Chapter 2107 - App 61

Yelena, on the other hand, was anything but quiet.

She leaned back in her chair, one leg crossed over the other, her dark eyes flicking between Claire and me with a smirk that promised trouble. "You're both so tense," she purred, her voice dripping with amusement.

"Like a couple of wound-up springs. Or maybe just wound up in general." She let out a low, throaty laugh, her fingers tapping idly against the table.

"Claire, dorogaya, you look like you're about to snap." Her gaze slid to me, slow and deliberate, like a caress.

Claire exhaled, running a hand through her hair. "It's been a long day."

"Mmm, I'll say," Yelena hummed, her lips curling into a smirk. She stood, stretching like a cat, her body arching just enough to make it clear she knew exactly what she was doing.

"But you know what they say about stress, yes?" She stepped closer, her hips swaying with every movement, her fingers trailing along the back of my chair. "The best way to relieve it is exercise together."

Claire's jaw clenched, but she didn't look up.

Yelena's smirk deepened as she leaned in, her breath warm against my ear. "Or maybe you just need a distraction," she murmured, her voice a velvet whisper.

"Something to take your mind off things." Her fingers brushed against my shoulder, slow and deliberate, before sliding down my arm. "Or someone."

"Hmm?" She tilted her head, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "Just offering, solnyshko (Sweetheart)," she purred, her voice dropping into something darker, something that sent a shiver down my spine. "You look like you could use it."

Claire's fingers twitched against the table, but she still didn't look up.

Yelena's laughter was soft, knowing. She stepped back, her gaze sliding to Claire. "Or maybe she's the one who needs it," she said, her voice teasing but edged with something sharper.

"You've been avoiding him all night, Claire. Like he's going to bite." She leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Or maybe you're just afraid he will."

Claire's head snapped up, her eyes burning with something raw and furious. "Shut up, Yelena."

Yelena just grinned, unfazed. "Or what?" she taunted, her voice light. "You'll shoot me?" She laughed, stepping back with a flourish. "Please. We both know you'd miss."

Claire's breath hitched, but she didn't deny it.

Yelena's gaze slid back to me, her smirk turning wicked. "You know," she said, her voice dropping into something slower, something that felt like a promise, "if you ever get tired of playing the knight in shining armor..." She leaned in again, her lips brushing against my ear as she whispered, "My door is always unlocked."

Then she pulled back, her laughter ringing through the warehouse as she sauntered away, her hips swaying with every step.

Claire's fingers curled into fists on the table.

I exhaled, my pulse still racing.

Yelena turned back, her smirk never fading. "Let me tell you a secret," she said, her voice dripping with amusement. "She's divorced." She stepped closer, her fingers brushing against my arm again. "Her husband was a professor. Very smart. Very boring." Her lips curled into a smirk. "And very unfaithful."

Claire's breath hitched, but she didn't react.

Yelena's voice dropped into something softer, something almost sympathetic. "She came home early from a mission once. Found him in their bed with one of his students." She shook her head, her expression darkening for just a second. "Men like that don't deserve women like her."

Then her smirk returned, her voice turning teasing again. "But you?" She leaned in, her gaze locking onto mine. "You might have a chance." She stepped back, her laughter ringing through the air. "If you can keep up."

Claire finally looked at me, her expression unreadable.

Yelena winked. "Or, if you can't hold out..." She gestured toward the hallway, her voice dropping into something darker. "My room is unlocked." Then she laughed, stepping away with a chuckle. "Just kidding."

But the way she looked at me made it clear she wasn't.

Not entirely.

I reached out to SERA, my mind racing.

Confirm: Claire Starling's marital status.

SERA's response was instant.

Claire Starling was married to Dr. Daniel, a professor at Georgetown University. Divorced 18 months ago.

Reason: Infidelity on Dr. Daniel's part. Claire was deployed for extended periods. He cheated. She filed. No contest.

My stomach twisted.

Claire sat at the table, her fingers wrapped around the bottle of vodka like it was the only thing keeping her grounded. She didn't look at me. Didn't speak. Just poured another glass, her movements sharp and unsteady, the liquid sloshing over the rim as she lifted it to her lips. Again. And again.

I watched from the doorway, my chest tight.

She wasn't just drinking.

She was drowning.

I stepped forward, my hand closing over the glass as she poured another shot. "Claire," I said, my voice firm but gentle. "I think you've had enough."

She didn't look at me. "What do you care?" she slurred, her voice raw and bitter. "Go to Yelena. She might still be awake." Her fingers tightened around the bottle, her knuckles white. "She's better at this than I am."

"Claire, you're drunk," I said, my voice low.

"No," she snapped, her eyes finally flicking to mine, wild and glistening. "I want to drink more. More. More." She tried to yank the glass from my grip, but I didn't let go.

"Let me take you to your room," I said, my voice steady.

She didn't move. Just glared at me, her breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps. "I don't need you to take care of me."

I exhaled, my patience wearing thin. "Claire—"

"I said no!" she snapped, her voice cracking.

I didn't argue.

Instead, I stepped closer, my arms sliding around her before she could protest. She was lighter than I expected, her body tense as I lifted her against my chest. She didn't fight me.

Didn't struggle. Just went limp, her head falling against my shoulder as I carried her toward the room Yelena had set up for her.

The hallway was dim, the air thick with the weight of everything unsaid. Claire's breath was warm against my neck, her fingers clutching at my shirt like she was afraid I'd let her go.

When I lay her down on the bed, her face was flushed—bright red, like a tomato. I couldn't tell if it was from the alcohol or something else. Shame, maybe. Vulnerability.

She didn't let go of me.

Her arms wrapped around my wrist, her grip tight. "Don't go to that, Yelena," she slurred, her voice thick with something raw. "I can—I can also do what she can do."

My breath caught.

Her eyes were wide, glassy, her lashes damp. "See," she whispered, her fingers fumbling with the buttons of her shirt before she grabbed my hand and pressed it against her chest. "They're bigger. Better than Yelena's."

