The scream didn't come from Helena.
Nor from Julian.
It came from the cliff.
A warning shout, followed by a blast that shook the ground beneath their feet.
"Watch out!" Helena yelled, pushing Julian just as the shockwave threw them to the ground.
The sky turned smoky.
One of the houses in the complex was burning.
Fire.
Shattered glass.
Alarms blaring.
And then, chaos.
The armed men ran in different directions. Gunshots rang out. Radio orders barked. Shouts in a language Julian didn't understand. Someone shouted, "We're under attack! Retreat!"
But it wasn't an attack.
It was a message.
Helena knew it.
"What did you do?" Julian yelled, grabbing her arm as he shielded her behind a fallen wall.
"It wasn't me."
"Lies!" he spat. "You said you were playing!"
"Yes. But this wasn't my move."
They looked at each other with a mixture of fear and longing. Dirty, scratched, breathing hard. The fire lit their faces like a movie scene. Everything around them was burning, but amidst it all, they were still together.
"We have to get out of here!" Helena said, pulling him toward a secret stairway behind the house.
"Where are we going?"
"To where the truth begins."
⸻
Already on the beach, a boat waited hidden among the rocks. Helena started it with expert hands.
"When did you plan this?"
"Before I even met you," she answered, but her eyes told a different story.
The engine roared as they pulled away while the mansion burned in the distance—a symbol of everything collapsing between them.
"What was that house, Helena?" Julian asked, eyes never leaving the fire.
She hesitated.
Then said:
"The base where your father laundered money with foreign diplomats."
Silence.
"And I… I was going to turn him in. Before I fell in love with you."
Julian closed his eyes.
The world was on fire.
And the fire had just reached his heart.