San Francisco – Donovan Penthouse, 3:14 a.m.
As if the night still held onto secrets it would not give up, the city lay quiet and tense, its streets shimmering from the rain.
Audrey forced herself to stand up, the sheet sticking to her skin, which was saturated with more than simply perspiration. It wasn't heat that made her breathe shallowly. That was over. Even worse was the ensuing silence, which should have contained hushed confessions but instead provided nothing but nothingness.
The man next to her shifted, his arm fluttering before settling on his chest, as though protecting something invisible.
Sebastian.
He appeared to be sleeping peacefully. Nearly human. But she was wiser. She had been able to discern the icy, exact mind underneath the peaceful charm and deceptive calm. A predator wearing a flawless disguise.
Her eyes strayed to the window, to the broken light of the skyline outside. In her mind, San Francisco still blazed—not with fire, but with ghosts. With things left out. With the ghosts of those who had passed away and the decisions they were unable to forget but never discussed.
Silently, Audrey moved like fog as she slipped from the bed.
Like sentinels, the enormous windows greeted her and threw back shards of her reflection: bare skin, untamed hair, and wounded lips. It didn't feel real, though. The soldier, no. Not the Project Heretic survivor. Not the lady who had vowed to never experience emotion again.
She touched the glass and spoke aloud, voice quiet.
"Was this ever just about orders?"
A rustle behind her. She didn't flinch.
"You never do sleep long," Sebastian's voice came, roughened by sleep and truth.
She didn't look back. "Neither do you."
There was a pause. A breath. A decision he hadn't yet made.
"You regret this?" he asked, each word slow. Controlled. Lethal in its restraint.
She turned her head halfway, giving him only her profile. "Do you?"
He didn't answer immediately.
His bare feet padded against the cold hardwood, stopping behind her. She felt his presence before his heat reached her. Felt the invisible pull they never acknowledged in daylight.
"I don't regret the truth," he murmured. "Even if it burns."
She finally turned to him then. His eyes were darker in the dim, unreadable—but not empty. Never empty. Not when he looked at her.
"And what truth is that?"
"That I never stopped wanting you."
A beat passed. Then another.
"And I never trusted you," she replied, without blinking.
That struck him deeper than any bullet. She saw it, the flicker in his jaw, the stillness in his breath.
"Then why did you come back?" he asked quietly.
Her reply was slower, softer.
"Because I don't trust anyone more."
Later that morning – Donovan Security HQ, Private Briefing Room
The walls of the room were matte black, the glass table slick and sterile, and the man across from them spoke with the kind of caution that came from knowing he was interrupting something far more dangerous than any operation.
"Interception at 0400 confirmed. The drop point was compromised. Package never arrived," the analyst reported, tapping a live-satellite image onto the screen. "No signs of forced entry. No digital trace. Clean sweep."
Audrey leaned forward, narrowing her eyes at the map. "Too clean."
Sebastian stood with arms crossed, tension evident in every line of his body. "Almost like they knew we were coming."
Audrey glanced at him. "Or someone told them."
A silence spread across the table like oil on water.
The analyst cleared his throat nervously. "There's… more."
He tapped again. A zoomed-in image of the compound's northwest tower came into focus.
Charred remains. Symbols scorched into the steel.
Heretic's mark.
Audrey's blood turned to ice.
Sebastian's voice dropped a full octave. "He's making it personal."
Audrey stepped back from the screen, her throat tightening. She didn't speak.
Not yet.
Flashback – Marseille, Eight Years Ago
It was raining that night too. Lucien had pulled her under the broken arch of an abandoned railway bridge, his fingers cold against her wrist.
"You don't owe them anything, Audrey," he had said, his voice frantic, urgent.
"They trained us. Saved us."
"They owned us. You just don't see the difference yet."
She remembered how his hand lingered on her face, not possessive—just aching with something he didn't know how to name.
He leaned close. Whispered something in French.
"Je te protègerai, même de toi-même."
I will protect you, even from yourself.
She never told Sebastian about that moment. Never told anyone.
But Lucien hadn't disappeared. He had become something else.
Something not entirely Lucien anymore.
Present – Donovan HQ
Sebastian was watching her. Always watching. But this time, it wasn't suspicion. It was something harder to place.
"You knew he'd resurface," he said, low. "Didn't you?"
Audrey didn't deny it.
She only said, "He's not after intelligence. He's after something else."
Sebastian raised an eyebrow. "You?"
She didn't blink. "Maybe."
Sebastian exhaled slowly. "Then we'll burn him out of every shadow he thinks he owns."
Audrey turned toward the window again, arms folded tightly. "And if I don't want you protecting me?"
He stepped closer, his voice brushing the edge of warning. "Then tell me you still don't feel it. Tell me you'd walk away right now. That you're not dying to touch me again, even while you question everything I've ever done."
She didn't answer.
Not with words.
But the silence between them buzzed—electrified, like a fuse nearing its end.
Later – back at the Donovan Penthouse
A file lay open on the table. Redacted. Torn. Scarred with age.
Inside: a photo. Black-and-white. Surveillance.
Audrey and Lucien. In the Utah compound. Smiling.
Sebastian stared at it.
Then at her.
"You loved him."
Audrey's breath caught. "It was war. You hold onto what you can."
"But you never looked at me that way," Sebastian said quietly.
Her voice cracked.
"That's because I never needed to survive you."
He didn't answer.
Because he knew.
Unknown Location
The man in the shadows adjusted his gloves. The monitor flickered as he stared at their images. Audrey's voice from the briefing room echoed through the feed.
His fingers traced the screen as if remembering the curve of her jaw.
Lucien's whisper was barely audible.
"Even now, mon cœur… you look for safety in fire."
"And you think it will love you back."
He smiled.
And somewhere outside, a red mark was painted across another target.