The air in the room crackled with a new kind of energy.Killian sat upright, propped against pillows with quiet defiance as Elena relayed Dante’s findings. Despite the lingering shadows beneath his eyes and the paleness of his skin, his mind was already sharpening like a blade returned to the fire.“They have a mole on the board,” Elena finished, crossing her arms as she paced in front of him. “Thompson is feeding Victor information. And Dante thinks there might be more.”Killian’s jaw clenched. “Of course there’s more. Victor never moves with just one pawn.”Elena paused, watching him. “Then we expose them.”Killian nodded slowly, processing the weight of it. “We'll need proof. Solid proof. Dante has the ledger?”“He’s verifying it now. It’s encrypted, but he’s already cracked half of it.”“I want it all decrypted by tomorrow,” Killian said, his voice gaining strength with every word. “Once we have every name, we schedule a board meeting. I don’t care if I have to walk in there with
His fingers twitched against hers.Elena gasped, her eyes flying open as she stared at Killian’s hand. The movement had been subtle—barely there—but it was real. Not an involuntary spasm, not a phantom hope. She held her breath and leaned in, willing her senses to sharpen, her heart to steady.“Killian?” she whispered, her voice trembling.Silence.Then—another flicker. This time his fingers curled ever so slightly around hers. A faint groan escaped his lips, low and pained but achingly alive.“Killian.” She was crying before she could stop herself. “You’re here… You’re fighting.”His eyelids fluttered.She stood, hovering above him now, both hands cradling his. “Come back to me. Please.”His eyes finally opened. Not all the way, but enough for her to see those familiar storm-gray irises—glassy and disoriented, but unmistakably his.“Elena…” The word scraped out of him like it hurt to speak.A sob tore from her throat. “I’m here. I’m right here.”He blinked slowly, trying to make sens
The air inside the safehouse was thick with the remnants of a war that hadn't fully ended.Elena sat at the edge of Killian’s bed, her fingers curled tightly around his hand. His skin was cold with sweat, pallid beneath the dim golden light spilling in from the corner lamp. Machines beeped steadily behind him, measuring heartbeats and breaths, and the faint hum of an oxygen tank filled the silence between them.She hadn’t moved from that spot since they’d returned.Not when the doctors pushed her back gently. Not when Reid told her they needed to clear the compound in case Victor had left more traps. Not even when Ada Blackwood came in earlier with a storm in her eyes and a thousand unsaid judgments pressing between her teeth.Killian was alive—but barely. The bullet had gone deep, missing his heart by centimeters. But it had torn through enough to make even the doctors exchange grim looks behind closed doors. He hadn't woken yet. And each hour that passed stretched the threads of Ele
The hum of the Manhattan skyline outside Killian’s penthouse felt different now.Colder. Louder. More distant.Killian stood by the glass, unmoving, as if the view itself might offer answers. But none came. Only silence and a gut-deep weight that had settled into his bones.Behind him, the room was still.Everything in its place. Impeccably arranged. Except the man inside it.He hadn’t slept.He hadn’t spoken since the message arrived an hour ago: She has it. She’s coming.“Elena…” He whispered her name like it might shatter if said too loud.He didn’t know whether to run to her or away.Then—three knocks at the door.He didn’t move at first.Then a fourth knock, slower. More deliberate.He turned.His footsteps echoed through the empty space as he approached the door, every muscle taut. For a moment, he hesitated—his hand hovering over the handle.And then he opened it.There she was.Drenched from the storm outside. Hair plastered to her skin. Blood on her shirt from the shoulder wo
The power cut plunged the entire bunker into blackness.For a second, the world held its breath. No sound. No movement. Only the deep, groaning hum of emergency generators struggling to kick in.Then—chaos.Shouts erupted from the auction hall as masked elites scattered like insects under a shattered glass dome. Security scrambled to contain the disorder, their radios hissing with static. Some guests screamed. Others pulled weapons. Everyone ran—toward exits, toward darkness, away from whatever threat they could not see but instinctively feared.And through it all, Elena moved like a shadow.She ran through narrow maintenance corridors slick with condensation, her boots silent against the steel. The bag of stolen evidence was heavy on her back, but her steps were sure. Focused.Lucien had said Checkpoint Seven. Northeast wing. Sub-level two.She was already cutting through level one.Gunfire cracked in the distance—short, sharp bursts. The kind meant to scare. Or kill.Elena didn’t fl
The plane descended into darkness.Below them, the Adriatic Sea shimmered like black silk under a waning moon. The small private island—unmarked on any map—jutted from the water like a phantom. It didn’t look like a place where empires crumbled or fortunes traded hands in blood. It looked abandoned, windswept, wild.But Elena knew better.The auction was being held beneath it—in the labyrinthine tunnels and forgotten bunkers that once belonged to Yugoslavian warlords. The perfect place for people who never wanted to be seen.Lucien’s voice cut through the silence of the cabin. “They’ll scan us the moment we land. Weapons hidden, identities confirmed, and if we’re lucky... no one will recognize your face.”She glanced at him. “I don’t believe in luck. Just leverage.”His smirk was faint. “You sound more like me than Killian these days.”“Let’s just get in, get what we need, and get out alive.”The jet touched down on a sleek black strip that looked more like a relic than a runway. Imme