Episode 20
Zane's POV
The moment Phil's footsteps faded, I let my hand tighten around the edge of the desk until my knuckles turned white. Jake. Of all the people the organization could've used, they had to send him.
The bastard always did have a talent for getting under my skin.
He wasn't just my stepbrother. He was the only person who'd ever been close enough to see my weaknesses — and twist them.
Now he had a target with my name written all over it.
I lit a cigarette I didn't need, just for something to focus on other than the image of Jake's smug grin. The smoke curled around me, blurring the dim light, but it didn't blur the thought that had been gnawing at me all night:
If Jake got to Tracy first, she wouldn't die… at least not right away. But the organization didn't keep people alive for mercy. They kept them alive to break them.
And I'd be damned before I let that happen.
Phil reappeared in the doorway, wiping blood off his hands. "He gave us a location. Might be a trap."
"Everything's a trap," I said, stubbing the cigarette out. "Prep the cars. We move at dawn."
Phil nodded, but hesitated. "Sir… Jake's expecting you to come for her. He wants it."
I gave a humorless smile. "Then let's not disappoint him."
---
Tracy's POV
I didn't sleep.
Not because of the gunshots still echoing faintly in my head from earlier, or the way my ankle throbbed despite Zane's bandaging. No.
It was because I could still feel his touch.
God, I hated that. Hated that I could sit there, curled under a blanket in the guest room of a man I barely knew, and remember the exact warmth of his hand on mine.
And what was worse… I didn't want to forget.
I kept replaying Phil's words, too. "Jake's the one who put the order out."
Who was Jake to Zane? And why did saying his name make Zane look like he was ready to kill someone?
I eventually gave up on sleep and limped out into the hallway. The house — no, mansion — was bigger than I'd realized earlier. High ceilings, wide corridors, expensive paintings that looked like they belonged in a museum.
So Zane wasn't just dangerous. He was rich. Filthy rich.
And yet he kept living like a man who expected someone to kick down his door at any second.
I found him in what looked like an office — dimly lit, jacket off, sleeves rolled, one arm still bandaged. The desk in front of him was littered with maps, photographs, and a sleek black gun he didn't bother to hide when I stepped in.
"Shouldn't you be asleep?" he asked without looking up.
"Shouldn't you be resting?" I countered.
His lips twitched like he almost smiled. "Touché."
I walked closer, my eyes catching on one of the photos — a man with sharp features, dark hair, and a smirk that screamed trouble.
"Is that Jake?"
Zane's hand came down over the picture before I could grab it. "Don't."
"Why not?"
"Because once you know, you can't unknow."
I folded my arms. "I'm already in this, Zane. You can't keep me in the dark forever."
His gaze lifted to mine, and for a second, the room felt smaller.
"I'm not keeping you in the dark to protect me," he said quietly. "I'm doing it to protect you."
I should've been angry. Instead, I found myself stepping closer — too close — until I could see the faint scrape on his cheekbone and the dried streak of blood just below his jaw.
"You're bleeding there too," I murmured.
"It's nothing," he said again, but there was less certainty in it this time.
I reached up without thinking and brushed my thumb lightly against his skin. His breath hitched — barely — but it was enough to send a shiver through me.
"Stop fussing over me, Trace," he said, his voice lower now.
"Make me," I whispered before I could stop myself.
I probably should have dignity by now
His eyes darkened, and for one dangerous heartbeat, I thought he might close the space between us.
And again..we where interupted
his phone buzzed sharply, shattering the moment.
He stepped back, pulling it from his pocket. I caught only a flash of the message before he turned away — coordinates, and the words HE'S WAITING.
Jake.
"Pack a bag," Zane said without looking at me. "We leave in ten."
"What? Where—"
"Don't argue."
There was no point. His voice was iron now, and whatever was coming… it wasn't going to wait.
---
Zane's POV
By the time the convoy rolled out, the sky was still black but bleeding into the faintest pre-dawn gray.
Phil drove the lead car. I kept Tracy in mine, her silence prickling at me in ways I didn't care to examine.
She didn't understand what we were walking into. Hell, maybe I didn't either — not fully. Jake didn't play fair. Never had.
But if he thought he could use her to get to me…
I glanced at her, asleep now with her head against the window, hair falling over her face.
He was wrong.
I'd burn the world before I let him have her.