Lucian abandoned the whiskey entirely, pushing the glass away and capping the bottle with an air of finality. It had tasted wrong anyway.
Instead, he paced the small kitchenette, his mind a whirlwind of emotions and plans. What came next?
How could he ensure her safety without scaring her off? How could he make her see that he wasn’t the enemy she thought him to be?
Lucian paced the small kitchenette, his hands restless. Memories of Isa kept flashing in his mind and they were overwhelming.
The way her eyes used to light up when she smiled, the way she always managed to keep him grounded when his world threatened to spiral out of control. She had been his anchor; more than he'd realized.
Losing her had felt like losing a part of himself.
Isa had been what made him human.
He stopped pacing and leaned heavily against the counter, his head bowed. He didn’t realize his hands were trembling until he looked down and saw them.
He clenched them and reached into his pocket for a pack of cigarettes. Then he froze when he remembered Isa abhorred the things.
Sometimes her mother smoked a lot at once and it left their kitchen smelling of cigar smoke for days after. Isa had not found it appealing.
His eyes darted to the room where she lay asleep. Reasoning that she wouldn't appreciate it if he smoked, he decided to dump the whole pack. He was not much of a smoker anyway.
He settled on the couch and gazed at the ceiling, too excited to sleep.
....
Ayra stirred, the soft hum of a fan breaking through her light sleep. Dim light peeked through the heavy curtains of her safehouse room, spilling faintly onto the plush bed where she lay.
Her muscles ached as she stretched, every movement an unpleasant reminder of the chase and the narrow escape that brought her here.
For a long while, she stayed still, listening to the silence. It was unsettling. She wasn’t used to waking up without the rush of despair or the pounding dread that her enemies were close.
The last few days had been downright unpleasant.
Her thoughts drifted unbidden to Lucian. He was an enigma. Cold, perhaps, but not unkind. He had been surprisingly considerate and she still didn’t know what to make of him.
His actions from the night before left her feeling more curious than cautious.
Eventually, the persistent rumble of her stomach forced her out of bed. Padding softly into the common area, Ayra stopped short.
Lucian was already there, standing at the counter with a mug in hand. He looked impossibly put together, dressed in a Henley shirt and jeans.
“You’re awake,” he said without turning, his voice low and oddly warm.
She nodded, her gaze drawn to the table. Toast, eggs, fruit - simple but unexpected.
“Eat,” Lucian gestured with his mug. “You’ll need it.”
“Thanks,” she murmured, settling down. The toast was warm, its buttery crunch a far cry from the stale crackers she’d lived on before.
“Where’d all this come from? Safe houses don’t usually scream luxury. I thought they were supposed to be, you know, bare-bones”
A faint smile tugged at his lips. “I don’t do discomfort, even when hiding.”
“So, a luxury fugitive, huh?” she teased, unable to resist.
Lucian chuckled softly. “If you insist.”
She was halfway through the meal when he spoke again.
“We'll be leaving soon,” he said, his voice cutting through the fragile calm.
The bite of fruit in her mouth turned sour. “Why? I thought you said this place was secure.”
“For now,” he admitted. “But the men after you are resourceful. They’ve already locked down the nearby areas and it's impossible for us to stay here for more than three days.”
Her fork clattered against the plate. “How do you even know that?”
Lucian tapped his phone. “I have eyes everywhere.”
Her appetite vanished, replaced by a sinking weight in her chest. “And the plan?”
Lucian’s smile turned into a self-assured smirk. “Give it a few hours. You’ll see.”
....
Hours later, Lucian led her down into the basement. She thought they were going back to the room she’d woken in, but instead, he stopped at a blank wall.
Without a word, he pressed a hidden panel. A quiet beep was followed by the soft hiss of a concealed door sliding open, revealing a narrow staircase spiraling down.
Ayra blinked. “Another basement? Are you kidding me? Seriously?”
Lucian’s amused tone carried over his shoulder. “Thoroughness is a habit.”
At the bottom, the space opened into what could only be described as an underground garage. The polished floors gleamed under dim overhead lights, and a single car platform dominated the center.
The faint rumble of machinery pulled her attention to a hidden tunnel. From the shadows emerged a sleek black sports car with red highlights, its headlights cutting through the dimness. Ayra’s jaw dropped.
The driver’s door opened, and a tall man stepped out. His casual leather jacket and jeans couldn’t hide the sharp edge in his movements or the confidence in his stance.
“Nico,” Lucian called.
“Boss,” Nico replied, tossing Lucian a set of keys. “Tunnel’s ready. Decoy’s set.”