I swallowed hard, my pulse spiking. "Claire, you're drunk," I said, my voice rough as I gently pulled my hand away.

She didn't let go.

"Stay," she whispered, her voice breaking. "Please. Don't leave"

I studied Claire's face—her flushed cheeks, the way her breath hitched just a little too perfectly, the way her fingers trembled against my shirt, but not quite enough to sell the act completely.

Claire Starling—FBI agent, survivor, someone who had faced down criminals and betrayal without flinching—drunk? So easily? So completely?

No.

It didn't add up.

Her breathing was uneven, but her eyes—though half-lidded—still flickered with a sharpness that betrayed her.

The way she clung to me wasn't the desperate grasp of someone lost to alcohol. It was calculated. A performance. One she was putting on for reasons I couldn't quite unravel yet.

I could've called her out. Could've teased her, pushed her, watched her squirm as she tried to justify her act. But that wouldn't be interesting. Not yet.

Instead, I sat down beside her on the bed, my movements slow, deliberate. My fingers brushed against her cheek, gently patting her face before adjusting the strands of hair that had fallen across her forehead. "I'm not going anywhere," I murmured, my voice soft, almost tender. "Get some rest."

Claire's lashes fluttered, her breath hitching just slightly as my fingers trailed along her jawline. She didn't pull away. Didn't open her eyes. But I could hear her—the storm of thoughts raging beneath the surface, a whirlwind of panic, shame, and something far more vulnerable.

[Oh my God. Oh my God. OH MY GOD. What the hell was I thinking?! Claire, you have TWO DAUGHTERS. TWO.. And you're acting like some... some desperate, drunk mess in front of JACK.]

[What if he thinks I'm pathetic? What if he thinks I'm—]

[No, no, no. It's the alcohol. It has to be. I never lose control like this. But I didn't even drink that much. Did I?]

[Oh God, did I? What if I really DID lose control? What if I— No. No, I'm still in control. I'm still ME. But then why does it feel like I'm drowning? Why does it feel like I can't breathe when I think about him leaving? Why does it feel like I need him to stay more than I need my next breath? This isn't me. This isn't ME.]

[I don't get attached. I don't NEED people. But Jack... He's different. He's not like Daniel. He's not like any of them. Daniel was selfish. Weak. He betrayed me without a second thought.]

[But Jack... He stayed. He didn't run when things got hard. He didn't flinch when Natalya played her games. He's still here. And I—I just grabbed his hand and put it on my— OH MY GOD. What is WRONG with me?!]

[I'm a MOTHER. A FEDERAL AGENT. I don't do this. I don't BEHAVE like this. But then why did I— Why did I WANT him to— No. No, no, no. It's the stress. It's the mission. It's NATALYA. She messed with my head. That's all this is. But then why does my chest still hurt? Why do I still feel like I'm going to cry if he walks away? Why does it feel like I'm falling apart?]

Her lashes lifted just a fraction, her dark, glistening eyes peeking at me from beneath them. I kept my gaze on her face, my expression soft, almost amused. "She looks so cute drunk like this," I murmured, more to myself than anything.

Claire's thoughts exploded into chaos.

[Cute? He thinks I'm CUTE? Me? An OLD WOMAN? Cute in his eyes? Oh God, oh God, oh God—What if he's just being NICE? What if he's laughing at me right now? What if he thinks I'm ridiculous?]

[But he's not laughing. He's not pulling away. He's still HERE. His hand is still on my face. His thumb is still brushing my cheek like I'm something PRECIOUS. No one's touched me like this in YEARS. Not since Daniel. And even then— Daniel never looked at me like THIS.]

[Daniel never MADE ME FEEL like this. But Jack— Jack makes me feel like I'm going to BURN. And I don't know how to handle it. I don't know how to STOP it.]

[ I should push him away. I should tell him to leave. But I don't WANT him to leave. I want him to STAY. I want him to KEEP looking at me like this. I want— No. NO. I can't want this. I can't NEED this. But I do. God help me, I DO.]

I didn't say anything.

I just stayed there, watching her, my hand still resting against her cheek.

And I waited.

Claire's breath hitched, her thoughts a whirlwind of panic and shame. She couldn't face me. Couldn't bear the thought of me seeing her like this—vulnerable, exposed, needy. So she did the only thing she could think of: she turned away, her body curling in on itself as she pretended to succumb to the drunkenness she'd faked.

[I can't face him...]

[If I just pretend to be asleep, he'll leave...]

[He'll think I'm passed out, and he'll go...]

[And then I won't have to see the look in his eyes—pity, or worse, disgust...]

She turned her face to the other side, her breath slow and deliberate, her body feigning the heavy stillness of sleep. But I didn't move. I just sat there, quiet, watching her. Listening.

[Why isn't he leaving?]

[Why is he still here?]

[Does he know I'm faking?]

[No, no, he can't. I'm too good at this.]

[But then why does it feel like he can see right through me?]

I reached out, pulling the blanket over her, tucking it gently around her shoulders. She didn't stir, but her thoughts betrayed her.

[He's covering me up...]

[Why?]

[Does he actually care, or is he just being polite?]

[No one's taken care of me like this in so long...]

I didn't answer her unspoken questions. I just sat beside her, my presence a quiet promise. I wasn't leaving. Not yet. Not when she was like this.

Claire's thoughts spiraled, her mind racing even as her body pretended to sleep.

[Will he stay here... like this?]

[Just because I asked him to stay?]

I could practically hear Claire's heartbeat, the rapid, uneven rhythm of it betraying the storm inside her. She lay still, her eyes squeezed shut like she was trying to block out the world—me—but her thoughts were a whirlwind of chaos.

I leaned in, my lips brushing against her forehead in a gesture so gentle it felt like a confession. "Good night, Claire," I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper.

Her thoughts exploded.

[He—] [He...]

