Chapter 22

AVERY

I wake to the sound of soft, steady breathing. For a long moment, I don’t move. My face is half-buried in the pillow, morning light filtering through my eyelids, sheets tangled comfortably around my legs. There’s that familiar, hazy warmth that comes with waking up slowly, completely at ease.

When I finally lift my head, I can’t help the smile that spreads across my face.

Victoria is sleeping beside me. In my bed.

If I’ve counted right – and I have – this makes twelve nights in a row we’ve spent together since that intense evening in the private room at Lilith. Twelve nights since she completely unravelled me and decided to stay.

We mostly sleep at my place. She claims it’s so Juno isn’t alone too often. For someone who claims not to be a cat person, she’s surprisingly considerate. Not that I’m complaining. My apartment feels different with her in it – warmer, more lived-in. And judging by where Juno spends her nights now – curled tightly against Victoria’s back, purring like the little traitor she is – I’d say she has made her loyalties perfectly clear.

I could get used to this. Actually, if I’m being completely honest, I already have. It’s become one of the quiet highlights of my mornings: waking up before she does and just watching her sleep. Seeing her face completely relaxed, all her usual defences down. This is the only time she ever looks truly at peace.

Victoria stirs beside me, making a soft, sleepy sound before her arm slides around my waist and pulls me closer against her.

“Stop staring,” she murmurs, her eyes still closed.

I smile. This is practically our morning ritual. I lean in and press a kiss to her temple. “Good morning.”

She lifts her head just enough, her voice warm but still thick with sleep. “Good morning, darling.”

Her lips find mine in a kiss that’s soft and unhurried, the kind that makes morning seem like the best part of the day.

“Did you sleep well?” she asks, her hand stroking lazy circles on my back.

“I did. Though you hogged the covers again,” I tease, “and Juno didn’t stop purring while you were cuddling her in your sleep.”

Victoria hums softly, the corner of her mouth curving into that faint smile I’ve come to love. “I don’t cuddle her,” she protests, her voice still sleep-rough.

I raise an eyebrow. “You literally spooned her, Vic. I saw you.”

“That’s slander.”

“Pretty sure there’s video evidence,” I say, stretching out under the sheets and feeling every muscle protest leaving this warm cocoon.

She huffs a quiet laugh, the sound muffled by the pillow. God, I love that sound – it’s so unguarded, so different from her usual controlled demeanour.

But as much as I’d love to stay wrapped up in this moment, reality doesn’t care about how perfect she looks right now. The clock on my nightstand is ticking relentlessly toward the start of the workday.

I groan. “I have to get up.”

Victoria tightens her arm around me. “No, you don’t.”

“I really do.”

“You don’t,” she insists, her voice taking on that lazy, morning drawl that makes every word sound like a temptation.

I turn to face her fully. “You’re not exactly in a position to talk. Don’t you have your own empire to run?”

She sighs, the sound dramatic and still half-asleep. “The endless joys of ownership. Meetings, spreadsheets, paperwork that seems to multiply overnight. Absolutely riveting stuff.”

“So, the fun part of Lilith,” I say with a smirk.

Her eyes flutter open, looking amused and completely unbothered. “Exactly. You should come by later, make it less dreadful.”

“Tempting,” I admit, “but I’ll be lucky if I get through my own stack of reports before lunch.”

I finally force myself to peel away from her warmth, stealing the blanket as I go.

Victoria groans in protest. “You’re cruel.”

“You started it,” I call over my shoulder as I head for the kitchen.

Behind me, I hear the faint rustle of sheets, then her voice – sleepy but smiling. “Make coffee?”

“Already on it,” I reply, filling the pot with water.

“Good girl.”

Even after twelve mornings, the way she says those two words still sends a warm thrill through me. She knows exactly what gets to me.

