Sloane’s call came at thirty minutes to midnight, much earlier than I expected but I didn't answer it immediately. He informed me that the convoy was waiting outside, a string of blacked-out SUVs idling in the dark like beasts waiting for a command. They were ready for the hunt, but I felt strangely unmoored. “It’s best we get going, boss,” he said, “you will need all your rest for tomorrow once we land.”I stood in the hallway, my boots silent on the runner, as I stared at the closed door of Helen’s bedroom. The wood felt like a barrier between two worlds—the world of calculated survival I inhabited, and the fleeting, impossible warmth I had glimpsed in the dark of the study. Every instinct in my bone screamed at me to knock, to break the door down if I had to, and pull her into a warm embrace that would definitely soothe my cold heart. I wanted to tell her that the "old Carter" wasn't dying—he was just changing, shifting into something more dangerous, something more mine and some

The headlights of the approaching SUV cut through the darkness, blinding me for a split second before they swerved to a halt on the gravel. Sloane didn't wait for the vehicle to fully stop; he jumped out while the tires were still spinning, his face pale, slick with cold sweat.He rushed toward me, his boots crunching erratically as he scanned the empty road with wide, alert, his hand hovering near his holster like a reflex."Carter!" he barked, his voice tight with the kind of terror that only comes when the foundation of your world starts to crack. "I got your text, but by the time I breached the building, the real convoy was sitting in the parking lot, untouched. The comms—they were looped. They mimicked my voice, the bastards. Every command, every redirect—it was a digital ghost."I didn't answer immediately. I stood on that godforsaken stretch of road, feeling the cool night air seep into my skin, grounding me. I was still vibrating from my encounter with Constance…the lingering,

JULIAN'S POV“Fucking hell.”The shack was a rotting carcass of water-logged timber and rusted corrugated iron, perched precariously on the edge of a Kingston lake that smelled of stagnant sludge and decay. It was utterly repulsive to my nostrils, but I could only endure.I sat beneath the shade of a gnarled orange tree, the bitter, acrid smoke of the cheap cigarette I was smoking curling into the humid, heavy air. I couldn’t remember how long I had been staring at this stupid lake—probably long enough to get my disheveled life back intact.I heard footsteps sinking into the sand behind me, it was hesitant, and had a weird, uncoordinated waltz to it that I instantly disliked. My hand instinctively dropped to the pistol tucked into my waistband, the cold metal a comfort against my skin, but before my fingers could curl around the grip, her scent hit me: cheap floral perfume, stale sweat, and the distinct odor of desperation.My shoulders slumped with disappointment and I sighed.It was

I hated the staleness of the air that suddenly gripped the room like a looming cloud. Maybe it was just the annoyance that came with the realization that I’d have no privacy in Memphis.I turned away from the view of the Memphis skyline and slowly looked down at my desk. The mahogany surface was clean, undisturbed, carried everything I needed and should have come to Memphis with except one thing. I frowned for a moment, then my eyes flickered with panic when it dawned on my shoulders.My briefcase was gone!My heart clenched and I looked around for it while Sloane silently wondered what the hell was going on. He walked towards my desk, also searching for what he didn’t know was lost. When I finally concluded that the briefcase wasn’t in the room with us, I let out a loud sigh.Sloane caught my eyes suddenly, his gaze traveling from the empty desk to my face. His expression shifted from relaxed vigilance to a look of burning curiosity. “What are we looking for?” He finally asked.I st

I stood in the center of the ring, the canvas rough beneath my bare feet. Across from me, Helen was calm and fully in control of the moment, which made me quite uneasy to be honest.The harsh gym lights glinted off her skin, and the tight, charcoal-grey sparring gear she wore did nothing to hide the elegance of her frame. I looked toward the ropes, where Sloane stood with his arms crossed over his chest, his expression maddeningly smug."I won't do it," I said, my voice cutting through the low hum of the ventilation. "I don’t fight women, Sloane. Especially not her."Sloane arched a dark brow, his gaze flicking between us. "You’re not fighting her, Carter. You’re learning from her. There’s a distinction, even if your pride is too thick to see it."I frowned, the tension in the room tightening like a garrote wire around my throat. I stepped closer to the ropes, my eyes locking onto his. "Tell me, why can’t you teach me? You’ve been my shadow, and my shield. Why step back now?"Sloane