[He KISSED me]

I chuckled inwardly, my lips curling into a faint smile. It won't be long now.

As I stood and turned toward the door, I caught sight of Yelena in the living area, her fingers flying over the keyboard of her laptop, the glow of the screen casting sharp, angular shadows across her face.

She didn't look up at first, too absorbed in whatever she was doing, but then she must've sensed my presence because her head snapped up, her dark eyes locking onto mine with a smirk that promised nothing but trouble.

"I hope you guys used protection," she said, her voice dripping with amusement. "I don't want any fishy smells lingering in my safe house."

She leaned back in her chair, her grin turning wicked as she stretched her arms above her head. "And if you left dirty sheets, you're washing them yourself. I'm not your maid."

I blinked, caught off guard by her bluntness. "What... what are you talking about, Sister Yelena?" I asked, my voice carefully neutral, though I could feel the corners of my mouth twitching.

She let out a low, throaty laugh, shaking her head. "Oh, spare me the act," she said, her voice teasing but sharp. "I may not have eyes in that room, but I'm not blind." She tilted her head, her gaze piercing. "You two were in there for a while."

She winked. "So. Spill. Did you finally make a move, or are you still playing the gentleman?"

I crossed my arms, my expression unreadable. "You have quite the imagination."

Yelena laughed, unfazed. "Oh, I don't need imagination," she said, her voice dropping into something smoother, more knowing.

"I've seen the way you look at her. The way she looks at you." She leaned forward, her elbows resting on her knees, her gaze sharp. "So. Tell me the truth—do you like Claire?"

I met her eyes, my expression serious. Then, slowly, I nodded. "Yeah," I admitted, my voice quiet but firm. "I do like her."

Yelena's smirk deepened, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "So you do like older sisters, huh?" She let out a low, amused laugh, shaking her head. "You're a pervert, you know that, right?" She leaned back again, her voice dropping into a conspiratorial whisper.

"But hey, who am I to judge?" She winked. "Just don't break her heart. She's been through enough."

I didn't answer right away. Instead, I studied her, my mind already racing ahead, piecing together the next steps. "She's stronger than you think," I said finally, my voice steady.

Yelena's expression softened just slightly, her smirk fading into something almost serious. "I know," she said, her voice quieter. "But strong people break too. Sometimes harder." She paused, her gaze flicking toward the hallway where Claire's room was.

"She's been alone for a long time. And not just because of the divorce." She looked back at me, her eyes sharp. "She doesn't let people in. Ever. So if she's letting you in..." She trailed off, her voice dropping into something almost warning. "Don't screw it up."

I exhaled, running a hand through my hair. "I don't plan to."

Yelena studied me for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then, with a smirk, she leaned back in her chair, her voice returning to its usual teasing tone. "Good," she said, her eyes gleaming.

"Because if you do, I will shoot you." She laughed, waving a hand dismissively. "Now go get some sleep. Or don't. I'm not your mother."

Yelena turned back to her laptop, her fingers already flying over the keys with practiced ease. "But if you do end up in her room again," she said, her voice dripping with amusement, "at least have the decency to be quiet. I don't want to hear you two going at it like rabbits." She chuckled, her smirk never fading as she refocused on the screen in front of her.

I didn't move. Instead, I pulled up a chair and sat beside her, my eyes flicking to the laptop. The screen was a maze of dark web forums, encrypted messages, and half-hidden threads. She was contacting GhostByte, her fingers moving swiftly as she typed out a message in coded language.

"Asking for information on the Italian Mafia that came to Russia recently?" I asked, my voice low as I leaned in slightly, my eyes scanning the screen.

Yelena didn't look up, but her smirk deepened. "Mmm, someone's nosy," she teased, though her tone was light, her focus unwavering. "But yes. Natalya's little file was interesting, but I don't trust her. I want to see if GhostByte's intel matches up."

I watched as Yelena's fingers flew across the keyboard, cross-referencing Natalya's intel with the encrypted data streaming in from GhostByte. The names, dates, and locations aligned almost perfectly—too perfectly.

The Italians were here, and they weren't just passing through. They were digging in, setting up, preparing for something big. The air in the warehouse was thick with tension, the hum of the laptop the only sound breaking the silence.

And then there was her—Yelena. The scent of her filled the space between us, a mix of something sharp and metallic, like gunpowder and coffee, with the faintest hint of sweat.

I leaned back slightly, my voice quiet. "Sister Yelena..." I started, hesitating just slightly. "Do you have family?"

Her fingers stilled over the keys. For a moment, she didn't move, didn't speak. Then, slowly, she shook her head. "No," she said, her voice flat, her gaze fixed on the screen.

"I knew from the beginning that this life was dangerous. That anyone close to me would be in danger because of me." She exhaled, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. "So I never went that way."

There was something in her voice—something raw, something that made my chest tighten. "That's a lonely way to live," I said, my voice soft.

Yelena's fingers started moving again, her voice sharp, almost dismissive. "Lonely is safe," she said, her tone light but her eyes dark. "Safe for them. Safe for me." She glanced at me, her smirk returning, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Besides, I have you now, don't I? My favorite pervert."

Yelena's chuckle was low and teasing, her dark eyes gleaming with amusement as she shot me a smirk. I couldn't help but smile back, shaking my head at her antics. But the moment was short-lived. Her laptop pinged with an incoming message, and her expression shifted instantly—sharp, focused, deadly. She leaned in, her fingers flying over the keys as she pulled up the encrypted file from GhostByte.

"This is it," she said, her voice dropping into something colder, something lethal. "The location where they're holed up."

She turned the screen slightly so I could see—a sprawling estate on the outskirts of the city, surrounded by high walls and heavily armed guards. "Looks like some mansion," she muttered, her lips curling into a smirk. "Fitting. The Italians always did love their dramatics."

She closed the laptop with a snap, her movements swift and decisive. "I'll go get our car ready," she said, standing up and stretching her arms. "We'll leave first thing in the morning and deal with them once and for all."

