LOGINThe door opened without a sound.Not a creak.Not a click.Just the quiet surrender of a lock that had already been defeated.The first man slipped inside, gun raised, movements precise and unhurried. The bedroom lights were low, shadows pooling thick in the corners. The bed dominated the space, a figure beneath the covers, still and unsuspecting.Target acquired.He lifted two fingers and gestured once.The second man entered, already scanning. His gaze flicked to the bed, then to the bathroom door, then to the open walk in closet.Movement.The faint rustle of fabric.The first man adjusted course instantly.“Not the target,” he murmured, voice barely air.Roman Thorne stood inside the closet, pulling on a shirt, back half turned, mind still on the woman he believed was waiting for him in bed.He sensed it a split second too late. The shift in the air. The pressure. The instinct that screamed danger.He turned... and saw black.A figure lunged out of the shadows.Roman reacted on re
Marcus arrived ten minutes early again.This time, it was intentional.He parked across the street from Jace’s building, engine idling, fingers drumming once against the steering wheel as he checked his reflection in the rearview mirror. Calm. Warm. Approachable. Exactly what Jace needed to see.He reached into the passenger seat and picked up the flowers.Nothing extravagant. Nothing that screamed effort. Just a simple bouquet, tasteful and soft, chosen carefully to feel spontaneous rather than planned. The kind of gesture that said I thought of you without saying I calculated this.Marcus stepped out of the car and crossed the street, posture relaxed, expression already adjusted into something gentle.Jace answered the door almost immediately. His eyes widened when he saw the flowers.“Oh,” Jace breathed, clearly caught off guard. “You didn’t have to...”“I wanted to,” Marcus said easily, holding them out. “For last night. And for tonight.”The effect was immediate.Jace’s shoulders
Across town, Senator Vauxhaul stood in his study, jacket draped over the back of a chair, tie loosened, expression carved from irritation and ambition. He had been watching the news cycle shift all week, watching Elena Sinclair’s name fade from suspicion and begin its slow rehabilitation.He didn’t like it.His phone buzzed.Mrs. Harrow.He answered with a measured calm that didn’t touch his eyes. “You’re calling earlier than planned.”“They’re covering for her,” Mrs. Harrow said, venom sharp in every syllable. “Your precious systems. Your careful delays. It’s not enough.”The senator exhaled slowly. “We agreed on pressure, not chaos.”“My detective is gone,” she hissed. “And I will not be patient while they erase my husband.”A beat.Then Vauxhaul’s voice hardened. “What did you do.”“I moved,” she said simply. “You should do the same.”He closed his eyes briefly, already calculating the fallout. “If you’ve triggered what I think you have...”“Then you’ll finally get results,” Mrs.
Jace had already made peace with the ache.Not the healthy kind. The quiet, resigned kind that slid in when hope got tired of fighting.He’d told himself it was nothing new. That this was how it always went. He liked too much. Expected too much. Read warmth where there was only politeness. And eventually, he was the one left holding feelings no one had asked for.He sat on the edge of his couch, phone face down beside him, staring at the floor like it might offer answers.You’re fine, he told himself again. No one owes you anything.That was when his phone buzzed.Once.Jace flinched like he’d been caught doing something wrong.He didn’t pick it up immediately. His chest tightened first, reflexive, protective. Experience had taught him that notifications weren’t always kind.Then he saw the name.Marcus.His breath caught.“What…” he whispered, already reaching for the phone before he could stop himself.He read the message once.Then again.Then a third time, slower.An apology.An
Marcus leaned back in his chair, chest heaving, sweat dampening his shirt. His hands shook once before he clenched them into fists.“You’re fast,” he breathed, staring at the screen. “Faster than I expected.”A slow, humorless smile crept across his face.“But not fast enough.”He wiped his hands on his jeans and leaned forward again, rebuilding firewalls even as he spoke under his breath.“You shouldn’t have started this, Elena.”Because now he knew.She was awake.She was suspicious.And she was hunting.Marcus cracked his neck, eyes hardening as the last of the panic bled away and something colder took its place.If Elena wanted answers, he’d make sure she found exactly what he wanted her to see.And next time?He wouldn’t be reacting.He’d be ready.Meanwhile, deep inside the Thorne estate, Elena’s calm finally cracked.“Son of a...”Her fingers flew across the keyboard, screens reflecting sharp light across her face as lines of code collapsed in on themselves. One firewall fell.
Jace's phone stayed silent.He finally set it face down on the bed and exhaled slowly, forcing himself to stand.He told himself he’d give it time. That patience was better than pressure. That if Marcus wanted to talk, he would.Still, as he moved through his small kitchen, making coffee he barely tasted, one quiet realization settled deep in his chest, for the first time since they started talking, Jace felt like he was the one chasing.And he had no idea whether Marcus even noticed.The coffee went cold on the counter.Jace didn’t notice.He stood there, mug in hand, staring out the window at a city that was already moving on with its day, and his thoughts spiraled the way they always did when disappointment dug its claws in.This isn’t the first time, his mind whispered unkindly.It never was.He thought of the pattern he hated admitting existed. The way things always started bright. Promising. How men leaned into him when it was convenient. When he was fun. Easy. Safe. And how, th







