Chapter 4: The Transformation

Tiffany’s POV 

Five minutes later, we were shoved into matching salon chairs. 

Apparently, the “premium transformation package” came with champagne, cucumber water, and two stylists aggressively touching our hair without permission. 

I stared at myself in the mirror while a pink-haired stylist sectioned my hair with terrifying confidence. 

“So,” she said casually, “how long have you guys been together?” 

“We haven’t,” Lucas answered immediately from the chair beside me. 

She smiled at our reflections. “Mhm.” 

Lucas looked genuinely offended. “Why does nobody believe us?” 

“Because you argue like people who sleep together,” another stylist said from behind him. 

I choked on absolutely nothing. Beside me, Lucas nearly snapped his chair arm in half. 

"We do not," he said flatly. 

The woman working on his hair snorted softly as she brushed bleach through the dark strands. “Honey, relax. Nobody’s judging.” 

“I am being judged constantly.” 

“That’s fair,” I muttered. 

He glanced at me. “You enjoying this?” 

“A little.” 

“Psychopath.” 

“Asshole.” 

Two hours later, I regretted every life decision that had brought me here. My scalp burned and my patience was completely gone. To make matters worse, Lucas Hale somehow looked even hotter than before, which honestly felt unfair to me personally. 

The stylist stepped back from Lucas's chair with a flourish, clapping her hands together. "And... done! Take a look." 

I looked up automatically and immediately forgot how to breathe for a second. 

Shit. 

His hair was blond now. Not bright, bleached blond, but a darker, expensive-looking shade that softened some of the harshness in his face without making him look any less dangerous. 

If anything, it made him worse. 

Way worse. 

His jaw looked sharper somehow, his eyes darker against the lighter hair, and that permanently annoyed expression only made the whole thing more unfair. 

Yeah. Problem. 

A serious one. 

Lucas caught me staring in the mirror and one of his eyebrows lifted slowly. “You okay there, Barbie?” 

I realized I’d been quiet too long. 

“Yeah,” I answered too fast. “You just look…” 

His expression shifted slightly. “Look what?” 

Unfortunately, my mouth stopped cooperating entirely. Before I could stumble through an answer, the pink-haired stylist gave my shoulders a little pat. "Alright, gorgeous, your turn. See for yourself." 

I shifted my gaze to the glass. 

My blonde hair fell in soft waves around my shoulders, styled and polished in a way that made me look completely different. 

More expensive. More put together. More like Sofia Harper. 

I barely recognized myself for a second. My deep blue eyes looked brighter against the softer hair, and somehow I looked less exhausted than I had in months. Less like the version of me that came from Riverton. 

I stared at my reflection for a moment longer before I felt it. Lucas was watching me too. Slowly, I turned toward him. 

His eyes moved over my face for a second before he looked away too quickly, his jaw tightening right after. 

“There,” he said roughly. “Now you actually look like someone who’d spend ten grand on handbags.” 

I narrowed my eyes. “Was that supposed to be a compliment?” 

“No.” 

“It sounded like one.” 

“It wasn’t.” 

The stylist leaned in and whispered to the other stylist, “They’re so ‘fighting their feelings’ coded.” 

“We can hear you,” Lucas and I said together. 

Her grin only widened. Before either of us could say anything else, Lucas’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out, frowned when he saw the name on the screen, then answered with obvious regret. 

Mercer’s face appeared instantly, and the second he saw us, he burst into laughter. It was not a normal chuckle either. It was a full-on wheeze. He was actually wiping tears from his eyes. 

"Oh, wow," Mercer managed between heavy breaths. "You two look miserable." 

Lucas held the phone farther away like he wanted distance from the sound. “I hate you.” 

“Deeply,” I added. 

Mercer laughed harder. [Worth every damn second.] 

“You put us in a shared house,” Lucas said. 

“You told people we were newlyweds,” I added. 

“The receptionist thinks we’re committing incest,” Lucas finished. 

Mercer lost it all over again, and people in the salon were openly staring at us now. 

I crossed my arms over my chest. "This isn’t funny." 

“It’s a little funny,” Mercer argued. 

“No,” Lucas said flatly. 

Mercer finally calmed enough to lean back in his chair. “Alright, alright. Let me see the final look.” 

Lucas immediately moved the phone away from himself. “No.” 

“Tiffany?” 

