The city never truly slept, but that morning it held its breath.
Melissa sat cross-legged on the kitchen floor, hair wild, makeup smeared, barefoot in Max's oversized hoodie. Her penthouse was a war zone shattered glass, blood smears, the ghost of smoke still thick in the air.
The police had come and gone, taking statements they didn't believe and pretending not to notice the traces of a high-level cover-up. Max had refused to leave her side. Not once. Not even when the paramedics came. He sat on the floor next to her, shirt stained with someone else's blood, jaw clenched like he was chewing on the need to kill someone. It wasn't love that bound them. Not yet. It was war. "Whoever sent them," she whispered, staring at nothing, "they knew where I sleep."
Max didn't blink. "And that means one thing."
"Inside job," she finished.
He stood, ran a hand over his face, and made a call. Three seconds of silence, then, "Double the security. I want a sniper on the opposite rooftop. Thermal surveillance. I don't care what it costs. She doesn't breathe alone."
She wanted to argue. Fight it. She hated the idea of being protected like some fragile glass doll. But part of her, the part that hadn't slept since the attack knew she needed him right now. Needed his power, his ruthlessness, his name. She was still staring into the blood-speckled marble floor when her phone vibrated with a single message.
UNKNOWN SENDER:Play me.
Attached: a video file.
Melissa didn't hesitate. She pressed play.
The footage began in grainy black and white. A hidden camera. A hotel suite. Suite 77. Avery Khumo, seated in the same chair from last night's meeting. Only this time, he wasn't alone.
Max.
Melissa froze.
She watched Max walk into the room, take a glass of whiskey, sit like he'd been there before. He wasn't tense. He wasn't surprised. He looked… familiar with the place.
"Avery," he said on screen. "I told you she's not part of this."
"She made herself part of it," Avery answered. "You should've pulled out when I told you."
"I don't back out. You know that."
"Then prepare to bury her."
The video stopped. Her blood ran cold. "Melissa," Max said in real-time. She turned the phone toward him, pressed play again. His face paled as his own voice played back. He stepped forward slowly, expression unreadable.
"What is this?" she demanded. "What kind of sick game are you playing?"
"It's not what it looks like," he said quietly, but she'd heard that line too many times. He tried to take the phone. She pulled it back.
"You knew him. You met him before me. This ,this is part of your war, isn't it?"He sighed. A muscle ticked in his jaw. "I was supposed to ruin you," he finally said. "That was the plan. Until I couldn't." She staggered back as if slapped. "So this whole time, I was just leverage? A power play?"
"At first, yes," he said. "Until you started fighting back. Until you turned every damn move I made into a mirror and made me see myself."Melissa swallowed the scream rising in her throat. "You manipulated me."
"I protected you."
"You lied to me."
He stepped closer. "And I fell in love with you."
Silence.
She stared at him, pulse thundering in her ears.
"No," she whispered. "You don't get to say that."
"Say what?"
"That you love me. Not when your hands are stained with secrets. Not when I'm just a pawn between you and Khumo."
"You were never a pawn," Max said. "You're the queen. And every man in this game is terrified of what you might do next."
For a moment, her heart cracked.But only for a moment. "I'm done being in the middle," she said, voice razor-sharp. "Either you end this war. Or I will."
Later that night, Melissa packed a duffel bag. No heels. No dresses. Just black jeans, boots, a burner phone, and a steel-barreled revolver she'd inherited from Naledi's past life,the one hidden in a shoebox under the bed, along with a birth certificate. She kissed her belly once. "I got us," she whispered. Then she disappeared.
Across the city, Avery Khumo stood in front of a wall of screens. Each one showed a different angle of Melissa. Her walking into elevators. Leaving her building. Entering Eden Hotel. Talking to a street vendor. He watched her like one watches a storm building in the distance.
"She's moved," one of his men said. "Went dark. She's not in any of the safe zones."
Avery smiled. "Let her run," he said. "Even hurricanes need wind."