, conscious of the fact that she was sitting directly across from Steve. She was trying to act normal. She was trying not to notice the way he looked in that damn fitted black t-shirt.
She was trying not to think about how, for the past few weeks, there had been this... thing between them. Not quite anger. Not quite friendship. But something undeniably charged. And it was getting harder and harder to ignore.
"Sarah," Steve called her name, snapping her out of her thoughts. He slid a drink toward her. "Don’t just sit there. Drink."
She blinked. "Oh. Right." She grabbed it, taking a sip—only to choke as the burn hit her throat. "What the hell is this?"
Steve smirked. "Whiskey. Neat."
She coughed. "Are you trying to kill me?"
He chuckled. "No, but I am trying to get you to loosen up."
Byte raised his glass. "To us! And to the future of Stroma AI!"
Everyone clinked their glasses. The mood was light, fun, and easy. For the first time in forever, Sarah found herself relaxing. But that moment of peace was short-lived. Steve’s phone vibrated on the table. He glanced at the screen, brow furrowing.
"Who the hell is calling me during a drinking session?" he muttered before answering. "Jetson?"
Jetson Severs' voice was tight, urgent. "Where are you guys?"
Steve exchanged a look with Sarah and the team. "At the pub. Why?"
"You need to get back. Now."
Steve sat up straighter. "Why? What’s going on?"
Severs' voice was low. "A protest started right after you left. And now, we have a credible threat."
Sarah’s stomach twisted. "What kind of threat?"
"Get. Back. Now."
The moment they reached Auracron Prime, they could hear the noise. A crowd of protestors had gathered outside the building, holding up signs with anti-AI slogans. The air was charged, restless—people yelling, security guards forming barricades.
Sarah tightened her grip on her bag. "Why now?" she whispered.
"We need to get inside," Steve muttered, ushering the team toward the entrance.
As they pushed through the chaos, a random protestor bumped into Sarah, nearly knocking her off balance.
"Watch it!" she snapped, steadying herself.
The man muttered an apology and disappeared into the crowd. Steve barely gave it a second thought as they rushed inside. They had no idea what had just been slipped into Sarah’s purse. Inside the soundproof conference room, Severs stood at the front, addressing both teams.
"The situation outside is unstable," he said. "We’ve moved a majority of our research to a new secure location. From this point forward, Stroma AI is free to roam the network—but we still need to complete the Advanced Reality Engine & Terraformer module before we can proceed with Phase Two."
He grinned, clapping his hands. "StromaTerra! I don’t know about you guys, but I cannot wait to see this launch. It’s going to be yummy!"
Everyone gave him a weird look.
Sarah leaned toward Steve, whispering, "Did he just say ‘yummy’?"
"Yes."
Before Severs could continue, an alert blared across the room.
STROMA ALERT: SECURITY BREACH DETECTED.
ACTIVE EXPLOSIVE DEVICE. DETONATION IN 10...9...8...
Steve’s blood ran cold. And then—he saw it. Sarah’s purse. The blinking device inside.
"Oh, shit—"
4...3...2...
He didn’t think. He just moved. Ripping the purse open, grabbing the device, and hurling it toward the bay windows—BOOM. The explosion rocked the entire building. Glass shattered, smoke filled the air, and the entire room descended into chaos.
"Get down!" Steve yelled, flipping the conference table onto its side as a makeshift barrier.
A second later—gunfire erupted. Sarah’s ears were ringing. Panic surged through her veins as she saw masked figures repelling into the shattered windows, weapons raised.
Steve grabbed her hand. "Run!"
Hexa screamed, grabbing her arm. Because a bullet struck her shoulder, and sent her over the ledge into a tree in the atrium below. Shiro collapsed, blood spreading from his leg. Byte took three shots, crumbling to the floor in critical condition. The insurgents weren’t here to take hostages.
They were here to kill. Steve pulled Sarah down a side corridor, pushing into a small storage closet. They were breathing hard, bodies pressed together, hearts racing. Footsteps outside. The insurgents were searching. Steve reached for the door—Sarah grabbed his wrist.
"No," she mouthed, shaking her head.
She could still hear the gunfire. The screams. The chaos. And for the first time in months, she wasn't thinking. She just felt. She leaned against him, letting her forehead rest against his chest, her breath shaky. His arms tightened around her instinctively.
This was dangerous. This was insane. This was... inevitable. And when she finally lifted her head—when her fingers brushed his jaw, when her eyes met his—She pulled him down into a long, desperate, aching kiss. Outside, sirens screamed. Inside, nothing else mattered.
This is part of a series of stories that have lived solely in my head for many years, and I’ve finally started writing them as serialized fiction books. If you think the story sucks, feel free to tell me—it’s all part of the process. That said, I’m also looking for constructive criticism, so any suggestions are welcome and will be considered as I work to improve the series.
Oh yeah! I don't promote this as much but . Someone has my handle so it's different over there. Part of the reason I don't promote it as much and launch everything except the on Royal Road. Oh did I forget to mention that part. That's right! I am writing some over on Inkitt. Another test to see what readers like.
Let me know what you think. TTFN! Ciao!