She moved to the table where the weapons Natalya had provided were laid out—guns, ammunition, and, most notably, a compact rocket launcher. Yelena picked it up, her fingers checking the mechanism with practiced ease before she started refilling the magazines with bullets.

She glanced at me, her smirk returning. "What are you looking at?" she said, her voice teasing but her eyes sharp. "Help me put them in the car."

I nodded, moving to assist her. We worked in silence, the weight of the weapons a stark reminder of what was coming. The guns clinked as we loaded them into the trunk, the rocket launcher tucked carefully beside them. The air between us was thick with anticipation, the kind that comes before a storm.

Once we were done, Yelena leaned against the car, her arms crossed, her gaze distant. "We'll hit them hard," she said, her voice quiet but firm. "No mercy. No second chances."

I didn't answer. I didn't need to. We both knew what was at stake.

Yelena exhaled, rubbing her temples with a weariness that seemed to seep into her bones. She pushed off the car and headed back inside without another word, her movements heavy with exhaustion.

She didn't even make it to her room—just collapsed onto the couch with a sigh, her body finally surrendering to the weight of the last few hours. Her legs were pressed together, her arms resting loosely at her sides, her face turned toward me as her eyes closed. She looked almost vulnerable like this—guarded, but soft. Beautiful in a way that made my chest tighten.

I sat in the chair across from her, my gaze tracing the lines of her face, the way her dark lashes rested against her cheeks, the faintest hint of a frown still lingering on her lips. There was an urge, sudden and unexpected, to lean in and kiss her—just once, just to see how she'd react. But before I could even move, Yelena's voice cut through the silence, her eyes still closed.

"You're not planning on pouncing on me right now, are you?" she murmured, her voice dry but edged with something softer. "Go to your Claire."

I shook my head, a faint smile tugging at my lips. I stood, turning toward the hallway that led to Yelena's room. But as I pushed the door open, I froze.

Her panties and bra were discarded on the bed—simple, black silk, nothing fancy, but the sight of them there, so intimate and unexpected, made my pulse jump. It was a side of her I hadn't seen before, a glimpse into a life she kept hidden. I didn't linger. Instead, I grabbed the blanket from the bed and turned back toward the living area, leaving her things exactly as they were.

Yelena was still on the couch, her breath slow and even, but as I draped the blanket over her, she stirred slightly. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice barely more than a breath, her tone shaky in a way that made my chest ache.

I didn't answer. I just stood there for a moment, watching her, the weight of her words settling over me.

Because I realized something then—something that made my throat tighten.

These women—Claire and Yelena—they weren't just strong. They were lonely. They'd been fighting for so long, been betrayed and abandoned, that something as simple as kindness, as care, was enough to shake them. Enough to make them feel.

I sat down in the chair, closing my eyes, my mind still racing with the weight of everything. The silence of the warehouse wrapped around me, thick and heavy, and I decided to just rest—just for a little while.

I didn't know how long had passed when the faint sound of movement from Claire's room cut through the quiet. The noise was slight—a rustle of sheets, the creak of a floorboard—but it was enough to stir Yelena from her sleep.

She shifted on the couch, her eyes blinking open as she glanced at the clock on the wall. Then, with a slow stretch, she sat up, her dark eyes locking onto me with a smirk that was equal parts teasing and knowing.

Yelena's voice was still thick with sleep, but her smirk was sharp as ever. "You didn't go to your wife," she teased, stretching her arms above her head with a yawn that made her chest rise, the fabric of her tank top straining just enough to draw the eye.

"But you stayed with me." She tilted her head, her dark eyes gleaming with amusement. "Tell me, Bratik, are you attracted to your sister's charm?"

I didn't rise to the bait, just watched as she stood and sauntered toward her room, her hips swaying with that effortless confidence of hers. "Maybe I just didn't trust you not to burn the place down while I was asleep," I called after her, my voice dry.

She laughed, disappearing into her room with a wink. "Keep telling yourself that."

The sound of the shower starting up filled the silence, and a moment later, Claire stepped out of her room. She looked fresh—like she'd just showered—her hair damp, her skin flushed.

She was wrapped in a towel, the fabric clinging just enough to show off the curve of her cleavage, the swell of her hips. Her face was pink, her eyes darting everywhere but at me, the memory of last night clearly still burning in her mind.

"Where's Yelena?" she asked, her voice carefully neutral, though her fingers twitched at her sides.

"She just went in to take a shower," I said, my voice even.

Claire nodded, her blush deepening as she walked over to the laptop Yelena had left open. She scanned the information from GhostByte, her expression tightening as she took in the details—the location, the names, the timeline. "So it's really them," she murmured, more to herself than to me.

I didn't answer. Instead, I turned and made my way to Claire's room, pushing the door open. The bathroom door was ajar, and I caught sight of her bra and panties hanging on the hook inside—simple, practical, but undeniably hers.

The bathroom door clicked shut behind me, the steam already fogging up the mirror as I turned on the water. My mind was still on Claire—the way her fingers had trembled when she grabbed her things, the way her blush had deepened when she realized I'd seen them.

On Yelena, too, with her lazy confidence and teasing fire, the way she'd stretched like a cat, all knowing smirks and unspoken challenges.

I showered quickly, the hot water doing little to clear my head. When I stepped out, Claire and Yelena were both dressed and ready, their expressions all business.

Claire's fingers twitched at her sides, her gaze darting everywhere but at me, her cheeks still flushed with the ghost of last night's embarrassment.

She cleared her throat, her voice carefully casual. "I didn't do anything... strange after drinking, right?"

Yelena didn't even look up from her gun, her smirk sharp as she checked the magazine. "Oh, you did," she said, her voice dripping with amusement. "You made the mistake all women make when they're horny." She finally glanced at Claire, her dark eyes gleaming. "You pounced on Jack here, trying to rape him."

