LAUREN/ZARA
The stink hit me first—sweat, smoke, stale liquor, and the iron tang of blood.
The hideout wasn't much more than a gutted warehouse, shadows stacked in the corners like predators. The flickering bulb overhead gave everything a sickly, yellow pallor, as if the walls themselves had rotted.
Two men near the entrance straightened the second I stepped through. Tattoos climbed their necks like vines, their eyes narrowing beneath the brim of their caps. One flicked his cigarette to the floor, grinding it out with the heel of his boot.
"Who the hell are you?" the taller one demanded, shifting his weight forward like a dog about to lunge. His hand hovered near his belt, where the outline of a gun sat plain as day.
My pulse skipped, but I forced my stride steady. No flinching. No hesitation. Lauren didn't hesitate.
"Courier," I said, voice flat, chin tilted just enough to imply authority I didn't have. I held up the burner phone like it was credentials, the screen still dark. "Your boss wanted this delivered."
A lie, but the kind that worked if your mask never cracked.
The shorter one barked a laugh. "Since when does the boss use couriers?" He leaned closer, squinting under the flickering light. "What's under the mask, sweetheart?"
Every instinct screamed to reach for the pistol at my hip, to end the conversation before it began. But guns would bring noise, and noise would bring Nick. I couldn't afford that yet,not until I saw Liam with my own eyes.
So I stepped forward instead, closing the space between us. "Since when do gate dogs question orders?" I asked quietly.
The taller one stiffened. A flush crept up the side of his neck. For a breath, the air between us shifted—like he wasn't sure if I outranked him or if I was just crazy enough to bite.
He stepped back, muttering under his breath. "Fine. Inside. Don't say I didn't warn you."
I moved past them, each step a razor's edge. The sound of voices bled through the walls,men laughing, dice clattering, the scrape of chairs across concrete. But underneath it all, I could hear it.
A groan.
Pained. Weak.
Liam.
My chest constricted, but my face didn't move. The mask hid everything,the trembling, the way Zara wanted to scream, to run, to throw herself at that sound. Lauren kept walking, spine straight, eyes sharp, every step dragging me deeper into the belly of the beast.
And all the while, one thought looped in my head like a curse:
Nick was here.
My brother.
Alive.
And if I wasn't careful, both men I loved and hated most in this world would die tonight.
The deeper I walked, the thicker the air grew,smoke curling into my lungs, voices cutting off as men noticed me passing. The whole room was a den of wolves, and I was the lamb in black leather, pretending not to shake.
I caught eyes watching me from a corner,sharp, predatory. A card game stalled mid-hand. Bottles clinked against the table. I could almost hear the unspoken questions in their heads: Who is she? Why is she here?
I kept walking, my mask of indifference fixed in place. Each step carried me closer to the groans muffled by steel and shadows.
Then it happened.
The shorter guard from the door called out behind me, his voice dripping with suspicion. "Wait a second… I know that face."
My spine went rigid.
"Yeah," the taller one added, a grin cutting across his face. "She's not a courier. She's the brat who works for Hunter's old man."
The room shifted in an instant. Chairs screeched back. Dice clattered to the floor. Boots scraped concrete as half a dozen men rose, circling me like I'd stepped into a trap.
One of them spat on the floor. "Liam's watchdog. Daddy's little soldier." His sneer widened, cruel. "Bet the kid's rotting in the back right now because of her."
I didn't answer. My fingers brushed the pistol at my hip, testing the weight, the promise of violence humming through my bones.
The first punch came fast—too fast to dodge cleanly. My head snapped to the side, pain blooming across my jaw. The taste of blood coated my tongue.
The men laughed.
"Not so tough without the suit and guards, huh?" one of them jeered.
I straightened, spit red onto the ground, and let the mask slip just enough for Zara to burn through.
"Wrong," I hissed.
Then I moved.
The gun cleared my holster in a flash. I didn't fire,not yet,but I cracked the butt of it across the nearest man's temple. He crumpled with a grunt, the others surging forward.
Fists. Knives. Boots.
The room erupted into chaos.
One lunged with a blade,I caught his wrist, twisted until bone popped, and drove my knee into his gut. Another grabbed me from behind; I slammed my head back, breaking his nose, his scream drowned by the roar of the others.
Blood slicked my knuckles, my breath ragged, but I kept swinging.
Because every blow brought me closer to that locked room.
Closer to Liam's broken voice.
Closer to Nick.
And I wasn't leaving without answers.
My chest burned, my knuckles raw, but I refused to stop. One by one, they went down—groaning, clutching broken bones or bleeding cuts.
But then, in the middle of the frenzy, pain exploded along my side.
The cold bite of steel tore through my ribs.
I gasped, the air ripped from my lungs as a blade slid out, warm blood spilling beneath my palm. The man who stabbed me sneered, twisting the knife before I slammed my gun point-blank into his skull. He dropped instantly, dead weight on the concrete.
My vision wavered, black dots flickering at the edge, but I forced myself upright. Not now. Not yet.
The hall ahead beckoned, every step a war between strength and collapse. I shoved the door open and staggered inside.
There he was.
Liam.
His head hung forward, his face swollen and purpled with bruises, dried blood crusting the corner of his mouth. His wrists and ankles were bound so tight the ropes cut into his skin.
"Liam," I whispered, voice cracking. My knees buckled beside him as I reached trembling fingers to the knot.
His head lifted slowly, dazed eyes widening in disbelief. "Lauren…?" His voice was gravel, but underneath it, the same boy who once smiled at me flickered alive.
I tugged harder at the rope, wincing as blood oozed between my fingers, staining the fibers. "I've got you. Just…..just hold on..."
Click.
The metallic snap echoed like thunder.
I froze.
A gun barrel pressed cold and heavy against my forehead.
My blood ran colder than the weapon against my skin. Slowly, I raised my eyes,only to meet the unyielding stare of the last person I ever thought I'd face this way.
Nick.
His grip was steady, his jaw clenched, eyes filled with fire and something darker, rage.
"Well, well," he muttered, voice laced with venom. "Who is this brave lady?."
For a heartbeat, I forgot how to breathe.
The muzzle pressed into my skin should have terrified me, but all I could do was stare.
Nick.
Older. Broader. His boyish features carved into sharp edges, his once-wild hair cropped close, his eyes,God, his eyes,still the same stormy shade of brown I remembered. Except colder. Harder. A stranger's gaze wearing my brother's face.
It had been years since I'd seen him. Years since the night everything shattered. I had carried his memory like a ghost sometimes a comfort, most times a wound. And now, here he was, flesh and blood, standing over me with a gun like I was the enemy.
The corners of his mouth twitched, not in warmth but in rage barely restrained. I knew that look,it used to flash whenever he saw Liam, he had that look when he beat Liam up years ago, when he refused to let anyone lay a finger on his little sister.
But now…now it was pointed at me.
My rib screamed, blood seeping through my clothes, but I couldn't tear my gaze from him. Every scar I spotted on his knuckles, every line that didn't exist before, every ounce of darkness clinging to him,I wanted to reach out, to shake him, to tell him I'm here, I'm alive.
Instead, my lips parted soundlessly. The words stuck in my throat, strangled by the weight of years, of silence, of death I was never supposed to return from.
Nick's voice cut through the haze, sharp and low.
"Say something. Whoever you are." His finger flexed against the trigger. "Because I'll blow your brains out where you kneel."
The brother I loved was gone. Or maybe buried too deep.
And yet, I couldn't stop staring. Couldn't stop memorizing him all over again, even if these might be my last seconds alive.