“Good.”
Ayra crossed her arms. “And this is…?”
Lucian’s response was maddeningly simple. “Nico.”
"Right. Because I know him," Ayra said drily.
Nico gave her a quick nod. “Pleasure. Heard about you.”
Ayra frowned, unsure whether to feel flattered or concerned.
Lucian turned, dangling the keys. “Passenger seat if you would.”
“You’re driving?” she asked skeptically.
“Yes,” he said, already moving to the car.
Ayra hesitated, glancing at Nico. “What about him?”
Nico moved toward the car, but Lucian raised a hand, stopping him in his tracks.
“He is not coming,” Lucian said.
“What?” Nico’s expression shifted to one of confusion. “Boss, that was not the plan. I’m supposed to -”
“It is now,” Lucian said.
Nico frowned, crossing his arms. “You’re seriously leaving me behind?”
Lucian smirked faintly. “You’ll catch up. Eventually. And by the way ...You can walk. It’ll do you some good.”
Ayra couldn’t help but snort softly at Nico’s stunned expression. “Boss, boss... You’re joking, right?” Nico asked, his voice laced with disbelief.
Lucian ignored him, opening the passenger side door for Ayra. “Get in.”
She hesitated for a moment before sliding into the seat. The interior of the car was as sleek and luxurious as its exterior, with buttery leather seats and a dashboard that looked like something out of a sci-fi movie.
The rich leather interior felt cool beneath her fingertips. Soon the engine purred to life, a quiet promise of speed.
“Good luck,” Lucian said to Nico, the faintest hint of amusement in his tone as he shifted the car into gear.
“Un... Unbelievable,” Nico muttered, shaking his head.
Lucian’s grin widened. “I know.”
Watching the car drive off, Nico whistled.
"So it's chicks before bros for the boss huh? Never thought I'd see the day."
The tunnel blurred past them, the car moving like a living thing under Lucian’s control. Ayra clutched the door handle as he took a sharp turn, her heart racing.
“You couldn’t have brought Nico along?” she asked, her voice strained.
“He’ll survive,” Lucian said, his tone calm. “I wanted to do this myself.”
As they emerged from the tunnel and onto a hidden road, Ayra glanced at Lucian. His usual cold, calculated demeanor had softened, replaced by something she couldn’t quite place.
“Why are you doing all this?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Lucian didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he focused on the road ahead, his expression unreadable. “Because I can,” he said finally.
Ayra frowned, sensing there was more to it than that, but she decided not to pry.
....
For Lucian, the drive was more than just a means of escape - it was a moment to savor. The faint smile on his lips betrayed the satisfaction he felt, not just from outmaneuvering their enemies but from the fact that Isa - Ayra now - was here, beside him.
Every glance she stole at him, every question she asked, only reinforced his belief that she was Isa.
The way her brow furrowed when she was confused, the way she clutched at the door handle when the car took a sharp turn - it was all so familiar.
But Lucian kept his emotions in check, refusing to let his excitement show too much. This was just the beginning, he reminded himself. There was still much to do, much to explain. They still had time. Lots of it.
....
As the car sped along the deserted road, Ayra allowed herself a small moment of relaxation. For the first time in what felt like forever, she felt a glimmer of safety—not because of the car or the road, but because of Lucian.
She didn’t want to admit it, but there was something oddly reassuring about the way he carried himself, the way he seemed to have a plan for everything.
“Where are we going?” she asked, breaking the silence.
Lucian glanced at her, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Somewhere they can’t follow.”
Ayra rolled her eyes. “Very specific.”
Lucian chuckled softly, the sound surprising her. “You’ll see.”
And for the first time, Ayra found herself trusting him, if only a little.
