Jesse's fists clenched at his sides as he watched from the shadows. The kiss—he had expected a confrontation, not *that*. The knife of betrayal cut deeper than he'd imagined.
Back at his car, the silence was deafening. He stared at the photo on his dashboard—him and Alina, smiling, before everything went dark. Before Damian came back.
He grabbed his phone. No message. No apology. Just time passing, cold and bitter.
***
Inside the warehouse, Alina pulled away first. Her lips tingled, her thoughts tangled. Damian opened his mouth to speak, but she raised a hand.
"I need time," she whispered. "And answers. Real ones."
"You'll get them," Damian promised. "Starting now."
He walked to a rusted cabinet in the corner, pulling out a small, locked box. "Proof. Of everything. What they did. What they're planning."
He handed it to her.
Alina's hands shook as she took it. "What's inside?"
"Names. Places. Targets." He looked at her, eyes dark. "Including yours."
Her blood ran cold.
Outside, tires screeched. Jesse's car.
She turned toward the noise—toward a decision she hadn't wanted to make.
Two men. Two stories.
And now, no more time to avoid the truth.