The rich smell of coffee begins to fill the kitchen by the time Victoria finally makes her appearance. She’s already dressed for the day in one of her impeccable suits, but her hair’s still slightly messy from sleep, and her eyes have that soft, heavy look she only gets in the mornings as she pads across the floor barefoot.

“You actually made coffee,” she says, her voice low and rough with sleep.

I hand her a mug, trying not to smile too obviously at how domestic this all feels. “Don’t sound so surprised.”

She takes it, her fingers brushing against mine – that brief, familiar spark that always seems to pass between us, even in the most ordinary moments.

“Thank you,” she murmurs, and before I can say “you’re welcome,” she’s leaning down and kissing me.

This isn’t the lazy, half-asleep kiss from earlier. This one is deliberate and sure, like she’s claiming the morning itself. I tilt my chin up to meet her, the back of my neck tingling as her hand finds my jaw. She kisses me once, twice – long enough that I know our coffee will be cold by the time we remember it.

When she finally pulls back, her lips still hover close to mine. “Now it’s officially a good morning,” she whispers.

I smile against her mouth, my heart doing that familiar flip. “You know,” I start, still catching my breath, “you don’t have to stay here every night.”

Her eyebrows lift slightly as she straightens to her full height, looking down at me with that faint amusement she always carries. “Trying to get rid of me already?”

“No,” I say quickly, shaking my head. “God, no. I just mean… if you ever want a night at your own place, with your own bed, that’s okay. You don’t have to—”

“I don’t want to,” she cuts in, her tone soft but final.

For a moment, she just looks at me over the rim of her mug, her eyes calm but steady. “It’s easier to breathe here,” she says simply, as if that explains everything.

And somehow, it does.

The corner of my mouth lifts. “Well, in that case, I guess you’re stuck with me.”

Her lips curve into that slow smile I love. “Seems like I am.”

Juno chooses that moment to hop onto the counter, meowing loudly like she’s contributing to the conversation. Victoria chuckles – a real, genuine sound –setting her mug down to scratch behind Juno’s ears. Watching them like that, with morning sunlight cutting through the kitchen and illuminating them both, the moment feels almost too perfect to be real.

She glances at the clock. “You’re going to be late.”

“So are you,” I point out.

Victoria hums, completely unconcerned. “Perks of being the boss.”

At the door, she shrugs into her coat and heels, still holding her coffee. When I follow her there, she looks down at me with that slow, knowing smile that always undoes me just a little.

“See you tonight?” I ask, already knowing the answer.

Her hand finds my waist, her thumb brushing a lazy circle through my shirt. “You’ll see me tonight,” she says, and leans down to kiss me once more – slow, unhurried, just enough to make me forget about being late all over again.

And when she finally leaves, closing the door softly behind her, the apartment feels quieter, but not empty.

Just whole.

***

VICTORIA

The warmth from Avery’s apartment barely lingers by the time I step into Lilith. The club is quiet in the mornings – too quiet. The hum of the city hasn’t reached it yet, the air still holding onto last night’s perfume and smoke.

When I open my office door, I stop short.

Darius is sitting in the chair across from my desk.

“Darius,” I say, letting it stand in for good morning.

His soft, observant eyes meet mine. There’s a tension in his posture that feels out of place for this hour, yet a faint, almost curious smile plays on his lips.

“Sleep well?” he asks, his tone deceptively light.

I hold his stare for a moment. He’s never asked me about my sleeping habits before.

“You okay?” I ask, setting my bag down and hanging my coat on the rack.

“Just curious,” he says, and that smile doesn’t fade.

I don’t return it. Instead, I circle the desk and sit, crossing one leg over the other. “What brings you here so early?”

The smile slips away. His expression hardens – business again. He clears his throat, like he’s rehearsing how to deliver whatever he’s about to say.

“Well,” he starts, “I think we have a little problem.”

I tilt my head. “Problem?”

He nods once. “We might have a leak.”

My brow lifts. “A leak? How do you mean, a leak?”

“More like a mole, I’m thinking.”

