Chapter 25

VICTORIA –

Darius’s message had been brief—Meet me in my office. Bring no one. Never a good sign.

When I push open the door, the familiar smell of cigar smoke and paper greets me. Darius sits behind his massive desk, calm as always, a hand wrapped around his coffee mug. Across from him—Jason.

He turns when he hears me. The bruises are mostly gone now, just a few faint traces at the corner of his jaw and a thin scar that disappears into his beard. “Jason,” I say, the word slipping out softer than I intend. A quiet wave of relief catches me off guard.

He smiles, that same lopsided grin that somehow survived every disaster. “Morning, Vic.”

I take the chair beside him. “It’s good to see you.”

“Good to be seen.”

Darius clears his throat, his raspy voice cutting neatly through the small reunion. “Alright. Now that I have the both of you here, let’s cut to the chase.” He leans forward, fingers steepled. “Jason has some important news.”

My attention snaps back to Jason. He sits straighter, one finger resting against his lips, his tell when he’s thinking too hard.

“I think I might know who the leak is,” he says. “I’m not completely certain yet, but the signs are there.”

The air in the room shifts. I lean in, elbows on my knees, pulse ticking faster. Darius says nothing, waiting.

Jason hesitates, the silence stretching thin. When he finally speaks, his voice is low. “How well do we trust Jennifer?”

For a moment I don’t process it. Then– “Jennifer?” My brows pull together. “Jason, Jennifer is like family. You know that. I trust her with my life.”

“And you’re positive she’s—”

“Just cut the bullshit and tell us what you know,” I snap.

Jason exhales, reaches inside his jacket, and produces a manila envelope. He drops it onto Darius’s desk with a soft thud. The sound is louder than it should be.

Darius studies it for a beat, then opens it and pulls out a handful of surveillance photos. He spreads them across the polished wood like a deck of bad cards. Jennifer. Standing in the shadow of an alley. Facing a man I don’t recognize.

Darius rubs his mouth, expression unreadable. Then he slides the photos toward me.

It feels like the floor tilts. The room narrows until all I can see is the glossy surface of those pictures. Jennifer’s profile, sharp in the streetlight. Her posture—casual, familiar. The man beside her—broad shoulders, dark coat, head turned just enough for Jason’s words to hit their mark.

“That’s impossible,” I whisper.

Jason’s voice is quiet but steady. “He’s one of the men who attacked me, Vic.”

I shake my head, throat tight. “No. This must be a mistake.”

“Victoria–” Darius starts.

“No, Darius.”

The word cuts the air clean. Both men fall silent.

I stare down at the photos again, my heartbeat a dull roar in my ears. Jennifer’s face stares back at me from the glossy paper, and for the first time in a very long time, I don’t know what to believe.

“Let’s say I believe you,” I manage after a long silence. My voice is flat, but there’s an edge under it, a trembling wire I can’t hide. “What does Jennifer want?”

Jason runs a hand through his hair, thinking. His eyes flick between me and Darius before settling on me. “They know what we are, Victoria,” he says quietly. “And they’re here to stop us from taking out powerful men. Jennifer’s probably just a link — from us to them. Sharing information. The when, the where, the who.”

The words sink in slow, like poison. I go quiet.

Jennifer. She used to be one of us. She was one of us – the woman who fought beside me, who looked me in the eye and said that what we did mattered. She’d seen what these men had done, what they were capable of. She’d stood beside me when no one else did.

So why the hell would she betray us now?

I stare at the photos again, at the angle of her body, the faint smile she wears in the frame. Maybe it’s coincidence. Maybe she’s being forced. Maybe she’s already dead and someone’s wearing her name.

But the doubt gnaws at me.

Jason’s voice breaks through my thoughts. “I suggest we lay low for a while. No more hits. Not until we know more.”

I nod, but I’m not really hearing him. My mind’s somewhere else – running through every memory, every conversation, every look Jennifer gave me that might have meant something more.

Jason stands, ready to leave. He hesitates by the door. “Oh, and Victoria?”

I look up.

“These men are relentless,” he says, tone low, almost a warning. “They’ll take everything you own and love just to prove a point.”

The words hit harder than I expect. Because I’ve heard them before – from Darius, weeks ago, when this whole thing started. Back then, I didn’t believe it. I thought I could control it. Thought I could stay ahead.

But now… Now I can’t ignore the truth sitting heavy in my chest.

I just nod once, slow and deliberate. “Understood.”

Jason gives me a small, apologetic smile, the kind that says I wish I didn’t have to be right, and leaves the office.

The door closes behind him, soft but final.

Darius doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t have to. The weight in the room says it all.

I sit there a long time, staring at the photos, until the edges blur and my reflection stares back at me from the glossy paper.

If Jason’s right, then it’s already started. And if it’s started, it won’t stop. Not until they’ve gutted everything in my orbit – my work, my life…

Avery.

I straighten, forcing my breath to steady, pushing every other thought aside.

The silence between us stretches, heavy and suffocating. The pictures still lie scattered across Darius’s desk like open wounds I can’t look away from.

My throat tightens. “Avery…” The name leaves me in a whisper, almost swallowed by the room. “Can’t we take her to a hideout? Just until everything settles?”

Darius looks at me for a long time, his expression unreadable. Then he exhales, the kind of sound that carries both weariness and regret. A pained smile tugs at the corners of his mouth.

“Victoria,” he says softly. “If Jennifer is involved, and they’re out to get you… she’ll know where to find Avery. She knows every hideout we’ve ever used. Every safehouse, every route.”

