It was raining again. Not the light, poetic kind, but the hard, spiteful kind—the kind that soaked through skin and soul alike. Ava watched from the corner window of the high-rise apartment they had commandeered. Fiftieth floor. Nothing but city lights and storm clouds.
She should have felt safe. Above the chaos. Hidden. But safety was an illusion she'd stopped believing in long ago.
Behind her, Kai poured two glasses of whiskey, moving with a predator's grace. His suit jacket was gone, his black shirt rolled up to the elbows, muscles taut and alive. He looked like he belonged in a boardroom—or a back-alley execution.
Ava turned, arms crossed. "We can't just wait here while Lucien moves his pieces."
Kai handed her a glass. "We're not waiting. We're watching. There's a difference."
She took a sip. It burned all the way down.
"You don't trust me," she said quietly.
He leaned against the table, his eyes dark. "I trust you more than anyone. That's what scares me."
Lightning flashed. Thunder answered. And before either of them could speak again, the door opened.
Jax strode in—Kai's right hand. Blood on his collar. A crooked grin on his face.
"They found the mole," Jax announced. "It was Elena. She sold intel to Lucien. She's dead now."
Ava's heart sank. Elena had been a friend. Or at least something like it.
"She had a sister," Ava said softly. "She did this for her."
Kai didn't blink. "She should've come to us."
"She thought she'd die either way," Ava replied. "She wasn't wrong."
Jax nodded and slipped out, leaving the storm in their silence.
Kai stared at Ava. "You don't get to pity the dead."
"I don't. I pity the living who've lost their humanity."
His gaze dropped to her mouth. Then back to her eyes. "Do you think I've lost mine?"
Ava walked over, slow, deliberate. She stopped just before him, lifted her chin.
"No," she whispered. "But I think you've locked it away."
Then she kissed him. Not out of desperation—but domination. He responded instantly, lifting her onto the table, his hands claiming every inch of her.
She tugged at his shirt, ripped buttons flying. He slid her dress up, his mouth trailing fire down her neck. She gasped, nails carving into his back. When he entered her, the table shook beneath them, dishes crashing to the floor.
This wasn't love.
This was survival.
Later, they lay tangled in a tangle of limbs and luxury linen. The storm had quieted outside, but inside, the war raged on.
Kai traced circles on her hip. "We need a move. Something bold."
Ava stared at the ceiling. "Then we hit where it hurts."
He looked at her. "Lucien's clean. No vulnerabilities."
She smiled coldly. "No one is clean. We just haven't dug deep enough."
Three days later, they walked into a gala hosted by Lucien's shell corporation. Ava wore a black dress with a thigh-high slit and a scarlet smile. Kai, sharp in a midnight suit, didn't leave her side. They were weapons in disguise.
They mingled. They danced. They hunted.
At midnight, Ava slipped away into the archives room. She hacked into the security system and downloaded every secret she could find—financial records, internal memos, and—finally—a video feed of Lucien in a hidden room... with a man. Someone important. Someone married.
Blackmail material.
Kai met her outside. She handed him the flash drive. "He's not as invincible as he thinks."
He raised a brow. "Neither are we."
"Exactly why we need to strike first."
Back at their hideout, Ava climbed into his lap, arms around his neck.
"I want to watch the world burn," she said.
Kai leaned in, his breath warm against her lips. "Then let's start with Lucien's."
They kissed again—harder, deeper. The city burned beneath them.
Not in flames.
But in secrets now exposed.
And Ava had just begun to fan them.