I lean back in my chair, studying him closely. “Go on.”

He hesitates, fingers tapping against his knee. “Jason… he, um… they ambushed him last night –”

“Is he alright?” I interrupt, sharper than I intend.

Darius blinks, then nods quickly. “He’ll live. Someone found him and got him to a hospital. But it was close.” He leans forward, his voice dropping. “It was a setup, Victoria. They weren’t there for the target. They were there for him. They knew he was coming.”

I feel a cold knot tighten in my stomach. The hum of the ventilation system suddenly sounds like a warning.

“And you’re sure the intel was secure?” I ask, my voice dangerously calm.

“Only a handful of us knew the details,” he says, his eyes locked on mine. “Which means someone on the inside is talking.”

The room goes quiet. My mind, which had been blissfully quiet all morning, is now a storm of names and faces. Then, his eyes flick again to the now already faint bruise on my cheek.

“It wasn’t just Jason,” he says, his voice low and deliberate. “Think about it. Your hit on Warren Slate. That was supposed to be clean, too. Yet they were waiting for you as well. They knew you were coming.”

The memory crashes over me – the cold recognition in Slate’s eyes, the two men emerging from the shadows. They said you’d come.

It wasn’t a coincidence. It was a pattern.

Darius watches the realization dawn on my face. “This isn’t random. They’re not just leaking targets. They’re targeting us. Our people.” He holds my gaze, his next words heavy with unspoken warning.

“Just be careful, Victoria,” he says finally. “Until we figure out who’s behind this, take your precautions. Trust no one.”

I nod once, though my mind is already racing ahead –running through names, possibilities, connections that shouldn’t exist.

“They could hold anything against you. Anyone.” he adds, and something in his tone changes.

My gaze snaps back to him.

He hesitates, then finishes quietly, “Including the woman you’re so fond of. Avery?”

The air stills.

I don’t move. Don’t breathe. Just watch him.

Then, slowly, I lean forward, my voice a shade too calm. “What did you just say?”

He swallows, choosing his words with care. “I pay attention, Victoria. You’ve been different lately. Softer, distracted. It doesn’t take much to connect the dots.”

I glare at him, the kind of look that’s made stronger men shut up mid-sentence. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He lifts his hands slightly, palms up. “I’m not judging. I’m warning you.”

My jaw tightens. “Then consider your warning delivered.”

Darius studies me for another moment, like he’s debating whether to push further. He must see something in my face that makes him think twice.

He exhales and stands. “Just be careful,” he says again, quieter this time. “I’ll keep you updated.”

I nod once. He takes that as his cue to leave. The door shuts behind him with a dull click, and the office falls still.

For a few seconds, I just sit there – eyes fixed on the papers scattered across my desk, but seeing none of them. My pulse hasn’t slowed since he mentioned Jason. Or the mole. Or Avery.

The thought of her – soft, warm, still half asleep just an hour ago – tightens something in my chest I don’t want to name.

I pull my phone from my pocket. The screen lights up in the dim office glow. My fingers hover for a second before typing.

Victoria:You’re at work already? Victoria: Everything alright?

I set the phone down but keep glancing at it, my focus fractured. Each silent minute stretches too thin, and every buzz that isn’t her reply twists the knot in my chest a little tighter.

I stand, pacing the length of the office once, twice, before forcing myself back into the chair. By the time the knock comes, I’ve almost convinced myself to bury the unease under paperwork.

The door opens before I can answer. Jennifer steps inside, her tablet held close to her chest. She pauses just inside the threshold, her eyes scanning me – my posture, the set of my jaw, the way my fingers are steepled too tightly on the desk.

“Morning,” she says, her voice softer than usual. “You okay?”

I look up, smoothing my expression into something neutral. “I’m fine.”

She doesn’t look convinced. Her gaze lingers on mine, probing. “You don’t look fine.”