Claire's face burned crimson. "I didn't—" she started, her voice tight, before catching herself. "I remember. We didn't do anything. He just carried me to the room and—" She froze, realizing she'd just admitted she remembered everything. Her blush deepened, her fingers clenching into fists.

"Nothing happened between us," she snapped, her voice firm but her eyes betraying her. "Don't let your imagination run wild."

Yelena laughed, shaking her head. "Oh, I'm not imagining anything, dorogaya," she said, her tone teasing but her gaze sharp. "I heard you."

Claire's breath hitched, her face flaming. "You—" she started, but then she cut herself off, her jaw clenching. She wasn't going to dignify it with a response. Instead, she turned sharply toward the door, her voice all business. "Let's go," she said, her tone clipped. "We've got bastards to deal with."

Yelena's smirk never faded, but she didn't push further. She just holstered her gun and followed Claire out, leaving me standing there, the weight of the moment still thick in the air. I was about to follow when I felt a sudden shift in the air behind me.

Claire moved fast.

Before I could react, she was behind me, her voice low and urgent. "You will not be coming with us today."

I barely had time to register her words before something hard—probably the butt of her gun—connected with the back of my head. Pain flared, but I didn't fight it. Instead, I let my body go limp, collapsing to the ground with a thud that sounded convincing enough.

Claire's voice was tight, her breath uneven. "I'm sorry," she whispered, her words laced with something raw—regret, maybe, or fear.

I kept my eyes closed, my breathing steady, listening.

Yelena's voice cut through the silence, dry and amused. "Well, well, well," she drawled, her tone dripping with teasing. "Looks like our Agent Claire finally grew a spine." She chuckled, the sound light but edged with something sharper. "Or maybe she just didn't want little Jack to see her in action. Afraid he'd get distracted?"

Claire didn't laugh. "Shut up, Yelena," she snapped, her voice tight.

"Oh, come on," Yelena teased, her voice playful but her words sharp. "You knocked him out, Claire. That's not exactly subtle." She paused, her tone shifting into something more serious. "But you did the right thing. We both know this isn't a safe mission. It's a suicide run."

Claire didn't answer right away. When she did, her voice was quiet, her words careful. "I just..." She hesitated, her breath hitching. "I don't want him to get hurt because of me."

Yelena's smirk was audible in her voice. "Or maybe you just don't want him to see you cry again," she said, her tone light but her words cutting deep. "Because we both know you're terrified of that."

Claire's breath hitched, her voice tight. "I said shut up, Yelena."

Yelena laughed, unfazed. "Fine, fine," she said, her voice still teasing but softer now. "But you're not fooling anyone, dorogaya. You knocked him out because you care." She paused, her tone shifting into something almost gentle. "And that's okay."

Claire didn't answer. I heard the sound of her shifting, her breath uneven.

Yelena's voice dropped into something quieter, something more serious. "Take care of him," Claire said finally, her voice cracking just slightly. "If something happens to me... tell him..." She hesitated, her breath hitching. "Tell him I'm sorry."

Yelena's smirk was audible in her voice. "So our Agent Claire is in love with this little boy?" she teased, her tone light but her words sharp.

Claire didn't deny it. "Yeah," she said, her voice defiant but her tone soft, almost vulnerable. "So what?"

Yelena laughed, the sound warm but edged with something knowing. "Nothing," she said, her voice gentle for once. "Just making sure you're honest with yourself." She paused, her tone shifting into something almost serious. "Because if you're not, solnyshko, you're going to regret it."

Claire didn't answer. The only sound was the faint rustle of her clothes and the steady rhythm of her footsteps as she and Yelena moved away, the door clicking shut behind them with a finality that echoed in the empty warehouse.

I waited a few more seconds, just to be sure, before opening my eyes. A slow smile spread across my lips.

Oh, Claire.

I activated my Invisibility, my body fading from sight as I pushed myself up from the floor. With a flick of my wrist, I used Telekinesis to silently lift the door latch, slipping outside just in time to see Claire and Yelena loading the last of the weapons into the car.

Claire was crouched by the open trunk, her fingers deftly checking the magazines before tucking them into the backseat—for backup, no doubt.

I didn't hesitate.

With another silent pulse of telekinesis, I lifted myself just enough to slip into the backseat unnoticed, settling into the shadows behind the stack of guns. The car's suspension creaked slightly under my weight, but neither of them seemed to notice.

Yelena slid into the driver's seat, her voice dry. "You sure you don't want to leave him a note?" she teased, her fingers drumming against the steering wheel. "Something romantic? Dear Jack, I knocked you out because I love you."

Claire didn't laugh. "Drive, Yelena," she said, her voice tight.

Yelena chuckled, shaking her head as she turned the key in the ignition. "Fine, fine. But if we die today, I'm haunting you first."

The engine roared to life, and the car pulled out of the warehouse, the tires crunching over gravel.

The city lights blurred past the windows as the convoy of black cars surrounded us, their engines humming in unison. Yelena's grip tightened on the steering wheel, her knuckles white, but she didn't reach for her gun. Not yet.

The car in front of us stopped abruptly, and Yelena slammed the brakes, the tires screeching against the asphalt. The door of the lead car swung open, and Polina stepped out first, her expression unreadable, followed by Irene and a handful of Natalya's other associates. And then—her. Natalya emerged, her heels clicking against the pavement with deliberate slowness, her smirk sharp and knowing as she approached Yelena's window.

"Didn't I tell you?" Natalya purred, her voice dripping with amusement as she leaned down, her dark eyes flicking between Yelena and Claire. "I'd help you." Her lips curled into a smirk. "You fools have a death wish, or what?"

Claire's fingers twitched toward the gun in her lap, her voice cold. "What's it to you?"

Natalya's smirk never wavered. "I'm here to help," she said, her tone sweet but edged with something darker. "Whether you like it or not."

Before either of them could protest, she reached for the door handle and slid into the backseat—right next to me.

