With the same icy accuracy, the wind ripped across the terrace, cutting through silk and silence.
With the metropolis behind him and the skyline of San Francisco blazing like the devastation of a war, Sebastian stood. His heart pounded like a drum in a locked room, but the whiskey in his glass hardly moved. Her aroma lingered between them, a combination of ocean salt, amber, and something more substantial: regret.
Since he gave her the dossier, Audrey had been silent.
Her blouse was unbuttoned and forgotten, clinging damply to her skin as she sat on the kitchen's marble edge in the penthouse. There was a full, unopened glass of wine next to the open file. She wasn't examining the intelligence reports, the transcripts, or the hazy pictures. She seemed to be waiting for him to blow out since her eyes were fixed on him.
"You were followed," Sebastian said, his voice low, measured.
"No," she murmured. "I was delivered."
His eyes darkened. "What does that mean?"
Audrey closed the file with a whisper-soft snap and looked at him fully. "It means someone wanted you to find me. And wanted me to know that you did."
Like a hand squeezing his chest, the words hung in the air, heavy and unseen.
Sebastian moved closer, closing the distance between them one inch at a time. "Heretic," he murmured, his tone suddenly frosty. "Lucien isn't only watching. The strings are being pulled by him.
Although Audrey's jaw tightened, her quiet was more audible than any outcry.
Gently, he lifted her chin with his hand. "Did you know he was still alive, Audrey?"
Her breath caught. For a fraction of a second, her mask cracked—and Sebastian saw it: the sorrow, the guilt, and something far worse. Fear.
"Yes."
The word didn't just land—it struck. Like a sniper's bullet through trust.
Sebastian recoiled slightly, letting her go. "You knew?"
"I found out six months ago." Her voice was calm, but her fingers gripped the edge of the marble counter like an anchor. "A whisper in Damascus. A call intercepted in Prague. He was supposed to be dead, buried under that compound in Belarus."
He paced back to the window, dragging a hand through his hair. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because you'd do exactly what you're doing now. Burn everything down to get to him."
"Damn right I would."
Audrey stood with the moonlight streaming through the window, her shadow extending far down. "Lucien isn't just after me. We are the board in the game he is playing. For him, this is just another step, regardless of what is going on between us. I did not want him to see you fall into his trap.
Sebastian replied, his voice lower now, "You didn't trust me." "Not after everything we've experienced."
Slowly, deliberately, she approached him. "I didn't believe in myself."
Her speech was raw with reality, hurting and unpolished.
Like a door closing, a lengthy quiet descended between them.
Sebastian then questioned, "Did you ever love him?" in a gruff, low voice that was tinged with something more profound than rage.
Audrey froze.
A foghorn moaned through the night somewhere beyond the glass.
Unflinching, she looked him in the eye. Once upon a time, we had the same belief in the struggle. While I believed he was still deserving of being saved.
"That's not an answer."
"No," she said finally. "Not the way I love you."
His defenses cracked. Not visibly. But she saw it in the way his shoulders shifted, the breath he didn't release.
She moved closer, chest brushing his. "Lucien is what I was trained to be. You're what I ran to. Don't let his shadow rewrite what we have."
"What we have," Sebastian echoed, his fingers brushing a lock of her hair back. "Is a detonator wired to our history?"
She smiled—bittersweet, crooked. "Then we cut the wire together."
It was a quick, electric snap of strain. A storm of years released in one careless instant, his mouth smashed into hers with desperation rather than love. In the faint glimmer of the city lights, her fingers tore at his shirt and drew him in closer, skin to flesh. The kiss spiraled—fierce, wild, beautiful. She encircled him like a vow too risky to say out loud as he raised her and pressed her against the wall.
It wasn't love.
Instead of using bullets, it was a fight waged with breath and bone.
Sebastian placed his face against hers when they eventually parted, half-undressed, tangled, and gasping.
"He's getting worse," he whispered. "This is more than just you. Donovan Systems is where he works. My board has been compromised. Last week, two of my security heads vanished.
Audrey's eyes sharpened instantly. "Then we stop playing defense."
"You want in?" he asked, though he already knew the answer.
She gave a single nod. "I trained with him. I can anticipate him."
"No," Sebastian said, stepping back, his expression shuttering. "You're not bait."
Her voice dropped, quiet and cutting. "I'm not asking for permission."
A long silence.
Then—he smirked. That dark, infuriating smirk she both hated and secretly missed.
"God help me," he murmured. "I missed this version of you."
"I never left. You just weren't looking in the right shadows."
She crossed to the kitchen again, reopening the dossier, now with a clearer purpose.
"Start from the top," she said. "Who's been compromised?"
Sebastian approached and tapped two photos. "Jensen and Rivera. Both worked in logistics and cybersecurity, both disappeared en route to the Utah facility. No trace. No ransom."
"Lucien doesn't want ransom," Audrey said. "He wants leverage. Psychological, emotional. The longer they're silent, the more doubt he seeds."
Sebastian nodded grimly. "He's stoking paranoia from the inside."
"And what about your father?" she asked suddenly. "Where does Victor stand in all of this?"
Sebastian exhaled like she'd struck a nerve. "He knows more than he's letting on. Always has. But getting information out of him is like interrogating a stone wall."
She looked at him sharply. "He kept Project Heretic's assets off the books for years, didn't he?"
"I think he helped design it."
The revelation hung between them like smoke over fire.
Audrey's voice dropped. "Then Lucien's not just a ghost. He's family business."
Before Sebastian could answer, his secure phone buzzed on the table.
Encrypted call.
He picked it up, eyes narrowing. "Go."
A distorted voice came through—he recognized it instantly. One of his remaining ops, stationed in Nevada.
"We've got movement. Transmission intercepted. He's targeting Geneva next."
"Why?" Sebastian demanded. "What's there?"
A pause.
"Not what—who. Heretic just named a target. High-priority. CIA asset codenamed Swan."
Audrey's breath hitched.
Sebastian turned to her. "You know that name?"
She nodded, pale now. "Swan's not a person. It's a fallback protocol. A kill-switch."
"For what?"
She whispered: "For me."
—