I release a slow breath and lean back, the leather of the chair groaning softly. “Jason’s in the hospital.”

Jennifer goes still. Her knuckles whiten around the tablet. “What happened?” she asks

“He was ambushed last night,” I say, watching her closely. “Someone was waiting for him.”

Jennifer frowns. “Is he going to make it?”

“He’ll live,” I answer. My voice stays calm, but the words taste like ash.

She studies me for a moment, searching for more than I’m giving her. “Do we know who did it?”

“Not yet,” I say, already glancing toward the phone again. “But I’ll find out.”

Jennifer nods, the motion smooth but a fraction too deliberate. She takes a half-step back toward the door, a seamless retreat, but her usual fluidity is missing, replaced by a subtle rigidity in her posture.

“Let me know if you need anything,” she says, her tone polished but hollow.

I watch her, my gaze catching the minute tension in her jaw. “Do you need something, Jennifer?”

She meets my eyes, her expression a flawless mask of calm. Only someone who has worked with her for years would notice the slight delay in her response, a heartbeat of calculation. “The VIP guest list for the Vanguard party tonight,” she says, her voice regaining its professional warmth. “Shall I keep it at twenty-five, or would you prefer to extend it to thirty?”

It’s a routine question. One she could have easily handled without stepping into my office. One she has handled without my input for years.

“Keep it at twenty-five,” I say, my tone even. “No exceptions.”

“Naturally.” She offers a practiced, close-lipped smile and turns, her exit as quiet and efficient as ever.

The door clicks shut, and the silence descends again, now thick with unspoken tension.

I pick up my phone, my thumb resting on the dark screen. Still nothing.

And for the first time in a long time, I find myself willing Avery to reply—not for my own reassurance, but because the thought of anyone else knowing her name, watching her, using her… it makes my blood run cold.

***

AVERY –

My desk looks like it lost a fight with a hurricane –reports stacked sideways, two empty coffee cups, and one pen that refuses to write unless I threaten it first. I’ve been staring at the same line on the same page for at least five minutes when my phone buzzes.

Victoria:

You’re at work already?Victoria:

Everything alright?

I blink, confused for a second. She rarely texts during the day – not unless she needs something specific.

I type back:

Barely surviving my inbox. Why?

It takes a moment before she replies.

Victoria:

Just checking in.

I frown a little, thumb hovering over the screen. That’s not her. Victoria doesn’t just check in. She’s the type who calls when she needs something and shows up when she doesn’t.

I glance at the time – it’s barely past nine. Something about the way she wrote it feels… off. Too careful. Too short.

You okay? I text.

The three dots appear, disappear, then nothing.

My chest tightens a little. I tell myself not to overthink it, but that’s a losing game when it comes to her.

I take another sip of cold coffee and stare at the screen again, waiting. Nothing.

Juno’s probably curled up on the couch by now, snoring in her little spot, completely unaware that I’m sitting here trying not to spiral over a two-word text.

When my phone finally buzzes again, I grab it too fast.

Victoria:

I’m fine. Busy morning. We’ll talk later, darling.

I exhale through my nose, force a small smile to no one in particular, and text back:

Alright. Don’t work too hard, boss lady.

I set the phone face down, but my mind’s already gone – back to her office, to the way she always sits perfectly straight, the faint sound of her rings tapping against glass when she’s thinking too much.

Something’s wrong. I can feel it.

***

My mind has been stuck in a loop ever since this morning. Ever since Victoria texted me.

It’s past five, and I’m still here, stuck at the office, finishing the last of the paperwork for my slimy boss, Mr. Landers – who’s still behind his desk, eyeing me, thinking I don’t notice. I do. I always do.

He’s been watching me for the past fifteen minutes –pretending to work, pretending to read, pretending I can’t feel his stare through the glass walls of his office.

Finally, he stands, straightens his tie, and walks out toward my desk. He leans against it like it belongs to him. “Did you finish those important files?”