I didn't move. Didn't breathe.

Natalya glanced out the window, her voice sharp as she barked orders to Polina and the others. "Go ahead. Let them follow." Then she turned her attention back to the car, her gaze lingering on the empty space beside her—where I was sitting.

"I don't let people go," she said, her voice low, her fingers tapping idly against her thigh. "Especially those who try to trick me." Her lips curled into a smirk. "And those Italians? They've got guts, trying to pin their dirty deeds on me."

Claire's voice was a growl. "You're not up to any good either." Her fingers twitched toward her gun. "Once this is over, I'm coming after you."

Natalya laughed, the sound light but edged with something dangerous. "Oh, Agent Claire," she said, her tone mocking. "Always so predictable." She paused, her voice shifting into something almost casual. "Oh! I forgot—where's that fellow Jack? The one who was with you?"

Claire's entire body tensed, her voice sharp with panic. "What did you do to him?"

Natalya waved a hand dismissively. "Nothing, nothing," she said, her tone breezy. "I just asked my people to bring him along. For reassurance, you understand." Her smirk deepened. "If anything happens to me, well... let's just say he won't be fine."

Claire's voice was a snarl. "If anything happens to him, I will end you."

Natalya chuckled, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "Don't worry, dorogaya," she said, her tone mocking. "He'll be fine."

Then, without warning, her hand slid onto my lap—right where I was sitting.

She wasn't surprised.

Not even a little.

Her fingers curled slightly, her voice dropping into a whisper. "I asked SERA to hack Yelena's laptop," she murmured, her gaze flicking toward the front seat. "Saw the whole thing—you getting knocked out, turning invisible, following them." Her lips brushed close to my ear, her voice a velvet purr. "Did you like the surprise, husband?"

I leaned in, my breath warm against her skin. "Yeah," I whispered back, my voice low. "I love it, wife."

Natalya's smirk turned wicked, her voice edged with something almost like jealousy. "If I hadn't come, you might've been captured by Claire," she teased, her fingers tracing slow circles on my thigh. "She's been obsessed with you since the moment she met you." Her voice dropped into something darker. "She would've chained you to her bed if she'd known you were here."

I chuckled, my voice a whisper. "And you? Would you have stopped her?"

Natalya's breath hitched, her fingers tightening just slightly. "Oh, solnyshko," she murmured, her voice a purr. "I would've helped her."

Claire's voice cut through the tension, sharp and suspicious. "Did you say something?" she snapped, her eyes narrowing in the rearview mirror.

Natalya shook her head, her expression innocent. "Nothing," she said, her voice sweet. "Just admiring the scenery."

But her hand didn't move.

Instead, it kept rubbing slow, deliberate circles on my thigh—until my own hand slid up, my fingers finding the curve of her breast beneath her blouse.

Natalya's breath hitched, her face flushing as she felt my touch. But she didn't pull away.

She just smirked.

Natalya's breath was warm against my ear, her voice a velvet whisper that sent a shiver down my spine. "You're dangerous, Jack," she murmured, her fingers still tracing slow, deliberate circles on my thigh, her touch growing bolder with every passing second. "I like that."

I didn't answer with words.

Instead, my hand slid upward, my fingers brushing against the fabric of her blouse, feeling the warmth of her skin beneath. The car hummed around us, the engine a low, steady purr, but neither Claire nor Yelena seemed to notice the tension thickening in the backseat.

Natalya's breath hitched as my fingers found the top button of her blouse, deftly undoing it with a flick of my wrist. The fabric parted, revealing the lace of her bra beneath, the swell of her breasts rising with every shallow breath she took.

Her lips parted, but no sound came out.

My fingers didn't hesitate. They slipped beneath the lace, my palm cupping the weight of her breast, my thumb brushing over her nipple with a slow, deliberate pressure.

Natalya's body tensed, a soft gasp escaping her lips as I rolled the sensitive peak between my fingers, pinching just enough to make her breath catch.

"You're bold," she whispered, her voice trembling just slightly, her back arching into my touch. "I like that too."

I leaned in closer, my breath hot against her neck as my fingers continued their exploration, teasing her nipple until it hardened beneath my touch. "You want this," I murmured, my voice low and rough. "Don't you?"

Natalya's fingers clenched into fists, her nails digging into her palms as she fought to keep her composure. "Yes," she breathed, her voice barely audible. "God, yes."

My other hand joined the first, slipping beneath her bra to palm her other breast, my thumbs working in tandem to roll and pinch her nipples until she was biting her lip to keep from moaning.

The car hit a bump, and her body jolted slightly, pressing her further into my hands. I took advantage of the movement, my fingers tightening just enough to make her gasp, her breath coming in short, sharp bursts.

"You're soaked," I whispered, my voice a dark promise as I felt the heat radiating from her body, the way her skin flushed beneath my touch. "Aren't you?"

Natalya's breath hitched, her body trembling as my fingers continued their relentless assault, pinching and rolling her nipples until she was squirming in her seat. "Jack—" she started, her voice a desperate whisper, but I cut her off with a sharp tweak of her nipple that made her bite back a moan.

"Quiet," I murmured, my voice a command. "Unless you want Claire to know exactly what I'm doing to you."

Natalya's eyes fluttered closed, her body arching into my hands as I pinched her nipples harder, the pleasure-pain making her breath come in ragged gasps. "Fuck," she breathed, her voice trembling. "You're killing me."

I chuckled darkly, my fingers never stopping their torment. "Oh, wife," I whispered, my voice a velvet threat. "We're just getting started."

Her body shuddered, her nipples hardening further beneath my touch, her breath coming in short, desperate pants. "Jack—" she started again, but her words dissolved into a soft whimper as I pinched her nipples one last time, hard enough to make her body jerk.

"Good girl," I murmured, my voice a dark caress. "Now sit still… and behave."

