The list lay between them on Serena's kitchen counter, lit by the low amber glow of a single pendant lamp.
Damien stood with his hands braced on the marble edge, scanning the names as if sheer force of will could make them disappear. His hair was slightly damp from the mist outside, and there was a tension in his shoulders that hadn't been there when they'd left the bridge.
"I've seen three of these people in the past week," he said finally. "Two are from my security team."
"And one of those," Serena added, "is your head of security."
Damien looked up, eyes like cut glass. "If this is accurate, it means someone's been running operations against me using my own resources."
"And possibly mine," Serena said. "Half the other names are Langford affiliates. A few are former employees. One's my cousin."
---
The Possibility of a Double Agent
They were both silent for a long moment. Serena poured herself a glass of water, more for the distraction than the thirst.
"We could confront them," she said at last.
"And watch them vanish into whatever hole they crawled out of," Damien replied. "No. If they've been embedded this long, it's because they believe no one suspects them."
Serena tilted her head. "You're suggesting we let them keep thinking that."
"I'm suggesting we turn them," Damien said, his voice low. "Make them our channel back into whoever's pulling the strings."
Her brow arched. "And you think your head of security will just… flip?"
"Not without pressure," Damien admitted. "But everyone has a lever. We just have to find his."
---
The Risk
Serena took a slow sip of water, thinking. "If we turn him and he's not as loyal to us as we hope, we give him direct access to our counter-moves. We'd be feeding him the exact intel he's supposed to be stealing."
Damien's mouth curved slightly—not a smile, but something like it. "That's why you don't give him the real moves. You give him selective truths. Enough to keep him valuable to his current employer, but laced with threads we can trace back."
"A false trail."
"Exactly."
Serena considered it. It was dangerous. It was manipulative. And it was exactly the sort of thing she'd expect from Damien Blackwood.
But she couldn't deny—it might work.
---
Deciding Who Leads the Play
"If we do this," she said slowly, "it has to be my way."
Damien's brow lifted. "Your way involves cornering people in hotel ballrooms until they cry."
"My way involves getting people to talk because they want to, not because I've threatened them," Serena corrected. "If you go in heavy-handed, he'll shut down, or worse—panic and run."
Damien studied her for a beat, then nodded once. "You get the first conversation. But if he doesn't give us anything…"
"Then we use your way," she finished.
---
Setting the Trap
They agreed on the setup quickly. Serena would invite Daniel Cross—Damien's head of security—to a private meeting under the guise of a shared concern: unusual activity around both companies.
Damien would be nearby, monitoring the conversation from a secondary location, ready to step in if Cross reacted badly.
Serena insisted on hosting the meeting at a neutral space—an upscale private lounge in the 8th arrondissement she used for high-stakes client discussions. It was luxurious enough to disarm without feeling like enemy territory.
---
Midnight Preparations
It was well past three when Damien finally left Serena's apartment. She watched from the window as he crossed the quiet street to where his car waited, a black sedan melting into the shadows.
Once he was gone, she returned to the list on the counter. Her cousin's name seemed to glare up at her, each letter heavier than the last.
She'd deal with that later. Right now, the priority was Cross.
She pulled her laptop closer and began building a profile—recent financial transactions, changes in behavior, shifts in his travel schedule. If Cross was playing both sides, there would be signs.
By four-thirty, she had something. Three unexplained wire transfers, all routed through the same offshore account in the Caymans. The amounts weren't enormous—not enough to flag automatically—but they were regular. Controlled.
Like a retainer fee.
---
Elsewhere in the City
In a dimly lit apartment across town, Daniel Cross sat at his kitchen table with his own stack of documents. His phone buzzed once—an encrypted message appearing for only three seconds before vanishing.
Bridge meeting went as expected. Package delivered. Langford took bait.
He exhaled slowly, folding the paper in front of him. His employer had made one thing clear: Damien Blackwood's world was going to collapse, and anyone too close to him would go down as well.
But Cross also knew something his employer didn't—Langford wasn't just "close" to Blackwood. She was the only one who could keep him alive.
---
Back to Serena
By the time dawn light spilled through her curtains, Serena had a plan. She'd meet Cross that evening. No threats, no accusations—just questions designed to make him reveal more than he intended.
Damien's voice from earlier echoed in her head: Everyone has a lever.
She just had to find his before Damien decided to use the blunt force approach.