By the time they reached the edge of the next city, Liam had stopped answering his phone.
Not that many people had the number. But one had called twice. Then a third time.
The screen only showed one word: "Reign."
Elena noticed. "Who's that?"
He stared at the screen for a moment before flipping it facedown. "Someone who trained me. Someone I hoped I'd never owe."
That night, they found a safehouse through a contact in the city—a crumbling Victorian flat with blackout curtains, old locks, and a roof high enough to see trouble coming.
Liam barely spoke as he unpacked the laptop, setting it up on the dining table. Elena stayed near the window, watching traffic blur into rain-streaked red and white.
"You're different," she said quietly.
Liam didn't look up. "What do you mean?"
"You're quieter. Sharper. Like something's shifted."
He was silent for a long time.
Then: "There's a part of me I've kept buried. Because it's dangerous. Because if I let it out, I don't know if I can put it back."
Elena turned. "Why now?"
"Because to protect you—us—I may need to use it."
She didn't reply right away. Then: "Let me see it."
"What?"
"Whatever you're hiding. I can't fight beside a stranger."
He closed the laptop. Walked over slowly. His voice was steady, but something behind his eyes—something cold and methodical—had surfaced.
"I was recruited at nineteen," he said. "Private intelligence firm. Off-books. No oversight. My job was to extract information. Sometimes physically. Sometimes with silence."
Elena held his gaze.
"I thought I was doing the right thing," he continued. "Until I realized we weren't protecting people. We were protecting systems. Dirty ones. And the day I walked away, they burned my name off every record."
"You became a ghost."
He nodded. "But some ghosts don't stay buried."
—
The next morning, Reign called again.
Liam finally answered.
"Where the hell have you been?" a woman's voice crackled through the speaker.
"Out."
"You lit up Trask's operation like a goddamn bonfire. You think that won't ripple?"
"Was the point."
A pause. Then: "I can help. One time. I've got a client—underground press. They'll leak your data set, untraceable."
"What's the catch?"
"You'll owe me. Big."
Liam's jaw clenched. "Send the address."
—
That night, they drove to a condemned warehouse near the docks. Inside, it was all shadows and rusted metal. A woman in combat boots and a long coat stood by a generator lamp.
Reign.
Sharp cheekbones, tattoos like maps. Eyes like a wolf's.
"You're the girl?" she said to Elena. "You're what made him come out of hiding?"
Elena lifted her chin. "I'm not a reason. I'm the mission."
Reign grinned. "Fair."
They uploaded the data. Reign's contact took it from there—encrypted, scattered across a dozen firewalls.
As they left, Reign called after them: "You've got twelve hours, maybe. Once this goes live, every name on that list will be hunting you both."
Liam didn't look back. "We're counting on it."
—
In the car, Elena turned to him. "What happens now?"
"We stop running," he said.
"Then what?"
He looked over. Something softer returned to his voice. "Then we see if two broken people can build something that lasts."
She reached over and took his hand.
And for the first time, she believed they might.
The streets were slick with rain, puddles catching glimmers of light from passing cars and flickering signs. Liam drove in silence, one hand steady on the wheel, the other resting between them. His fingers brushed hers lightly, as if asking a question without speaking it.
Elena laced their hands together.
They didn't stop driving until the city had fallen behind and the only sound was the soft rhythm of tires on wet pavement. Eventually, Liam pulled off onto a gravel path lined with pines, the road winding up toward a dark overlook.
He stopped the engine.
"What is this place?" she asked, stepping out into the cool night.
"A place I used to come when I wanted to feel real."
The stars peeked through the thinning clouds, and far below, the city blinked like it was exhaling. Quiet stretched between them—gentler now, no longer edged with fear.
Elena leaned against the hood of the car. "You really think this ends soon?"
Liam moved beside her, close enough for warmth to pass between their shoulders. "I don't know. But I know I'm done waiting to live until it does."
She turned to face him, brushing a damp strand of hair from his forehead. "What if we don't get another quiet moment?"
"Then we make one now."
He kissed her again—slow, unhurried. Not like before when tension simmered under every touch, but like he was memorizing the feel of her lips, the taste of this fragile peace.
When he pulled back, he didn't speak. He just rested his forehead against hers, his breath warm and steady.
"I want a future with you," she whispered.
His voice broke slightly. "I didn't know I could want that again."
Their fingers remained interlaced as they sat on the hood of the car in silence, watching the clouds roll apart and stars scatter across the night sky.
For a moment, the world wasn't chasing them. The ghosts went quiet. And there was only this—two hearts still beating, still choosing each other in the ruins of what had come before.