Natalya's breath was ragged, her body trembling as she tried to regain her composure. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips parted, her dark eyes glazed with desire. She didn't move. Didn't speak. She just sat there, her body thrumming with the aftershocks of my touch, her fingers clenched into fists in her lap.

Then, suddenly, the car jolted to a stop.

We'd arrived.

I pulled my hand back, my touch leaving her skin with a final, lingering brush of my fingers. Natalya's breath hitched, her body tensing as reality crashed back in around her. The moment was over—for now.

Yelena glanced back from the front seat, her sharp eyes taking in Natalya's flushed face, her disheveled blouse, the way her fingers trembled as she tried to button it back up. "Are you nervous?" Yelena teased, her voice dripping with amusement. "I didn't expect the famous Queen Natalya to be nervous."

Natalya's eyes flashed, her voice sharp as she regained her composure. "Your mother is nervous," she snapped, her tone laced with venom as she pushed open the car door and stepped out.

I followed, the cool night air hitting my skin as I emerged from the vehicle. The mansion loomed ahead of us, its dark windows like empty eyes watching our approach. The Italians were here—somewhere inside—and they weren't expecting us.

Not yet.

Natalya adjusted her blouse with a final, sharp tug, her expression shifting back into that familiar mask of cold confidence. "Let's move," she said, her voice all business now, her gaze sweeping over the property. "Polina, Irene—take the back. Yelena, Claire, you're with me."

Yelena smirked, her gun already drawn. "Finally, some action."

Claire didn't speak. She just nodded, her fingers tightening around her own weapon, her eyes scanning the shadows ahead.

I stayed close, my invisibility still active, my presence unseen but undeniable.

The villa loomed ahead, its high walls and darkened windows hiding the danger within. Guards patrolled the perimeter, their voices low and alert, their hands resting on their weapons. The sudden arrival of Natalya's convoy hadn't gone unnoticed—eyes darted toward the cars, fingers tightening on triggers. The air was thick with tension, the kind that precedes a storm.

Natalya didn't hesitate. She sent her people forward first, a wave of armed figures fanning out to take the lead. Polina and Irene moved behind us, their guns drawn, their expressions cold and focused.

Yelena, Claire, and Natalya walked together, a united front of lethal intent. Irene took point, her steps silent as she led us closer to the villa's entrance.

Then—gunfire.

The first shots rang out, shattering the silence. Claire, Natalya, and the others reacted instantly, diving for cover as bullets whizzed past. I stayed close, my invisibility still active, my presence unseen but undeniable.

With a flick of my will, I used telekinesis to stop any bullet that came too close to them, deflecting the deadly projectiles before they could find their marks.

But as the chaos unfolded, a thought struck me—how could I win over Claire if I stayed hidden? How could I prove myself to her, to Yelena, if I remained nothing more than a ghost in the shadows?

The gunfire was relentless, bullets whizzing through the air like a storm of metal. Claire, Yelena, and Natalya moved as a unit, their guns flashing in the dim light, their expressions locked in deadly focus.

I could see the tension in Claire's shoulders, the way her fingers gripped her weapon just a little too tightly—she was worried. Not just about the mission, but about us. About me.

I wasn't about to let that fear become reality.

With a thought, I pulled up the SUDIX Store, my mind racing through the options. I needed more than just my own power—I needed reinforcements. Shadow guards. Silent, lethal, and invisible until the moment they struck. I purchased a dozen of them, their dark forms materializing in the periphery of my vision like ghosts given purpose.

I assigned them swiftly—two to Claire, two to Yelena, two to Natalya, and the rest to Polina, Irene, and the others. Even if they deserved protection, especially when they were fighting for us. Especially when they were beautiful.

A smirk tugged at my lips as I felt the shadow guards slip into place, their presence unseen but felt—a whisper of darkness clinging to each of them like a second skin.

"Stay hidden," I commanded silently, my voice a mental whisper only they could hear. "Protect them. But don't show yourselves unless it's necessary."

I stayed behind, watching as the team disappeared into the dark maw of the villa. The air was thick with the acrid scent of gunpowder and the distant echo of gunfire. I leaned back in the car, pulling out my phone and activating SERA.

"Show me the live feed inside the building," I commanded, my voice low.

The screen flickered to life, displaying a split view of the interior. Natalya and Claire moved to the left with Irene, their path relatively clear, their steps unhurried. They didn't encounter much resistance—just a few scattered guards who were quickly dispatched.

But Yelena and Polina?

They were in trouble.

I watched as they were forced to the right, their progress halted by a barrage of gunfire. The enemy was relentless, their bullets a storm of lead and fire. Grenades rolled across the floor, explosions rocking the corridor, sending debris flying.

Yelena and Polina were cornered, their ammunition running dangerously low. I saw the way Yelena's jaw clenched as she ducked behind a crumbling pillar, her gun clicking empty. Polina was in a similar state, her breath ragged as she pressed her back against the wall, her fingers fumbling for a fresh magazine that wasn't there.

And then I saw it—the enemy closing in from the other side, their weapons raised, their voices low and triumphant. Yelena and Polina were about to be caught in a crossfire, trapped with no way out.

Enough.

I deactivated my Invisibility, my form materializing in the backseat of the car. With a surge of power, I grabbed a gun from the seat beside me and kicked open the car door. Telekinesis flared beneath me, lifting me into the air as I shot forward like a bullet, the wind whipping around me as I soared toward the villa.

The entrance was a chaos of broken wood and shattered glass, but I didn't slow down. I crashed through what remained of the door, my boots hitting the ground with a force that sent cracks spiderwebbing through the marble floor. The enemy turned at the sound, their eyes widening as they saw me—alive, armed, and furious.

The entrance was a chaos of broken wood and shattered glass, but I didn't slow down. I crashed through what remained of the door, my boots hitting the ground with a force that sent cracks spiderwebbing through the marble floor. The enemy turned at the sound, their eyes widening as they saw me—alive, armed, and furious.

