The car ride was silent—tension thick as fog, humming just beneath the surface. Lucien drove with his usual calm efficiency, but Zara could feel the urgency in the way his hands tightened around the steering wheel every time they hit a red light.
Zara didn't speak the entire drive.
The city lights streaked past like ghosts, her fingers curled tightly around the envelope Lucien had handed her. Caleb Myles. The name bled into her thoughts, each letter soaked in betrayal. Her father had trusted him. So had she. The realization carved new lines into her already weathered resolve.
Lucien sat beside her in the backseat of the sleek black car, silent. Watching.
"Where would he go?" she muttered, breaking the tension. "If he knew Ethan was hunting him—where would Caleb run?"
Lucien tapped a finger against his thigh. "If he's half as smart as I remember, he'd go dark. Fake IDs. Offshore contacts. But even ghosts have patterns."
Zara looked over at him, heat in her eyes. "You seem to know a lot about how ghosts operate."
His lips twitched into a smirk. "I've had my own reasons to disappear."
They pulled up to a nondescript building in Midtown—unmarked, forgettable, but heavily secured. As they stepped into the elevator, Zara shot him a look.
"This isn't your penthouse."
"No," Lucien said. "But it's where we keep… sensitive archives. Places the board doesn't know exist."
The elevator opened to a sleek, dimly lit room filled with digital terminals and rows of locked drawers. A private war room.
Lucien motioned her toward a monitor. "This is where we track movement—credit slips, travel logs, facial recognition hits. My analysts picked up something three days ago in Zurich. The signature matched Caleb's old alias."
Zara's heart kicked. "Zurich?"
Lucien nodded. "And if Ethan's already on the trail, we're running out of time."
Zara stared at the map on the screen, then turned to him. "You're helping me. But why?"
He held her gaze. "Because I hate Ethan Blackwell. Because I believe your father was set up. But mostly…"
He stepped closer, voice low.
"Because you walk like a woman who's been broken and reforged. And I don't like watching people with fire in their eyes be kept in cages."
Zara inhaled sharply, her guard flickering.
"You don't even know me," she whispered.
Lucien reached up and gently tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, his touch slow, deliberate.
"I know what revenge tastes like. I've lived it. And I know what it costs."
The room seemed to shrink, the charged air pressing in around them. His hand didn't drop—it lingered.
Zara's breath caught in her throat.
She should've pulled back. Should've reminded herself this was business, not temptation. But his proximity burned through her resistance.
"You're dangerous," she said quietly.
Lucien's mouth curved. "So are you."
Their eyes locked, and before she could process the moment fully, his lips were on hers—firm, claiming, yet slow enough to let her choose. It wasn't a demand. It was an invitation.
Zara froze for a heartbeat.
Then she kissed him back.
Hard.
Fire ignited between them—years of pain, control, and buried desire crashing into a single kiss. His hand slid to her lower back, pulling her flush against him. Hers gripped his collar, the envelope slipping to the floor, forgotten.
But the moment shattered as a sharp ping echoed from the terminal.
Lucien broke the kiss, eyes still dark.
Onscreen, a new alert blinked.
Caleb Myles: Facial match—confirmed.
Location: Prague. Two hours ago.
Zara stepped back, chest heaving. Her lips were still tingling.
Lucien didn't move, but his expression shifted—hardening again.
"You still want the trail?" he asked hoarsely.
Zara bent, snatched the envelope, and met his gaze. Her voice was steel.
"Book the jet."
Cliffhanger: Passion ignited—but so did the race against time. Caleb's trail is hot, and Ethan might be closing in. And someone else is still watching them from the shadows…