Chapter Sixty-Five: The Partnership

Sloane brought me three names.

She came to my office on a Friday morning. She didn't knock. She just walked in and set a folder on my desk.

"These are the people you asked for," she said. "I've worked with all of them. They're clean. They're smart. They can handle themselves."

I opened the folder. Three files. Three photographs. Three resumes.

"Tell me about them."

She sat across from me. She folded her hands.

"Dana Porter. Former military intelligence. Specializes in surveillance and threat assessment. She's been working private security for five years. She's good."

"And?"

"She doesn't like taking orders. But she'll respect you if you earn it."

I nodded. I moved to the next file.

"Marcus Webb. Former investigative journalist. He worked with Claire on a few pieces. He's good at digging up information that people don't want found."

"Why did he leave journalism?"

"He got too close to the wrong people. Someone threatened his family. He walked away."

I set the file down. I looked at Sloane.

"And the third?"

"Leo Vance. Former FBI. He was in organized crime for twelve years. He knows how Volkov operates. He knows how to track him."

I opened the file. Leo Vance. Mid-forties. Gray hair. Sharp eyes. A photograph of a man who had seen too much and wasn't afraid of anything anymore.

"Can we trust him?"

"I trust him," Sloane said. "That's enough."

I closed the folder. I stood.

"Set up a meeting. Tomorrow. Here."

She nodded. She left.

---

The meeting was at ten in the morning.

Dana arrived first. She was tall. Blonde. She didn't smile when she introduced herself. She just shook my hand and sat down.

Marcus arrived second. He was younger than I expected. Dark hair. Glasses. He looked like a professor. He smiled when he shook my hand. A real smile.

Leo arrived last. He walked in like he owned the place. He looked around. He looked at me. He sat down.

"You're Elena Voss," he said.

"I am."

"I read about you. In the papers. The trial. The evidence. The whole thing."

"And?"

"And I'm impressed."

I didn't respond. I just looked at him.

"Why are you here?" I asked.

"Because Sloane asked me. And because Volkov is a problem I've been trying to solve for twenty years."

I leaned back in my chair. I studied him. He was telling the truth.

"Then let's solve it," I said.

---

We spent the next three hours going through the file.

Marcus had already started digging. He'd found a connection between Marlowe Shipping and a shell company in Cyprus. He'd found a name. A man named Alexei Morozov. Volkov's second-in-command.

Dana had mapped the shipping routes. She'd found a pattern. A gap in the schedule. A window where the cargo wasn't accounted for.

Leo had pulled old FBI files. He'd found a list of Volkov's known associates. He'd found a location. A warehouse in the south of France. The same location Felix had tracked him to.

"It's a trap," Leo said. "He's waiting for us."

"Or he's hiding," Dana said.

"It's both," I said.

They looked at me.

"Volkov knows we're coming. He knows we're tracking him. He's been one step ahead of everyone for twenty years. He's not going to make it easy."

"So what do we do?" Marcus asked.

"We give him something he wants."

They looked at me. They didn't speak.

"We give him a reason to come out of hiding. We give him a target."

Leo shook his head. "You're talking about bait."

"I'm talking about strategy."

"It's dangerous."

"It's necessary."

He looked at me. I looked at him.

"You're not afraid," he said.

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I've already died once. I'm not afraid of dying again."

He held my gaze. Neither of us spoke.

"Then let's do it," he said.

---

That afternoon, I found Adrian in his office.

He was on the phone. He hung up when he saw me.

"The team," he said.

"You heard."

"Felix told me."

"Felix tells you everything."

"He does."

I sat across from him. I folded my hands on his desk.

"We're going to use the company as bait. Marlowe Shipping. We're going to make it look like we're closing in on Volkov's operation. He'll come out of hiding to protect it."

He looked at me. He didn't blink.

"You're not doing this alone."

"I know."

"You're not going to shut me out."

"I know."

"You're going to let me help."

"I know."

He was quiet for a moment. Then he nodded.

"Good," he said.

I stood. I walked to the door. I paused.

"Adrian."

He looked up.

"Thank you. For not trying to stop me."

He didn't respond. He just looked at me.

"I learned a long time ago that I can't stop you," he said. "I can only help you."

I left.

---

That evening, I found Daniel in the living room.

He was sitting on the couch. He was reading. He looked up when I entered.

"You hired a team," he said.

"Felix told you."

"Felix tells everyone everything."

I sat beside him.

"I want to help," he said.

"You already help."

"I want to do more. I want to work with you. For real. Not just staying here. Not just waiting. I want to be part of it."

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 find out what happened to Marcus Chen," I said. "And we make sure it doesn't happen to anyone else."

He nodded. He didn't ask anything else.

---

That night, I sat on the balcony.

Adrian was beside me. He didn't speak. He didn't reach for me. He just sat there.

The city hummed outside. The lights flickered. I watched them.

"It's strange," I said.

"What?"

"Having a team. Having people who work for me. Having something that's mine."

He didn't respond. He just waited.

"I spent so long planning this. Dreaming about it. Living for it. And now it's done. And I have something new. Something I chose."

He was quiet for a moment. Then he said, "That's what living is."

I looked at him. He looked at me.

"I'm learning," I said.

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

"Good," he said.

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

I didn't lean my head against his shoulder. I didn't close my eyes. I just sat there. And for the first time in a long time, I didn't need anything else.