The morning after felt like the quiet before an earthquake.
Zariah stood at Dorian's window, watching the city stir to life. People hurried along sidewalks, umbrella bobbing like dark petals in the rain. She should've felt safe in this moment, wrapped in his warmth but all she could feel was the weight of the flash drive burning into a hole in her purse.
Dorian appeared behind her, his arms slipping around her waist. His lips brushed the curve of her neck. "You're thinking too loud again," he teased, though his voice was tight. He was trying to protect her. Always trying.
"I have to know what's on it." Zariah whispered.
"I know." His grip tightened slightly. "But not here. Not on my network. Whoever's watching, they will see it."
Zariah turned to his face, studying the worry behind his dark eyes. "You believe me now. About the photo. The messages. About Nova."
"I never didn't believe you," Dorian said quietly. "I just wanted to believe you weren't in this deep."
A long silence stretched between them, filled only by the steady drip of rain against the glass.
By midday, they were moving again, Dorian's plan unfolding in hushed words and careful glances. He took her to a place few people knew he had: a small loft tucked above a bookstore in a quieter part of the city. No cameras. No records. No ties to his name.
The room smelled of old paper and dust. The only light came from a single lamp near an ancient desk.
"This is where we start," Dorian said.
Zariah exhaled slowly, pulling the flashdrive from her bag. Her hands shook as she slotted it into a beat-up laptop Dorian had insisted was clean.
Files blinked of life, folders named with strings of numbers, offshore accounts, names she didn't recognize and one she did.
Her mother's.
Zariah's heart pounded. "She was onto something real."
Dorian scrolled through the documents, his expression hardening. "She was digging into a shell company. Massive funds moving through it. Someone was using it to launder money - millions, maybe billions. And however they are, they didn't want her getting close."
He stopped at a file.
Her mother's last report.
A noth at the bottom caught his eyes. "Zariah, look at this."
She leaned closer.
Voss?
That single name, types in a rush. A question and a warning.
Zariah's blood ran cold.
"Dorian --"
"I didn't know." His voice broke a little. "I swear I didn't know any of this."
But she stepped back, needing space , needing air.
If her mother had suspected Dorian, what did that mean from them now? For the night they'd just shared?
The storm wasn't over. It was only just beginning.