I sighed and leaned into frame. 

Mercer’s expression softened immediately. [Look at her. She actually looks like a normal twenty-something for once. God, I hate sending her into this.] “You look good, Tiffany.” 

Something in my chest eased a fraction at the genuine warmth in his thoughts. 

Then Mercer looked at Lucas, and his wicked grin came back instantly. "And Hale looks like a pissed-off Ken doll." 

The salon staff burst into fresh laughter, and Lucas looked exactly one minor inconvenience away from committing a homicide. 

"Careful, old man," Lucas warned. "You’re aging into a retirement home." 

Mercer pointed at the screen. “Still your boss.” 

“Unfortunately.” 

Mercer’s smile finally faded. He was not fully serious yet, but it was enough of a shift to command the room. 

"Listen up. Fun’s over for a minute." 

That got both of our attention. The shift in Lucas was instantaneous. His posture straightened, and his expression hardened into stone. My own demeanor likely mirrored his. 

Mercer lowered his voice. "Scars bumped up the timeline. The Scorpion leaves tonight at eleven." 

Lucas frowned, his brows pulling together. "I thought we had until Friday. Why the rush?" 

“That’s exactly what I need you two to find out,” Mercer said grimly. “Scars doesn’t move a timeline up like this unless something serious forced his hand. To make matters worse, our informant inside his organization went radio silent this morning right after the schedule change dropped.” 

Lucas’s jaw flexed. 

"Dead?" he asked quietly. 

"We don’t know." Mercer rubbed his face tiredly, looking every bit his age for a fleeting second. "But whatever is happening on that cruise, it’s big enough that Scars couldn't wait until Friday. He’s rushing this departure, and we are flying entirely blind. We don't know what this meeting is actually about, or who forced his hand to move the launch up. But something bad is brewing on that ship, and I need to know what it is." 

The brightly lit salon suddenly felt ice cold. Mercer looked directly at me through the screen. 

"Tiffany, I need you sharp in there. If you hear something useful, you tell Hale immediately. I don’t care if it feels insignificant." 

I swallowed hard and nodded once. 

Then his attention shifted to Lucas. "And you. No lone wolf bullshit." 

Lucas scoffed quietly. 

"I mean it," Mercer snapped, his voice leaving no room for argument. "You stay with her." 

"I can protect myself," I cut in automatically. 

"I know," Mercer replied, his tone softening just a fraction. “But Scars notices everything. If he starts doubting either of you for even a second, we won’t get a do-over.” 

Lucas exhaled through his nose, staring at his reflection like he was already done with everything. 

Neither of us said anything for a beat. 

“Listen,” Mercer said quietly. “I know I threw both of you into this fast.” 

“That’s one way to say it,” Lucas muttered. 

"But I picked you for a reason." 

Lucas looked away, but I kept my eyes on the screen. For a split second, Mercer didn't look like our handler at all. He just looked like a stressed-out dad who was terrified for his kids. 

[Please come back alive, you two.] 

A heavy knot formed in my stomach. 

Mercer cleared his throat loudly, instantly snapping back into boss mode. 

“You leave tonight. Pack formalwear. Your weapons are already secured onboard under your aliases. Tiffany handles primary contact. Hale is on security.” 

Lucas nodded once. 

Then Mercer smirked slightly. “And try not to kill each other before departure.” 

“We’ll do our best,” I deadpanned. 

Lucas looked directly into the camera. “No promises.” 

Mercer laughed one last time before ending the call. The screen went dark, and a heavy silence settled between Lucas and me. 

Lucas slipped the phone back into his pocket and turned to me. 

"Eleven o'clock," he said flatly, turning to look at me. “That gives us zero room for error tonight. Don’t mess this up.” 

I stood up from the salon chair and crossed my arms. "I'm not going to mess this up." 

He stared at me, his eyes dropping to assess me for a second. [One mistake and Scars will snap her neck.] 

"He’d have to think about doing it first," I murmured, leaning in just enough so only he could hear. "And unlike you, I’ll see it coming. I’m not a liability, Hale." 

Lucas narrowed his eyes, catching on immediately. "Are you seriously reading my mind again?" 

“I’m not doing anything,” I said evenly. “You’re the one thinking too loud.” 

His jaw tightened. "I hate having a mind reader around." 

“Yeah,” I said softly, turning away. “You’ve been pretty consistent about that.”