Selene held the thumb drive like it was a live grenade. Her fingers tightened around it, heat rushing up her neck in waves of confusion, suspicion, dread. The note still fluttered in her other hand, as damning as the surveillance photo. "Watch this. Then decide if you still want him."
She looked up.
Darius hadn't moved. His breath rose and fell in a slow, careful rhythm, but his stormy, dark eyes were fixed on the note like it had reopened an old wound. He looked… afraid.
"Darius," she said, voice low, "what the fuck is on this?"
He didn't answer.
The silence between them stretched thin, too thin. It was a silence packed with history, secrets, the kind of things that exploded when pressed too hard. She didn't wait. She turned and stalked toward the den, slid the drive into her laptop, and opened the only file on it—untitled.
The video loaded instantly.
Grainy footage flickered to life. Surveillance again. But not from her penthouse. This was darker. Seedier. Somewhere industrial. A warehouse maybe. The timestamp read six months ago.
And there he was.
Darius.
She blinked, leaned in.
He stood in the middle of the frame, surrounded by crates stamped with foreign logos. Guns. Cash. Men in masks moving boxes. Her breath hitched.
Then another figure stepped into frame.
Lazarus.
Cold flooded her spine.
Her brain screamed for her to shut the laptop, but her hand refused. She watched as Darius approached Lazarus, speaking but there was no audio, just expressions. Serious. Tense. Then Darius pulled out a sleek black flash drive… and handed it to him.
Her stomach twisted.
"What the fuck is this?" she whispered.
Darius stood behind her now, unmoving.
She spun around. "You were giving him intel. Intel from my operation?"
He opened his mouth. Closed it. Then stepped closer. "That was before I broke from him."
"That flash drive—what was on it?"
His silence told her everything she needed to know.
Selene's voice turned ice cold. "Was it shipment routes? Drop schedules? Codes? Was it me you handed over?"
"I didn't know you then," he said, his voice tensed. "I hadn't even met you yet."
"Bullshit!" She shoved past him. "You were already working at Velvet Vice. You were already watching me."
"I was watching out for you."
She laughed bitterly. "Is that what spies do now? Protect the people they're betraying?"
Darius reached for her arm, but she pulled away. "Don't," she warned. "Don't touch me right now."
"I left Lazarus for you," he growled. "You think that was easy? You think there weren't consequences?"
"I don't care what it cost you," she snapped. "I care what it cost me."
She stormed into the bedroom, grabbing her coat and stuffing the note and drive into the inside pocket. She needed space. Distance. Oxygen. She needed to think without Darius's scent clouding her judgment.
But he followed her.
"You're walking out?" he demanded. "After everything we've been through?"
She spun on him, teeth bared. "You don't get to pull the loyalty card now."
"I risked my life to keep Lazarus off your back!"
"And yet he keeps showing up," she hissed. "So either you're bad at your job… or you never really quit."
That hit him like a slap. He flinched, but she didn't relent.
"This changes everything, Darius."
"You feel it too," he said quietly. "Even now. You know what's between us is real."
Her chest ached, because he was right. That heat between them, the bond forged in blood, sex, and secrets—it wasn't fake. But it didn't mean she could trust him.
"Real or not," she said, eyes burning, "it's poisoned."
She turned and walked out, banging the penthouse door shut behind her.
The streets were wet with steady rain, the kind that dimmed the city lights and soaked through coats. Selene didn't care. She drove through the synthetic light of downtown until she reached her safehouse—a Lowkey residence three blocks from Velvet Vice, shielded by surveillance and security she'd installed herself.
Inside, she stripped off her coat and poured a double shot of whiskey. Her hand trembled as she lifted it to her lips.
She still tasted him.
Still felt him between her legs.
Still hated herself for craving more.
Selene paced the room like a caged animal. The drive still sat in her pocket, but the image wouldn't leave her—the way he looked at the note. The flash of guilt. Of fear. Darius wasn't just hiding things. He was haunted by them.
Her burner phone buzzed.
It's an unknown number.
She hesitated, then answered.
The voice was disguised again—mechanical, soulless.
"You've seen the video."
She didn't respond.
"You want to survive this, Selene? Then walk away from him now. Because if you don't…" the voice cracked, distorted, "you'll both burn."
The line went dead.
Selene stood frozen.
Who the hell was this?
Her pulse thundered. She paced again, gripping her temples. Someone was planning all of this—photos, videos, packages, phone calls. Someone wanted her to doubt him. To fear him. Or worse even turn on him.
But what if it wasn't just manipulation?
What if it was a warning?
Her phone buzzed again.
Another number.
This time, it was one she recognized.
Laz.
Her fingers hovered over the screen, then answered. "What do you want?"
Lazarus's smooth voice slithered through the speaker. "Tense night, I hear."
"Did you send the video?"
"No, sweetheart. But I'm flattered you think I have the reach."
"Cut the games."
He laughed. "I told you Darius wasn't clean. But you didn't want to hear it. Had to find out the hard way."
Her voice cracked. "What are you planning?"
"Oh, I already planned it," he purred. "You're just catching up. But don't worry. I'll be in touch… soon."
Then he hung up.
Selene stared at the phone, her fingers were so tight that her knuckles got white.
And then the window shattered.
Glass rained across the living room.
She dropped without thinking, diving behind the couch as bullets tore through the air. Her gun was already in her hand. She crawled toward the end table, smashed the emergency button beneath it.
The house went dark.
Backup would come. But not fast enough.
Footsteps approached, multiple—stormed through the shattered window. Shadows spilled into the room.
Selene rose, firing at the nearest intruder. He dropped with a thud. She didn't stop. She moved like lightning, a storm of steel and fury, dropping two more before diving behind cover again.
Who the hell were they?
Mercs?
Lazarus's men?
Or someone else entirely?
She peeked over the couch—and a taser hit her shoulder.
The pain was electric. Her muscles seized. She collapsed with a cry, twitching, breath ripped from her lungs.
Boots approached.
A man crouched beside her, face covered by a ski mask. He leaned in, and whispered, "Should've listened."
Then everything went black.
She woke to cold steel biting into her wrists.
A chair. Metal. In a warehouse.
Blood dripped down by the side of her head.
Her vision cleared—and across from her stood Darius.
Chained. Shirtless. Bleeding.
"Selene," he rasped.
She tried to move. Her limbs were heavy. Her voice cracked. "What… where are we?"
And then Lazarus stepped into the light.
"Welcome to the endgame," he smiled. "Now let's see who you really choose."