DANTE POV
Octavia stares at me like I just told her the sky is falling.
"You're FBI," she repeats slowly. "You're actually FBI."
"Yes."
"And Konstantin wants you to kill... yourself?"
"Essentially." I show her the folder. Inside is my real FBI badge photo. Dante Marchesi, not Corsaro. My sister's case file. Everything.
She takes it with shaking hands, reads through the pages. I watch her face change—confusion, understanding, horror.
"Your sister was his girlfriend," she whispers. "She saw him kill someone and he... oh God."
"Staged her suicide. Made it look like depression." Five years later and the words still cut like glass. "The FBI recruited me after her funeral. Offered me a chance at revenge if I went deep undercover."
"Five years." Octavia looks up at me. "You've been pretending to be a criminal for five years?"
"Yes."
"And you kidnapped me because...?"
"Because your parents' debt gave me access to Konstantin's inner circle. You were supposed to be bait. A way to get close." I force myself to meet her eyes. "I wasn't supposed to keep you. Wasn't supposed to care what happened to you."
"But you did keep me."
"I did."
"Why?"
The question I've been asking myself for two days.
"Because—" I stop. Start again. "Because when I saw you fight back in that apartment, something in me recognized you. A survivor. Like my sister was before Konstantin broke her."
Tears slide down Octavia's cheeks. "So you saved me by kidnapping me? That doesn't make sense!"
"None of this makes sense!" I'm shouting now. Can't help it. "I had a plan. Five years of careful work. Get evidence, bring Konstantin down, avenge Isadora. It was simple."
"And then I ruined it."
"No. I ruined it." I pull her close, cup her face. "By keeping you instead of delivering you. By letting myself care. By forgetting you were supposed to be just a mission asset."
She searches my eyes. "What do we do now?"
"I don't know."
"Well, that's comforting." She pulls away, pacing. "So Konstantin knows you're FBI. He's given you seventy-two hours to kill yourself to prove loyalty. And if you don't, he kills my parents and me?"
"Yes."
"What if we run? Just disappear?"
"He has people everywhere. We wouldn't make it a day."
"What if you call your FBI people? Get them to arrest him?"
"Without solid evidence, he walks. His lawyers are too good, he has too many judges in his pocket." I slam my fist against the steering wheel. "I've spent five years trying to get that evidence. I was so close."
"How close?"
"He keeps blackmail files on everyone important. Politicians. Judges. Police chiefs. Those files would destroy his entire network." I lean back, exhausted. "They're in his estate somewhere. I just haven't found them yet."
Octavia goes very still. "Wait. His estate. Where we just were?"
"Yes. Why?"
"When Sienna hit me, and you grabbed her, and everything was crazy—" She turns to face me, eyes bright. "I saw something. A door behind Konstantin's desk. It had a security panel. The kind banks use for vaults."
My heart pounds. "You're sure?"
"Positive. I have photographic memory. It's why I'm good at school." She closes her eyes, thinking. "The panel was biometric. Fingerprint and retinal scan."
"Konstantin's fingerprints."
"Probably." She opens her eyes. "Could that be where he keeps the files?"
"It's possible. But getting access..." I trail off, mind racing.
Then I see it. The insane, impossible solution.
"No," Octavia says, reading my expression. "Whatever you're thinking, no."
"You could get in."
"How? I don't have his fingerprints or his eyeball!"
"But you could get close to him. Get him to take you there, show you around." The plan forms as I speak. "He's interested in you. Intrigued. If I offered to share you with him for one night—"
"Absolutely not!" Octavia scrambles backward. "Are you insane?"
"Listen to me—"
"No! You just told me you kept me to protect me from him, and now you want to hand me over anyway?"
"I'd be there the whole time. I wouldn't let him actually touch you." I grab her shoulders. "But if we can get those files, we can end this. Free your parents. Put Konstantin away forever."
"Or he could kill us both!"
"He's going to kill us anyway!" The words echo in the car. "In seventy-two hours, we're both dead unless we do something. This is our only chance."
Octavia is breathing hard, panicking. I don't blame her.
"There has to be another way," she whispers.
"There isn't. Believe me, I've thought of everything." I soften my voice. "I know what I'm asking. I know it's too much. But Octavia, you're the only one who can do this."
"Because I'm disposable? Because I'm just bait anyway?"
"Because you're brave." I tilt her chin up. "Because you memorized those files when you were terrified. Because you tried to run even knowing you'd probably die. Because you're a fighter."
"I'm scared."
"Good. Fear keeps you sharp." I pull her against me, hold her tight. "But I promise you—I swear on my sister's grave—I won't let him hurt you."
She's silent for a long time. Then: "If I do this, and we survive, you tell me everything. No more lies. No more secrets."
"Deal."
"And my parents go free. Really free."
"Yes."
"And you..." She pulls back, looks at me. "You stop treating me like property. Like something you own."
That one hurts. Because she's right.
"Okay."
"Okay?" She sounds surprised. "Just like that?"
"Just like that." I stroke her hair. "After this is over—if we survive—you're free. I'll help you disappear. New identity, new life. Whatever you want."
"What if I don't want to disappear?"
My heart stops. "What?"
"What if—" She cuts herself off. Shakes her head. "Never mind. Stupid."
"Tell me."
"It doesn't matter. We probably won't survive anyway."
I grab her face, make her look at me. "Tell me, Octavia."
"What if I want to stay with you?" The words come out in a rush. "I know that's crazy. Stockholm syndrome or whatever. But you're the first person in years who's actually tried to protect me. Even if your methods are insane."
Something in my chest cracks wide open.
"You don't want me," I tell her. "I'm a monster. I've done terrible things."
"So have I now. I signed that contract. I let you—" She blushes. "I'm not innocent anymore either."
"You're nothing like me."
"Maybe not. But maybe that's okay." She takes a shaky breath. "Can we just... survive the next seventy-two hours first? Then we'll figure out the rest."
"Yeah. Okay."
I start the car, pull back onto the road. My mind is already working on the plan. How to convince Konstantin to give me access. How to keep Octavia safe while getting those files.
We drive in silence until my phone rings.
Felix.
I answer on speaker. "Yeah?"
"We've got a problem." Felix sounds stressed. "Someone just tried to access your real FBI file. Multiple times. Sophisticated hack."
My blood runs cold. "When?"
"An hour ago. We traced it to—" Papers rustle. "—Konstantin Voss's IP address."
Octavia gasps. I grip the steering wheel tighter.
"He already knew," I say slowly. "The folder he gave me. He's been testing me. Seeing how I'd react."
"Which means?" Octavia asks.
Felix answers: "Which means he's been playing you this whole time. And whatever he's planning, it's happening soon."
"How soon?"
"Check your messages."
I pull over, open my texts. One from an unknown number:
Tomorrow night. 8 PM. Bring the girl. Come alone. We'll settle everything then. - K
Tomorrow. Not seventy-two hours. Tomorrow.
"He moved up the timeline," I say, voice hollow.
"Why?" Octavia demands. "What changed?"
My phone buzzes again. A photo this time.
It's Felix. Sitting at his desk at FBI headquarters.
The message underneath: I know where your handler works. Bring the girl tomorrow, or he dies. Then her parents. Then you. Choose wisely.
The phone slips from my hand.
Konstantin doesn't just know I'm FBI. He knows everything. Everyone I care about. Every weak point.
We're not hunters anymore.
We're prey.
And tomorrow night, we walk into his trap with our eyes wide open.
Or watch everyone we love die.