Semua Bab The Pleasure Directive: Bab 11 - Bab 20

Morning came in soft gray.For once, the city’s neon was muted by low clouds. The window’s reflection showed a bed tangled with sheets and two bodies; if Lys didn’t move, she could almost pretend it was a scene from a different life.Kael was still asleep.He lay on his back, one arm flung over his eyes, the other draped heavy across her waist. Sometime in the middle of the night, she’d shifted, and he’d followed, drawn by some unconscious gravity. His hand now rested against her hip, fingers slack but curled like they’d been holding on.He looked younger like this. The hard lines eased. The bruises of exhaustion under his eyes are more visible without the shield of his expression.Husband. Captor. Shield. Seller.Rafe’s words glowed in the corner of her HUD.> He’s the one who sold you, Lys. > Don’t forget why you’re there.She lay still and listened to his heartbeat under the quiet.Then, carefully, she slid out from under his arm.He made a low sound, more exhale than word, and t

By the time Lys made it down to the lower floors, the storm had already started without her.She stepped out of the private elevator into a short corridor that led to Kael’s main office. Voices bled through the closed door—low, male, edged.“…reckless,” an older man was saying. “You parade her in front of Krolov like she’s a toy, and then you’re surprised someone tries to use her to get at you?”“Gavril’s dead, Viktor,” Dima’s voice answered, sharp. “You don’t get to sound like him and pretend you’re any better.”Lys paused just out of sensor range, back against the cool wall.“Aria?” she thought.“Already on it,” Aria said. A second later, the collar buzzed softly as she slipped a filtered audio feed into Lys’s ear. “Welcome to the boardroom.”“She’s a liability,” Viktor went on. His accent was thicker than Kael’s, vowels heavier. “A beautiful one, yes. Useful in limited ways, yes. But you don’t use your own wife as bait. Especially not one with…her history.”“Her history is exactly

The meeting was the kind of thing Kael usually sent other people to die of boredom at.“Delicate,” Dima had called it. “Too many moving pieces. There are too many egos. If you’re not in the room, someone’s going to walk out thinking they won.”Kael had just looked at Lys. “You’re coming.”Now she stood beside him in the mirrored elevator of a luxury hotel, watching their reflections multiply.He wore dark charcoal, tie precise, and a mask of indifference in place. She wore a deep sapphire dress that clung in all the ways the stylist had intended, collar like a black ribbon at her throat, hair pinned up to expose the curve of her neck.“Politician,” Aria narrated in her ear. “Rival. Old money. Old sins. He likes to think he’s smarter than the men who keep his debts quiet.”Kael adjusted his cufflink and glanced at Lys’s reflection.“You think you can behave?” he asked.She smiled, slow. “Give me a definition first.”His mouth twitched. “Don’t start a war in the middle of the hors d’oeu

Rafe’s name didn’t leave when the sun came up.It sat behind Lys’s eyes, a ghost superimposed over everything she looked at. Over the city. Over the collar. Over Kael’s sleeping profile.> CO‑AUTHORIZATION: FIELD OPERATIVE ID: RAFE K–Aria had gone quiet after dropping the bomb, giving her space or just running hot, trying to track more threads. Either way, the silence was its own kind of noise.When sleep finally dragged her under, it wasn’t kind.She dreamed of alleys and hunger. Of Rafe’s hand wrapped around hers as they ran. Of the way he’d let go.Then the corridor changed. Steel walls. A door marked with a symbol she knew too well. Siren’s emblem, cold and clean as a scalpels’ edge.A signature burned above it: PETROV, KAEL.Behind her, Rafe’s voice: *I’ll fix it. I promise.*The door opened onto light so bright it hurt. Elara’s silhouette waited inside, arms open like a mother, hands full of knives.Lys tried to run, but her feet sank into the floor like wet concrete.Hands gra

Rafe’s messages sat in her HUD like landmines.> He’s using you and lying to you. > Meet me. > Or I’ll make sure he knows exactly what you are.Lys muted the channel, but the words didn’t go away. They just echoed under everything else—the hum of the tower, the murmur of staff, the quiet ping of new agenda items.Valeria’s perfume still lingered in the sitting room hours after she left. Smugness seemed to cling to the furniture, too.By late afternoon, Lys’s nerves felt flayed.“Training floor,” Aria suggested. “Hit something. Or someone. Preferably not your husband. Yet.”So she went.The private gym was quieter than usual. A couple of guards ran drills in one corner, but most of the space was open. Mats, bags, weapon racks. The familiar smell of sweat and cleaner.Lys wrapped her hands, going through the motions like muscle memory. Leather creaked under her touch as she adjusted the gloves.She started on the heavy bag.Punch. Breathe. Punch. Breathe.Every strike landed with a