Laura back to home, rushed straight to Tomas, still in her jacket and scarf, her fingers numb from the wind. The kitchen was dim except for the pale glow of Tomas' laptop screen reflecting on his face. The room smelled of cooling coffee and concentrated tension.
"Hi! How did it go? Did you find out anything?" she asked breathlessly.
Tomas looked up, and his lips curved into a soft, brief smile—one of those rare smiles that transformed the whole apartment.
"Yes," he said quietly. "I have a plan for how to get inside."
Laura's eyes widened, bright with both excitement and fear.
"Tell me! I want to go with you."
Tomas leaned back, his voice calm and precise.
"You can only enter with an ID badge or a temporary cleaner's pass. I got an employee's badge—he won't be working tomorrow or the day after. The tricky part is the security. Guards and staff might notice I don't belong there. But if we go during shift change ataround 20:00, that gives us the best chance. I already have the building layout. The archive is on the 10th floor. Your uncle's office is on the 15th."
Laura stared at him in amazement. "How did you do all that in one day? Are you secretly a spy?"
"Of course," Tomas said with a grin. "Agent 008. You may address me accordingly."
She snorted. "Okay, 008. Want dinner?"
"No," he said—then corrected himself. "Actually… let's just order something."
"I'll change into something comfy and order us food."
Tomas nodded and turned back to the laptop. The warm smile vanished, replaced by a cold, calculating focus as his fingers flew across the keyboard. Only the quiet clicking and the ticking clock filled the room.
Laura returned a few minutes later in soft loungewear, hair mussed, smile warm.
"We're having teriyaki chicken noodles. That alright?"
Tomas's stomach growled audibly.
"That's perfect," he said, laughing.
Laura slid her arms around him from behind and rested her head on his shoulder.
"What are you looking at? Need help?"
"I'm thinking," Tomas murmured. "Since NovaCure belongs to your uncle, if he checks the footage, he might recognize you. We need to avoid that."
"Don't worry," she said softly. "I've been running from him for years. I know how not to be recognized. I can wear a cap, loose men's clothes… on cameras they won't even know if I'm male or female. And if we get a cleaner's uniform—no questions asked."
Tomas smirked. "Good. You could be an agent too."
"Oh, please. I'd be a better agent than you."
He raised an eyebrow. "Is that so?"
He lunged. Laura squealed and darted away. They chased each other from room to room, laughter echoing off the walls until Tomas caught her in the kitchen, lifted her effortlessly, and carried her to the couch.
He laid her down gently. Their faces hovered close; their breathing quickened.
She grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him down into a kiss—deep and hungry.
"I love you," Laura whispered against his lips.
Tomas kissed her back, fierce and tender. "I love you too."
The moment broke only when the doorbell rang sharply.
"That must be the food," Laura giggled.
"I'll get it," Tomas said.
---
23:47 — NovaCure Headquarters, 15th Floor
Laura's uncle, Valentinas, sat alone in his office. Only the desk lamp was on, its dim circle of light carving hard shadows across his face—sharp cheekbones, cold grey eyes, silver strands at his temples. On the table sat a half-finished glass of brandy and a thin folder labeled MIVORA.
He stared at the monitor.
Five injured men in a hospital bed. One with a fractured arm. One with a concussion.
Gas station footage replayed in slow motion.
And there he was: Tomas. Calm. Efficient. Lethal with absolute precision.
"Who are you…" Valentinas whispered, his grip tightening on the brandy glass until it cracked.
His phone buzzed—a message from one of the men in the footage:
"She's with him. Apartment somewhere near the gas station. Address unknown. The guy—not ordinary."
Valentinas smiled—a cold, dead smile.
"Laura… you really thought you got away?"
He dialed.
"Find everything about the boy who was with her. Name, past—everything."
He hung up.
Turned off the lights.
Darkness swallowed the office.
---
Back at the Apartment
Tomas returned with the food, and the apartment filled with the warm, rich smell of soy sauce and noodles. They ate on the couch, laughing and stealing glances at each other. Forks scraped softly against the cardboard containers.
"Are you working tomorrow?" Tomas asked.
