Urban Plundering: I Corrupted The System!

Parker let her go, gently peeling her from his chest, but she was already lost in the heat that had flooded her bloodstream. She stared at the ground for half a second longer than she meant to, trying to remember how to exist.

Her hand—the one that had been pressed to his chest—still hovered midair like it didn't want to forget the shape of him. Her fingers curled slightly, trembling. She stared at them like they were traitors. Her palm was warm, no—burning.

The blush crawled from her wrist up to her collarbone and then all the way to her face like someone had poured scarlet straight into her bloodstream.

Then her eyes snapped up.

Tessa. Naomi. Elena.

All three standing there. Watching. Judging? Smirking?

She couldn't tell. She didn't want to tell.

Tessa's arms were crossed, her brow cocked, lips twisted in that oh really? kind of smile. "Having fun with my man, Atalanta?" she asked, voice carrying too much knowledge.

Atalanta stepped back, hard. "It's not what it looks like."

Naomi whispered to Elena, "It looks exactly what it looks like."

Atalanta's eyes bore straight into Ere. If looks could kill, Ere would've been deleted from every realm in existence. That stupid cat had summoned everyone—

"Snitch," Atalanta mouthed.

But Parker wasn't fazed.

"Come here," he called.

Tessa didn't hesitate.

She was in his arms in two heartbeats, and the second her body collided with his chest, the tension broke like glass in a storm. Her hands clung to him like anchors. Her face pressed to his collarbone, breathing him in like he was air she'd gone too long without.

It was home.

Everything she'd been afraid of—falling apart, the silence between them, the cracks—melted in his warmth. The world could've ended around her and she wouldn't have noticed.

He dipped his head, breath soft against her ear. "I'm sorry."

His voice hit her spine like a goddamn lullaby.

She squeezed him tighter. "I missed you."

She didn't care if the others were watching. She didn't care if the world was watching.

This was her man. Hers.

They stayed locked like that for a moment too long, then finally broke apart—barely.

Naomi fake wiped a tear. "Wow. That was like watching the Notebook but with abs."

Elena just chuckled and headed toward the tree, grabbing water bottles. "Please tell me sparring is over. I don't have the emotional capacity for another romance-action crossover."

Atalanta rolled her eyes. "We were just sparring."

"Sure," Ere said, licking her paw smugly. "And I'm not a chaos gremlin."

And like that, the group fell into step again, laughter and chatter bubbling under the morning sky but Atalanta still couldn't stop glancing at Parker.

And Tessa? She didn't let go of his hand once.

*

They walked back toward the mansion in slow, unhurried steps—Parker like a shadow in motion, Tessa pressed so close it was hard to tell where one ended and the other began. She never let go of his hand. Not once. Not even when the others joked. Not even when Ere made a smartass comment about their "magnetic codependency."

Inside, the house greeted them with its usual quiet opulence—walls too elegant to echo, floors too expensive to creak.

The others peeled off one by one, slipping away with exchanged looks and quiet respect. They didn't need to be told. Whatever stood between Tessa and Parker—whatever had been fraying—was still fragile, and no one wanted to shatter it more than it already was.

They were alone now. Just the two of them.

Parker stood near the center of the foyer, still not saying much. Still regal in his silence. Tessa stepped in front of him, fingers curled slightly, eyes soft—but uncertain. She looked like someone standing at the edge of a confession.

Then her phone buzzed.

She pulled it out. Her brother's name on the screen.

Her smile faltered. Just for a heartbeat.

Decline.

Buzz.

Her sister this time.

Tessa rolled her eyes and declined again.

Parker raised a brow. "You sure you don't want to pick that up?"

She slid her phone into her pocket without looking. "Both of them could vanish and I wouldn't blink. Not today."

He said nothing—but the way he looked at her said enough.

She smiled again—smaller, sadder—and reached for his hand, tugging him gently toward the stairs.

"Come on," she whispered. "Let's go upstairs. Just… us."

And just like that, she led him through the halls, not just as someone who loved him, but as someone holding the broken pieces of herself together for one more chance to make everything right.

They hadn't even made it halfway up the stairs when her phone buzzed again. Same name. Her sister.

Tessa didn't even look this time.

Decline.

Parker watched her with that quiet gaze of his, the kind that peeled back layers without even asking. "You sure?" he asked gently. "Maybe you should consider picking up."

She scoffed. "Please. One's a gold-plated brat who thinks her heels are more important than common sense, and—" she flicked her wrist like she was dismissing a fly—"has only two talents: shopping and acting shocked when her card gets declined."

Parker chuckled. "Let me guess—daddy froze her account?"

"Probably," Tessa muttered, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "Which means now she's calling me to unfreeze it. Or worse—beg on her behalf. I love her, but sometimes I wanna lock her in a Gucci store with no signal and let her cry it out."

He grinned. "And your brother?"

The air shifted—just slightly. Tessa exhaled, like she wasn't sure how honest she wanted to be.

"He's… something else." She leaned on the rail mid-step, looking out at the upper floor like her thoughts had detoured. "He calls to brag, mostly. Every week like clockwork—new deal, new startup, new title he's been handed by one of dad's old partners. Always phrased like a question, but we both know he just wants to remind me that he's the heir. Not me."

Parker didn't interrupt.

She sighed. "We don't talk much. Not like we used to. But…"

"But you care," he finished, and she didn't deny it. He smiled softly. "So one's smart—sounds like a proper successor—and the other's a spoiled hurricane in designer heels."

"That's about right," she smirked.

Parker tilted his head. "And the third?"

Tessa froze.

Her eyes narrowed, and she muttered through her teeth, "That little piece of shit—"

Buzz.

She stopped walking.

Looked at the screen.

Her entire vibe changed.

The name flashed in soft white letters: Father.

And just like that, the humor drained from her face. Her breath hitched. Her fingers twitched.

"This isn't a coincidence," she whispered.

Parker turned, sensing the sudden gravity. He didn't need to ask what was wrong—he could feel it in her aura, like a string had been pulled too tight.

The phone rang again.

Then stopped.

Her eyes were still on the screen.

Then it lit up once more.

The Old Man.

Her entire body tensed.

Tessa didn't wait this time.

She answered. Voice low, cautious, clipped.

"…Hello?"

And Parker watched her—silent, still—already knowing that whatever this was, it wasn't just family drama. It was the storm. The one he'd been sensing since morning.

And it had just started knocking.