I feel the air leave my lungs. “Then we move her away from here,” I say, sharper now, desperate for a plan that doesn’t exist. “We’ll send her out of the country if we have to.”

“Vic.”

His tone is gentle, but final. He reaches across the desk, laying a warm, fatherly hand over mine. His touch anchors me, but it doesn’t calm the storm beneath my skin.

“I wish we could,” he continues, his eyes heavy with sincerity. “But I think she’ll be safer nearby – where you can watch over her. You know how these people work. Distance won’t protect her. You might.”

The words cut through me cleanly.

I pull my hand back, pressing it against my mouth for a moment as if I can physically hold in the dread rising through me.

He’s right. And that realization burns worse than anything else.

Because no matter what we do – no matter where I hide her, how many precautions I take – Avery won’t be safe. Not far. Not near. Not while she’s with me.

The thought hits like a blade sliding between my ribs, quiet but precise.

I look at Darius, but I barely see him anymore. My mind is already moving, calculating, planning.

I have to keep her safe. Even if that means keeping her close. Even if it means lying to her. Even if it means losing her.

***

AVERY –

I’ve been restless all morning. There isn’t a reason I can name, not really – just that strange heaviness that creeps in when something’s about to shift and you don’t know what.

Victoria left early, saying she had an emergency meeting with Darius. That was all she told me. She doesn’t usually share details about that side of her work – the other business. The one that lives in the spaces between her words.

I haven’t heard from her since.

The clock keeps ticking, each sound too loud in my quiet apartment. Music hums low from the speaker – something soft, a track that feels slower than usual. Juno jumps up onto my lap, landing like she owns the place, then gives me that look — the one that says stop being such a whiny mess and pull yourself together.

I smile despite myself. “Yeah, yeah,” I mumble, scratching behind her ears. “I’m fine. Just an off day.”

The steady rhythm of petting her helps. My body finally starts to unclench, my mind quieting with the rise and fall of her purrs.

Then – a soft knock at the door.

My whole body tenses. I don’t know why, but my stomach flips, the kind of instinct you can’t explain. I already know it’s her before I even move.

When I open the door, there she is.

Victoria.

Her eyes are soft, but there’s something behind them – a shadow, a worry she’s trying to bury. She’s dressed the same as this morning, her coat still damp from the mist outside.

“Are you okay?” I ask, my voice quiet but careful.

She doesn’t answer. Instead, she steps forward and wraps her arms around my waist, pulling me in like she needs to feel that I’m real. Her mouth finds mine in a kiss that’s sudden, desperate – deep enough to steal the air right out of my lungs.

For a second, I forget how to breathe.

Then she pulls back sharply, as if something inside her snapped. The look on her face makes my chest tighten.

“Victoria?” My voice comes out small. I already know – whatever she’s about to say, it isn’t something I’m going to want to hear.

She exhales slowly, eyes shuttering. And just like that, I see it – the shift.

The softness fades. The warmth drains away.

In front of me now isn’t the woman who held me through the night, who smiled when I made her laugh, who let me see the person beneath the armor.

It’s the other Victoria. The cold, composed one. The one made of steel and secrets. The one it took me months to reach.

She looks at me – and for the first time in a long time, I can’t read what’s behind her eyes.

***

VICTORIA –

Her voice feels distant, like it’s coming from underwater. I can’t focus on what she’s saying — only on how easy it would be for someone to break into this apartment. How easy it would be for them to take her. Use her. Hurt her just to watch me break.

And I would.

God help me, I’d burn the whole damn world down for her. Which is exactly why I have to walk away before it comes to that.

I let my eyes drink her in one last time—a final, desperate photograph. The gentle confusion in her expression. The unspoken questions waiting in her eyes. The quiet, radiant light she carries without even knowing it.

And then I kissed her.

Because I am weak. Because I am a selfish, greedy thing. Because I need the memory of her taste to survive what comes next.

And when I pull back, I force myself to breathe. To build the wall again.

She looks at me, confused, brows drawing together. “Victoria?”

My name on her lips almost ruins me. But I steel my spine, lock every piece of me back into place. I can’t afford to break here. Not in front of her.

“This can’t keep happening,” I say, my voice flat.

Her breath hitches. “What?” The sound is a tiny fracture in my resolve, but I press on. I have to.

“Us,” I clarify, the word cold and final. “Whatever this was… it’s over.” She blinks, slow and disbelieving. I see the moment my words land, the flicker of shock in her gaze.

“You’re a distraction,” I continue, already moving toward the door because my legs might give out. “And distractions get people killed in my world.”

She opens her mouth – to protest, to question, to plead –but I cut her off. I can’t let her speak. I can’t hear her voice break. “I should’ve walked away the night I met you.”

“Victoria–”

“I don’t do this.” My hand slashes through the air between us, dismissing everything we’ve built. “I don’t feel things. I don’t stay for breakfast. I don’t plan futures. I don’t build anything that lasts.”

My voice drops, lower now, almost a whisper. “I’ve only ever been good at two things – fucking, and leaving.

Her lips part, but no sound comes out. Her eyes are glistening—with hurt, with a dawning, furious betrayal.

Good. Let her be angry. Let her despise me. It’s a fire that will keep her alive.

“I already gave you more than I should have,” I say, the words soft and final. “Don’t expect anything else.”

Then I do what I’ve always done best.

I turn my back and walk away.

And with every step, something inside me splinters – a vital, fundamental cord snapping under the strain. The air feels thin. It hurts to breathe.

My hand finds the door handle. It’s cold under my palm. I hesitate. A single, unforgivable second.

But I don’t look back. If I see her face, I will never be able to leave. And her life is worth more than my happiness.