The candlelight flickered over the table between them, casting long shadows against the stone walls of the underground room. Maps, surveillance photos, blueprints—everything they needed to plan the takedown—lay sprawled across the mahogany surface.
Ana sat across from Hayden, her fingers tracing the edge of a silver dagger he'd casually placed near his whiskey glass. She didn't flinch when the blade nicked her thumb. She simply lifted it to her lips and sucked the drop of blood away without breaking eye contact.
Hayden watched her, silently. There was something primal in the way she moved now—like she had accepted the dark, allowed it to take root in her. He had tried to break her. And instead, she had evolved.
He leaned forward. "We'll strike first in Paris. The backup drive he mentioned is real—I had Luca verify the location. But we need more than that."
Ana nodded. "We need the names. All the collaborators. The money trail. Everything that connects your mother's death to my father's empire."
"And if it leads to people we know?" he asked, watching her carefully.
She didn't hesitate. "Then we burn them too."
He smiled, just slightly. Not because he was amused—but because she no longer belonged to anyone but the war. She was no longer Alexander Nicholas's daughter. She was something much more dangerous now.
"I want to be the one who breaks him," Ana said suddenly. "Face to face. He took everything from me too. I just didn't know it at the time."
Hayden rose from his seat, coming around to where she sat. He pulled her to her feet gently, but there was nothing soft about the look in his eyes. "And what if it breaks you, Ana? Seeing him fall?"
"I hope it does," she whispered. "Then I'll know I finally let go."
His hand slid to the small of her back, drawing her closer. "You're not the same woman I found in that gallery."
"No," she breathed. "You ruined her."
"And built this one in her place."
There was heat between them—sharp and urgent. But this time, it wasn't just desire. It was defiance. It was war. It was a promise made in shadows and strategy.
He kissed her then, hard. And she kissed him back like the world was ending.
---
Later, Ana sat in front of a wall lined with weapons. Hayden had taught her how to use a gun in Istanbul. How to lie convincingly in Zurich. How to steal identities in Montenegro. But tonight, he taught her how to kill up close—with a blade.
He stood behind her, his hands on her shoulders, voice low in her ear. "Aim for the soft parts—under the ribs, the neck, the groin. Fast. No hesitation."
She nodded, lifting the knife.
"Again."
She struck at the dummy, the steel cutting clean through the simulated flesh. Her movements were deliberate, focused. Sweat glistened on her brow. Hayden's gaze never left her.
"You're ready," he said.
"I've been ready," she corrected, turning to face him.
This time, she took control—grabbing his collar, yanking him into a kiss that sent sparks flying through his veins. There was nothing hesitant about her anymore. She wasn't the girl he had stalked from the shadows. She was the woman standing beside him in the light of the fire they'd built together.
---
The jet to Paris was sleek and silent, just like the mission.
Ana changed in the back, emerging in a tailored black suit, her blonde hair twisted into a sleek knot. A single knife rested in a thigh sheath under the jacket. Hayden took one look at her and smirked.
"You look like sin."
She slid into the seat beside him, arching a brow. "You look like vengeance."
He lifted her hand and kissed her fingers. "Then we're a perfect match."
---
Paris was cold.
The Montreuil chapel sat at the edge of the city like a forgotten relic. Inside, time had decayed the walls and the air smelled of mildew and secrets. Luca and two other men stood guard outside while Hayden and Ana descended into the crypt.
Their flashlights cut across old stone and shadow. In the far wall of the lowest chamber, Hayden found the brick that didn't match. He pried it loose and pulled out the sealed box behind it.
Inside: a hard drive, old and corroded, but intact.
Ana's breath hitched. "Do you think it has what we need?"
Hayden nodded. "It has everything."
They emerged from the crypt just as headlights washed across the front of the church.
A car.
Two.
Luca shouted, "Incoming!"
Gunfire erupted.
Hayden shoved Ana behind a stone column. "Stay down."
She pulled her own gun, hand steady. "Not a chance."
They moved like a unit—clean, precise. Hayden shot out the front tire of the lead vehicle. Ana ducked behind a marble angel and returned fire, hitting one of the men in the shoulder. Luca's team mowed down the rest.
It was over in less than four minutes.
Ana stood up slowly, heart racing, hands bloody.
Hayden grabbed her face, checking her. "Are you hit?"
"No," she said, still catching her breath. "But I liked that."
He laughed once—a rare sound. "I should be terrified."
She leaned in, voice low. "You should be addicted."
He kissed her again, harder this time, blood on their lips and war in their veins.
---
Back on the jet, Hayden plugged the drive into his secure laptop.
As files began loading, Ana sat beside him, watching names flash across the screen. Bank transactions. Off-shore accounts. Orders signed in blood.
There it was.
Proof.
"Your father won't survive this," Hayden said.
Ana's eyes were locked on the screen. "Neither will I... not as I was."
She looked at him, her voice softer now. "What happens after revenge?"
He closed the laptop slowly. "Then we decide what's left of us."
And in that silence, as the jet flew them toward a future soaked in fire, both of them knew—revenge might have brought them together.
But it was the darkness that made them one.