"No. I took the day off. Actually… I think I'll take a couple weeks. I've never taken a vacation, and I want to focus on NovaCure." She hesitated. "And… spend more time with you."
Tomas smiled. "Good. Tomorrow's going to be tough. We should sleep."
Laura glanced toward her bedroom, then at him pointedly.
"And where exactly are you planning to sleep?"
He pointed at the couch.
Laura crossed her arms. "Then I'll sleep on the couch too."
He blinked. "Or… maybe I could sleep with you? In your bed?"
She ran to him and hugged him tightly. "Of course you can."
Tomas lifted her effortlessly and carried her to her room. The mattress creaked softly as he laid her down and climbed in beside her.
They curled under the blanket and fell asleep in each other's arms, warm and secure.
---
Morning
They woke slowly, sunlight turning the room warm and golden.
"Should we get up?" Tomas murmured.
"In a minute…" Laura whispered into his neck.
He kissed her hair lightly. "Stay. I'll make breakfast."
After a shower, Tomas cooked scrambled eggs. The smell filled the kitchen. Laura wandered in, hair messy, eyes soft.
They ate quietly, smiling in sleepy bliss.
"I found the cleaning company that works for NovaCure," Tomas said. "We might get you a uniform."
"Perfect," she replied, instantly alert. "Let's go."
They left the apartment and rented a small, inconspicuous hatchback.
The cleaning company was a cramped building that smelled like chlorine and detergent. Inside, shelves overflowed with supplies and uniforms. A radio played an old Lithuanian pop song in the corner.
They slipped in unnoticed and found Laura a grey cleaner's uniform with the company logo.
In the car, Tomas said: "Good. Now I need something simple—a plain, cheap suit."
"I know a store," Laura said.
They bought a basic suit—boring enough to blend in with NovaCure staff.
The rest of the afternoon they went over the plan again and again. Every hallway. Every camera. Every contingency.
By sunset they were ready. They changed into their disguises.
By 20:00, the shift change had begun.
Tomas squeezed Laura's hand gently.
"It's time."
They walked to the gate with steady, controlled steps. Tomas scanned the stolen badge.
A soft beep. The gate slid open.
He took her hand again.
"We go to the 5th floor by elevator. Then take the stairs to the 10th—less traffic there."
They climbed the cold concrete stairwell, their footsteps echoing softly.
Halfway up—the sound of boots descending.
A guard.
Without speaking, they slipped into a laboratory on the 7th floor, closing the door behind them. The room was dim, filled with the hum of refrigerators and the sharp smell of chemicals.
Laura scanned the papers on a nearby desk.
One word appeared over and over: MIVORA.
"Tomas… have you heard of this?" she whispered.
He skimmed a document, his face darkening.
"It's a fast-acting painkiller. Extremely addictive. Practically a narcotic." He looked at her. "If this gets released to hospitals—it'll be catastrophic."
He photographed the documents quickly.
"That's criminal," Laura breathed.
"Yes. And someone plans to make billions."
They moved silently to the 10th-floor archives. Inside, the air smelled of dust and old secrets. Shelves of folders stretched in every direction.
"Look for files from around ten years ago, when your mother was treated here," Tomas said.
They searched in tense silence until Tomas suddenly froze.
"I found something," he whispered.
Drug testing reports. Early trials on human subjects.
And then— A company founding file.
Inside were the names of his parents.
His breath stopped.
Before he could speak, Laura heard footsteps outside—the metallic click of a door.
"Tomas… we have to go."
He nodded, grabbed several folders, and they headed for the stairs.
But a guard stepped out, flashlight blinding them.
"What are you doing here?!"
Tomas answered without hesitation: "I left my phone at work. Came back for it. Ran into this cleaner—she asked where the restroom is."
"Badges," the guard demanded, stepping forward.
"Of course."
As he approached, Tomas struck with perfect precision—a silent, surgical blow.
The guard collapsed.
Laura stared, shaken—but there was no time to panic. Tomas grabbed her hand.
"We have to move."
They hurried to the underground parking level and slipped out into the night.
---
Back Home
They dropped the folders onto the kitchen table and sat down, breathless and exhausted yet more determined than ever.
They were no longer running.
They were fighting back.