Chapter Seventy-Three: The Waiting

Three weeks was a long time.

Long enough to plan. Long enough to prepare. Long enough to second-guess every decision I'd made.

I didn't second-guess. I worked.

Marcus and Dana flew to Marseille. They spent a week mapping the port. The security. The schedules. The blind spots. They sent back photographs. Coordinates. Notes.

Leo pulled old FBI files. He found the warehouse's history. Its owners. Its connections. He found a weakness. A single point of failure.

Felix coordinated from the penthouse. He monitored Volkov's communications. He tracked his known associates. He watched for any sign of movement.

I stayed in my office. I read every report. I studied every photograph. I memorized every detail.

Adrian stayed close. He didn't hover. He didn't push. He just stayed close.

On the tenth day, he found me in my office at midnight.

I was at my desk. I was reading Dana's latest report. I didn't hear him come in.

"You should sleep," he said.

"I'm not tired."

"You're never tired."

I looked up. He was standing in the doorway. He looked tired. He looked like he hadn't slept either.

"Neither are you," I said.

He didn't respond. He just walked to the chair across from my desk. He sat down.

We didn't speak for a while. The city hummed outside. The clock ticked.

Then he said, "I've been thinking."

"About what?"

"About what happens after. After Marseille. After Volkov. After everything."

"And?"

"I want to build something. With you. Something that isn't about revenge. Something that's just ours."

I looked at him. He looked at me.

"What kind of something?"

"I don't know yet. But I want to figure it out. With you."

I didn't respond. I didn't know how.

He stood. He walked to the door. He paused.

"Think about it," he said.

He left.

---

The next morning, I found Daniel in the kitchen.

He was making tea. He didn't hear me come in.

"Daniel."

He turned. He looked tired. But he also looked something else. Something steady.

"I've been thinking," he said.

"About what?"

"About what comes after. After Marseille. After Volkov. After everything."

"And?"

"I want to stay. In the city. With you. I want to build something too."

I looked at him. He looked at me.

"You don't have to," I said.

"I know. I want to."

I considered this. I thought about everything he'd been through. Everything he'd survived.

"Okay," I said.

He almost smiled. Almost.

"Thank you," he said.

"For what?"

"For letting me stay. For letting me help. For being my sister."

I didn't respond. I didn't know how.

We sat there. The city hummed outside. The clock ticked.

After a while, he said, "What's our first move?"

I looked at him. He looked at me.

"We wait," I said. "And then we finish this."

He nodded. He didn't ask anything else.

---

That afternoon, I met with Felix.

He had a report. Volkov's communications had changed. He was talking to someone new. Someone in Marseille. Someone who was helping him prepare for the shipment.

"Who?" I asked.

"We don't have a name yet. But we have a location. A hotel in the city. He's been there three times in the last week."

"Can we get someone inside?"

"We're working on it."

I nodded. I looked at the report. The photographs. The coordinates.

"He's preparing," I said. "He knows we're coming."

"We don't know that."

"He knows. He's not stupid. He knows we're tracking him. He knows we're planning something."

Felix didn't respond. He didn't need to.

"We need to move faster," I said. "Before he does."

"We're moving as fast as we can."

"Move faster."

He nodded. He left.

---

That evening, I found Adrian on the balcony.

He was standing at the railing. The air was cold. He didn't notice.

I stood beside him. He didn't turn.

"Volkov knows we're coming," I said.

"I know."

"He's preparing. He's talking to someone in Marseille. Someone who's helping him."

"I know."

I looked at him. He looked at me.

"We need to move faster," I said.

"We will."

"He's not going to wait. He's not going to let us take him. He's going to fight."

"Then we fight back."

I didn't respond. I didn't know how.

He reached for my hand. He took it. His fingers were warm. Steady.

"We're going to win," he said.

"How do you know?"

"Because I know you."

I looked at him. He looked at me.

I didn't lean my head against his shoulder. I didn't close my eyes. I just stood there. And for the first time in a long time, I believed him.