The Wendell agents must have parked it for extraction—either for the handler or for Eleanor. It didn’t matter. Luck, finally, had dealt him a single card.He half-carried Ayra to the car, every step jarring his stabbed arm. When he got to the door, he yanked it open with one hand and slumped her into the backseat, her limp body settling with a thud that made him wince. He climbed into the front, hotwired the engine in seconds, and the vehicle snarled awake.Dust exploded beneath the tires as Lucian pulled away, the SUV tearing across the cracked remnants of a forgotten service road. The sun was already melting into the horizon, casting long shadows that danced with their flight.Ayra stirred in the backseat. Her head shifted, her lips moved."Lucian…?"His hands tightened on the wheel. He glanced into the rearview mirror and saw her eyes, half-lidded, barely tracking movement."You’re safe now," he said quietly. "Just breathe.""Where…" she whispered, "where are we...?""Far from them
The desert wind had shifted.Lucian’s vehicle skidded to a stop just outside the rusted gates of the derelict train station, its tires grinding against sand-coated gravel. He stepped out into a world tense with silence, every instinct on edge. His boots hit the cracked concrete platform in hard, deliberate strides. He didn’t wait for backup.The air was thick with the ghost of engine exhaust. Something had moved here—recently. And fast.Lucian stepped through the archway into the main station hall just in time to hear the faintest echo of movement.Then came the unmistakable *click* of a gun safety being disengaged.He dove sideways, just as the first shot rang out. Plaster exploded from the wall behind him.“Ambush!” he shouted into his comm, though the signal was already being jammed.From behind crates and broken turnstiles, Wendell agents opened fire. Tactical, swift, silent. Lucian moved like a predator uncaged. His pistol barked once—twice—and a shadow dropped. Another lunged
An hour later Lucian and Lisbeth pulled up beside a large van parked beneath a rocky outcropping. It was Lisbeth's and was obviously a mobile tech unit. How exactly she had managed to get something like that out here in such short notice was anyone's guess but then again she was a Russo. She had learnt from the best. The desert heat radiated off the sand like a second sun, burning through tires and patience. Lisbeth leaned over the control terminal inside her mobile unit, fingers flying across the keyboard. Lucian stood nearby, silent but tense. His sharp eyes tracked her every move as she requested access to a military-grade satellite system through a hidden backdoor."You have five minutes before they notice this breach," he warned her tightly."I'll only need three," she replied, jaw set, focus narrowed.Lisbeth had never been this involved in a live operation before, not since the academy, but desperation sharpened her intuition. Lines of encrypted code scrolled past. Her algor
The desert stretched like a parched tongue across the horizon, its grains catching fire beneath the punishing sun. Lucian's car tore down the asphalt with blistering urgency, its wheels devouring the road like predators locked onto a scent. He barely noticed the ache in his knuckles from gripping the steering wheel or the sharp hum of the radio static as Nico's voice crackled in and out. Every mile mattered. Every second was a heartbeat he couldn't spare.Then, a shimmer ahead. A flash of silver in the middle of the highway.Lucian's eyes narrowed. His foot eased off the gas.A black luxury sedan slid into the center of the road with a graceful aggression. It stopped clean, perpendicular, forming a blockade. The doors flew open, and Lisbeth Russo stepped out, crisp suit blowing in the wind, one hand raised as if to halt a war.Lucian's tires screeched as he stopped.He stepped out, boots crunching on gravel. "Lisbeth. Move the car.""You don't give the orders today, Lucian," she said
Fifteen minutes later, the black Land Rover crested a ridge. Nico scanned the terrain with a scope. A trail of tire treads weaved through the gravel, freshly marked."Got you," he muttered.---In the Audi, Eleanor's phone buzzed. She read the message, her jaw tightening."We may need to change the drop point," she told the driver. "If they catch on..."Ayra stirred again. Her lips finally moved. "Where... are we...?"Eleanor glanced over. "Still with me, pet? You're not supposed to be."Her tone had lost all pretense."You’re going somewhere nice. Somewhere they'll never find you. Think of it as... a long vacation."Ayra tried to move her arms. The straps held.She despaired, knowing no one was coming for her. ---Twenty minutes later, the mountain air crackled with incoming vehicles. Nico signaled for a wide flank.But when they reached the convoy—they found only the decoy car. Empty. Clean.The woman inside wasn’t Ayra.Nico stepped out, breathing hard."Nothing?" asked one of the
She pulled into the side of a high-security warehouse moments later. No logos. No guards in sight. But cameras tracked her every move.As she stepped out, her coat billowed in the wind like a cloak. Her heels clicked against the pavement, each step punctuated with purpose. She entered the warehouse, where a digital display on the far wall lit up with maps, camera feeds, and heat signatures.A tall, wiry man with silver-rimmed glasses turned. "We activated the trackers. Eleanor’s burner pinged an untraceable satellite. Military grade."Lisbeth's mouth twitched. "Of course it did. Get the trajectory. Calculate a 10km radius of her last known exit point.""Already working on it."She faced the screen, her arms crossed."She’s not stupid," she muttered. "She knew we’d watch her. So why be so blatant?""Because she wanted to be seen," said another analyst. "A show of confidence. Or a decoy.""Then find the real trail. Use Ayra’s biometrics. Voice imprint. Heat profile. Anything. She couldn