Melody's POV
The city looked different when you decided to confront it instead of run from it. From the passenger seat of Marvis's car, I watched buildings blur past the window, their lights flickering like watchful eyes. Dawn hadn't fully broken yet. The sky hovered in that uneasy gray-blue, the hour where secrets felt bold enough to move.
Neither of us spoke.
Not because there was nothing to say but because everything that mattered was already hanging between us.
Marvis drove with one hand on the wheel, the other resting loosely on my thigh. Calm. Controlled. But I knew him well enough now to see the tension beneath it, the way his jaw tightened at every red light, the way his eyes scanned reflections in mirrors instead of just the road ahead.
"You're quiet," he finally said.
"So are you."
A corner of his mouth lifted faintly. "Fair."
I adjusted the strap of my bag on my lap, feeling the reassuring weight of its contents. Tools. Evidence. Choices I could never take back.
"I keep thinking," I said slowly, "that once this is over… everything will finally make sense."
Marvis glanced at me. "And what if it doesn't?"
I swallowed. "Then at least the questions stop haunting me."
The car slowed as we approached the outskirts of the city, where warehouses replaced cafés and streetlights grew sparse. This part of town smelled like rust and rain and old decisions. We pulled into a quiet underground garage beneath one of Marvis's secondary properties. The engine cut off. Silence rushed in.
He didn't move right away.
Neither did I.
"This is the last chance to walk away," he said, not looking at me. "Say the word, Melody, and I'll shut this down. We disappear. Start fresh. Somewhere quiet."
I turned toward him. Really looked at him.
The man who ruled empires. The man who'd learned to survive betrayal before he learned to trust. The man offering me an exit even when every instinct in him wanted to burn the world for me.
"If I walk away now," I said softly, "I'll never forgive myself. And eventually… I'd resent you for letting me."
He nodded once, slowly. "I figured."
We stepped out of the car.
Inside the building, the air was cooler, sterile. Concrete walls. Low lighting. A temporary safe house clean, minimal, untouched by memories. A place meant for preparation, not comfort.
Marvis moved with purpose, unlocking cabinets, checking security feeds on a mounted screen. I set my bag down on the table, unpacking carefully.
Gun. Recorder. Knife. Earpiece.
Each item landed with quiet finality.
Marvis watched my hands.
"You're steady," he said.
"I don't feel steady."
"That's okay," he replied. "Fear keeps you alive. Hesitation gets you killed."
I met his eyes. "And what does love do?"
He paused.
Then, quietly, "It makes you reckless. That's why I'm here."
I smiled despite myself.
We went over the plan again. Every entry point. Every signal. Every contingency. He didn't interrupt. Didn't correct me. Only asked questions when it mattered.
Trust.
When we finished, the room fell silent again.
I sat on the edge of the table, suddenly exhausted. The adrenaline that had carried me all morning finally cracked, letting something softer seep through.
"What if I hear his voice," I whispered, "and I freeze?"
Marvis stepped closer, slowly gave me space even as he closed the distance.
"Then you breathe," he said. "And you remember why you started."
"And if the truth is worse than I imagined?"
His hand lifted, hesitated, then rested gently over mine.
"Then we survive it together."
I looked up at him.
"I don't want this to change us."
"It will," he said honestly. "But not all change is loss."
I exhaled shakily.
He brushed his thumb across my knuckles, grounding. Real. Warm.
"You don't have to be strong with me," he added. "Not here."
For a moment, I leaned into that. Just a moment. Let myself feel the weight of his presence, the quiet promise in it.
Then I straightened.
"Okay."
He smiled soft, proud, a little broken.
"Okay," he echoed.
An hour later, we were ready.
I slipped on my jacket, fingers brushing the hidden recorder at my collar. The earpiece clicked into place.
Marvis handed me a small comm device. "One tap for yes. Two for abort."
I pocketed it. "I won't abort."
"I know," he said. "But take it anyway."
At the door, I hesitated.
Not out of fear but awareness.
This was the line. The before and after.
I turned back to him. "If something goes wrong-"
"I'll find you," he said immediately. "No matter what."
I nodded. Then I left.
As the door closed behind me, I felt it—the shift inside my chest. The girl who'd been chasing answers stepped aside. And the woman who would demand them stepped forward.
Tonight, I wouldn't just confront the past. I would corner it.
And it would finally have nowhere left to hide.