Alexander voss had always believed there were two types of pain in the world: the kind you could swallow, and the kind that swallowed you. Tonight felt like the second kind.
He sat alone in his office long after the building had emptied. Midnight painted the glass walls with silver shadows, and the city lights below flickered like dying embers. His tie was undone, his jaw clenched so tightly that it ached. He kept replaying Lydia's last voicemail—her soft, shaky voice telling him she'd "figured something out," that she needed to meet him, that she didn't feel safe.
He hadn't listened soon enough.
A sharp knock broke through the storm inside his head. He didn't answer. Didn't have to. The door opened anyway.
Julienne stepped in quietly.
Her expression was unreadable, but the moment she saw his face, something in her eyes softened.
"Mr voss ...." she began, closing the door behind her.
He didn't look at her. He couldn't. His fingers were gripping the edge of his desk so hard his knuckles had turned white. "Say it."
Julienne hesitated, then spoke gently. "They found her near the old bridge. No signs of life when the police arrived."
The words drifted through the room, soft but heavy enough to crush bone.
Alexander's breath left him in one sharp exhale. He lowered his head, eyes shadowed. "Lydia…"
Julienne stepped closer, but not too close. She knew better. Grief wrapped around him like armor—cold, sharp, impenetrable.
"She called me." His voice was low, breaking in places he never allowed it to. "I didn't answer."
"It wouldn't have changed anything," she said softly.
He snapped his gaze up, finally looking at her—his eyes fierce, hollow, furious. "Yes. It would have."
Julienne's stomach tightened. This wasn't the Alexander she knew—not the controlled, collected one. This was the man who had survived the Black Vipers and lived with the scars they carved into his past. This was the boy who'd grown into a blade.
He stood abruptly, knocking a stack of documents to the floor. "They think this will scare me into keeping quiet. They think killing one woman erases the fact that I know everything. That I saw everything."
His voice cracked, just once.
"I brought her into this," he whispered. "I promised her she'd be safe under this company. I promised she could leave the Vipers behind."
Julienne swallowed. "You protected her as much as you could."
Alexander let out a dry, humorless sound. "Clearly not enough."
Silence filled the room—thick, suffocating.
Julienne didn't try to touch him. Instead, she sat in the chair across from him and folded her hands. "What are you going to do now?"
His expression hardened into something sharp and lethal. "End it."
Her breath hitched. "Alexander—"
"They went after Lydia because they she knew something," he continued, pacing slowly, each step tightening the air. "She told me she found one of the flash drives they hid during the last operation. She said it had names, locations, money transfers… proof enough to bring the entire gang to its knees."
"And now it's gone?" Julienne asked.
He nodded once.
"Someone took it from her . And whoever did knew exactly where she hid it."
Julienne felt a chill crawl down her spine. "Meaning the gang has someone on the inside?"
Alexander stopped pacing.
Then he turned to her with a look that made her breath freeze.
"No. It means Cynthia was never the one they wanted."
Julienne blinked. "Alexander, what are you saying?"
He exhaled, slow and tormented. "Lydia wasn't supposed to find that flash drive. Cynthia was."
It took a moment for the words to sink in. A long, horrifying moment.
"Wait," Julienne whispered. "Are you saying the Vipers thought Lydia was Cynthia?"
He didn't respond.
He didn't need to.
Julienne covered her mouth, the realization slamming into her chest. In
Alexander shut his eyes.
He hated himself for it. Hated that his decision to push Cynthia away had been the right one. Hated that someone innocent had died in her place. Hated that the guilt was now carved so deep inside him he didn't know how he was supposed to breathe through it.
"I told Cynthia to find somewhere safe," he said quietly. "But she still refuses to understand how dangerous this is."
Julienne stood. "Do you want me to call her? Warn her again?"
"No." His voice was barely above a whisper. "If they realize she ran, they'll know she's involved. They'll assume she knows something."
"And she doesn't."
"That's what scares me the most," he murmured. "They're willing to kill for information she doesn't even have."
Julienne looked at him—really looked. Beneath the anger and grief, there was something else. Something raw. Something terrified.
"You care about her," she said softly.
His jaw tightened. "This isn't about caring. It's about responsibility."
Her expression turned knowing. "Alexander."
He didn't answer. Couldn't.
Instead, he walked to the window and stared at the city below—the one place he'd fought to rise above, the one place that kept dragging him back into the shadows he tried so hard to escape.
"Lydia trusted me," he said quietly. "And now she's dead."
Julienne stepped closer. "That wasn't your fault."
He laughed bitterly. "Everything is my fault."
"No," she insisted. "The Vipers made their choice. You didn't."
He didn't respond.
Because deep down, he didn't believe her.
His voice, when it finally broke the silence, was low and dangerous:
"I'm going to find her killer."
Julienne blinked. "Alexander, going after them alone—"
"I'm not asking."
He turned, and the look in his eyes made her take a step back—not from fear, but from understanding.
This wasn't about revenge.
This was about ending something that had been chasing him for years.
He grabbed his coat and headed for the door.
"Where are you going?" she called after him.
He paused in the doorway, eyes cold as steel.
"To make sure no one else dies because of me."
And with that, he disappeared into the shadows of the hallway, leaving Julienne alone with the truth