I don’t look at him. I make a few last clicks, press print, and sigh. “Done.”

The office hums around us, fluorescent lights buzzing overhead like dying insects. I’m the last one left, as usual. The printer whirs to life beside me, the sound sharp in the silence.

He doesn’t leave. Of course he doesn’t. He lingers there, and I can feel his gaze crawl up my neck. “You know,” he says, his tone oily, “you could be so much more than just my office pet.”

My stomach tightens.

He steps closer. The smell hits me — cheap aftershave, stale coffee, and something darker underneath. His fingers reach out for a loose strand of my hair, sliding it between his thumb and forefinger like a test. “You’re much more than just a pretty face. You know that, right?”

I freeze, but I don’t answer.

What the fuck… the nerves this asshole has – to speak to me like this, to touch me without my consent.

I stand up, clearing my throat, and walk over to the printer, taking the freshly printed documents he asked for into my hands. The printer keeps spitting out paper like a clock ticking too loud.

I clutch the finished folder against my chest like it can protect me. I take the papers out of the tray, organizing them as I hear a shuffle behind me. Before I can turn around, he presses his whole body against my back, both hands caging me against the printer table – his lips close to my ear.

“Are you willing to do anything for a promotion, Avery?” he murmurs, leaning in until I can feel his breath against my skin. The edge of the printer digs into the front of my thighs.

My throat burns. “What the fuck,” I manage, trying to shove him off. He doesn’t budge.

“Are you one of those little sluts who’d fuck her way to the top if that’s what it takes?” he says, voice low and pleased with itself. One hand grips my waist, fingers sliding lower.

“Please,” I whisper. “I need to go.”

He laughs – a sound that makes my skin crawl. “Oh, come on, Avery. You look like you could use some release.”

I turn around, my breath sharp, eyes wide – and I see it, that look on his face, the intent behind it. I know exactly what’s coming.

And then—

“I believed she said no.”

The voice slices through the air, firm and low.

Thomas goes rigid and takes a few steps back. I twist my head toward the doorway – and there she is.

Victoria stands in the frame, her presence filling the whole damn room. Her eyes are cold, her posture calm, but I can feel the danger radiating off her. She walks forward, slow and deliberate, her heels clicking against the polished floor. Each step makes Thomas shrink a little more.

He takes a step back, hands up in mock surrender “relax. I was just joking around.”

When she’s beside my desk, only inches from him, her voice cuts through the air. “Is this your way of joking, Mr. Landers?”

His jaw tightens, eyes darting between us. “Who the fuck are you?”

Before I can even blink, she reaches for the letter opener on my desk.

“Victoria, don’t!” I almost scream out.

But she’s already pressing the opener to his throat. The metal catches the light — thin, sharp, steady.

“I’m your worst fucking nightmare if you lay your hands on her again,” she says, her tone calm but dangerous, “Do you understand, Mr. Landers?”

Thomas’s face drains of color. His mouth opens, but all that comes out is a shallow gasp. “Ye-yes,” he stammers.

Victoria doesn’t move. She just holds his stare, blade hovering near his pulse, until she’s sure he believes her. Then she lowers the opener and places it back on my desk with surgical precision.

“Now get out,” she says.

He doesn’t need to be told twice. He stumbles backward, tripping over his own feet, and bolts for the exit. The sound of the door slamming shut echoes through the empty office.

Silence.

The fluorescent lights hum again. The printer stops. My legs nearly give out.

Victoria turns to me and crosses the room in a few long strides. Her voice softens. “Avery.” She studies my face. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

I shake my head, though I can barely speak. “No. I’m—” My voice breaks. “I’m fine.”

She exhales, and for a second, the mask of control slips. She pulls me into her arms before I can think, holding me tight, her chest rising fast against mine. I sink into her, the scent sandalwood and rain grounding me in a way nothing else could.

Her voice trembles, just enough for me to hear it. “Let’s get out of here.”