The room was dim, the early morning light of Nashville struggling to pierce through the heavy blackout curtains of the Hyatt. Vlad lay still, his heavy, muscular arm draped protectively across Beatrice's waist. The steady rhythm of her breathing was the only sound in the suite until the silent vibration of his internal clock kicked in. He reached over to the nightstand, checking his phone: 7:00 AM. They had four hours before the extraction plane departed at 11:00 AM.
Beatrice stirred beside him, blinking her dark eyes as she woke. Seeing him awake, she reached for the bedside tablet and scrolled through the menu with practiced ease. She didn't need to ask what he wanted; she already knew the machine needed specific fuel. She placed the order: buttermilk pancakes, boiled sliced eggs, crispy bacon, and a chilled cup of tropical fruit.
Once the order was confirmed, Vlad rolled onto his side, propping himself up on one elbow to look down at her. His gaze was intense, the curiosity he'd suppressed the night before finally surfacing.
"How did you know I was in Nashville and going to be here at the Hyatt?" he asked, his voice a low, gravelly rumble.
Beatrice offered him a small, knowing smile. "I overheard Emily a few days ago. She was recommending this place for your stay after the mission, and I saw Tom agreeing to the Nashville deployment on the digital logs."
Vlad let out a short, dry chuckle, shaking his head. "You nosey woman."
"Well," she countered playfully, tracing a finger over the scar on his shoulder, "at least you were able to blow some steam off last night."
A sharp knock at the door interrupted them. Beatrice slipped into a plush hotel robe and went to answer. The room service attendant wheeled in a silver tray, placing the spread on the table before quietly exiting. Beatrice brought the tray over to the bed for Vlad and then grabbed her own breakfast, settling back in beside him.
They ate together in a comfortable, heavy silence—a rare moment of peace for an operative. The pancakes and fruit provided the sugar and nutrients Vlad needed for the day ahead, while the eggs and bacon covered his protein requirements. When they finished, Beatrice set the tray aside and snuggled back up against his side, her head resting on his chest as they watched the morning sun finally begin to glow behind the curtains.
The morning air in downtown Nashville was crisp and carried the faint scent of rain as Vlad and Beatrice emerged from the Hyatt. Parked at the curb, the black Mustang Mach-E hummed quietly, its polished surface reflecting the early city light.
Vance was already leaning against the driver's side door, checking his blue iPhone one last time. He looked up as they approached, a knowing smirk playing on his lips as he took in the sight of Vlad and Beatrice. He didn't say a word, but the slight raise of his eyebrows spoke volumes. He tossed his phone into the center console and hopped into the seat, revving the silent electric motor as if to remind Vlad of the 11:00 AM deadline.
Vlad stopped at the passenger door, turning back to Beatrice. He didn't do long goodbyes; in their world, every departure was a potential finality. He gave her a sharp, singular nod—a silent promise—and climbed into the car.
As the Mustang began to pull away, the tires chirping softly on the asphalt, Beatrice stood on the sidewalk. Her dark wavy hair caught the breeze as she raised a hand, waving them goodbye with a bittersweet smile. Vlad watched her in the side mirror until the Mach-E rounded the corner toward the highway, leaving the luxury of the hotel behind.
"Back to the real world," Vance remarked, his eyes shifting to the rearview mirror to ensure they weren't being followed. "Hope you're ready, Vlad. Tom sounded like he's been drinking battery acid this morning. Whatever is on that drive, it's big."
Vlad sat back, his hand resting on the tactical pocket containing the silver flash drive. "Just drive, Vance. Let's get this off our hands."