I didn't hesitate.

I started firing, my shots precise and deadly. Headshot after headshot, the enemies dropped like puppets with cut strings. The gunfire echoed through the villa, the sound sharp and final.

From behind a pillar, Yelena and Polina peeked out, their eyes wide as they took in the scene. Yelena's voice cut through the chaos, sharp and disbelieving. "Jack! What the hell are you doing here?"

I didn't look at her, my focus still on the remaining threats. "Saving you," I said, my voice calm but edged with something darker.

Yelena's expression was a mix of shock and irritation. "It was dangerous for you to do that, do you know that?" she snapped, her voice tight. "And how the fuck did you even get here?"

I finally turned to her, my smirk sharp. "I came with you guys."

Yelena's eyes narrowed. "With us?!"

I shrugged, making up an excuse on the spot. "Well... Claire didn't use much force when she knocked me out," I said, my tone casual. "So I pretended to faint and followed you by getting inside the trunk of the car."

Yelena's jaw dropped slightly, her expression a mix of disbelief and amusement. "Claire is gonna kill you if she finds out you're here," she said, her voice half-warning, half-teasing.

Polina, ever the pragmatist, didn't waste time on words. She quickly picked up guns from the fallen enemies and handed one to Yelena. "Here," she said, her voice all business. "We're not out of this yet."

Yelena checked the gun, her expression shifting back into something fiercer. "Stay between Polina and me," she ordered, her voice leaving no room for argument. "You got it? No more playing hero."

I nodded, moving to position myself between them. "Got it."

With this side of the villa cleared, the distant sound of gunfire from the other side reached our ears. We moved toward it, our steps quick and silent.

When we reached the source, we found Natalya and Claire standing over a pile of fallen enemies, their guns still smoking. Irene, Alisa, and Diana were with them, their movements professional and efficient. They didn't need help—they were experts, after all.

The first floor of the villa was eerily quiet after the gunfire, the air thick with the scent of gunpowder and blood. Yelena turned to Polina, her voice sharp and commanding. "Let's go down," she said, her eyes scanning the area. "You take the left stairs. I'll take the right."

Polina nodded, her grip tightening on her gun as she moved toward the left staircase. Yelena glanced back at me, her expression unreadable but her eyes burning with intensity. "Jack, you're with me," she said, her voice firm.

I followed behind her, my gaze flicking to the sway of her hips as she moved with predatory grace. The tension was thick, the silence heavy—until the sudden thrum of rotor blades shattered it.

The helicopter touched down on the rooftop, its presence drawing everyone's attention. Polina waved the others—Natalya, Claire, Irene, Alisa, and Diana—toward the stairs leading up, their steps quick and urgent.

Yelena's voice was a growl, her eyes narrowing as she watched the helicopter. "They're escaping."

I activated my AI Lens, the details of the man stepping out of the helicopter flashing before my eyes—Bruno Di Costa, the head of the Italian Mafia, the architect of all this chaos. His smirk was smug, his fingers toying with a small remote in his hand.

Claire suddenly turned toward me, her expression a storm of fury and fear. "What the fuck are you doing here?" she snapped, her hand flying up to slap me across the face. "Don't you know it's dangerous?"

I didn't flinch. Instead, I reached up, my fingers brushing the spot where her hand had struck. "I know it's dangerous," I said, my voice low but firm. "That's why I need to be here."

Claire's face flushed, her breath hitching as Polina's words echoed in her mind—she remembered. The confession she'd made after knocking me out, the raw vulnerability of it. She blushed, her fingers clenching into fists, her eyes darting away.

Bruno's voice cut through the tension, his accent thick and mocking. "Goodbye, my friends," he called, his finger pressing a button on the remote.

Natalya's men rushed forward, their voices urgent. "Boss! The entire building is wired with explosives! He must've triggered the detonation—we need to leave now!"

Yelena's eyes locked onto mine, her voice a snarl. "Claire, take Jack and get out of here," she ordered, her grip tightening on her gun. "I'm going after that motherfucker. We can't let him get away—if he leaves, we'll never find him again."

Claire shook her head, her voice desperate. "No! I'm not leaving without you! We'll get him later—"

Yelena didn't wait. She turned, her boot kicking the door shut behind her, locking herself inside with Bruno. Claire whirled around, her voice breaking. "You crazy bitch—what the fuck are you doing?!" She pounded on the door, her fists slamming against the metal. "Yelena, open this door!"

Yelena didn't look back. Instead, her gaze locked onto me through the small window in the door, her voice low and urgent. "Jack, take care of her," she said, her eyes burning with intensity. "I can't live like this—always a target. Let me end this once and for all." Her voice softened, just for a second. "And Claire... leave the job. Be with Jack. Don't be stubborn."

Claire's voice was a scream, her eyes filling with tears. "You crazy bitch—come back!"

I didn't hesitate.

I stepped forward, my hand striking Claire's temple with precise force. She crumpled, unconscious, into my arms. I turned to Natalya, my voice firm. "Take care of her, wife."

Natalya didn't question me. She nodded, her expression serious as she took Claire from my arms. "Polina, get everyone out. Now," she ordered, her voice leaving no room for argument.

Polina's eyes flicked to me, her voice urgent. "Where are you going? We need to get out of here—"

I met Natalya's gaze, my voice steady. "Take everyone. Go. Don't worry about me."

The villa was a storm of fire and collapsing debris, the air thick with smoke and the acrid scent of burning metal. I flew forward using telekinesis, my body shielded by an invisible barrier as I crashed through the shattered remains of the door.

The helicopter was already lifting off, its rotors slicing through the air, but I didn't let it escape. With a surge of power, I stopped the blades mid-spin, sending the aircraft crashing back down onto the villa in a deafening explosion of fire and twisted metal.

But my focus wasn't on the wreckage.

It was on her.

Yelena was climbing the stairs toward the helipad, her movements desperate, her gun gripped tightly in her hand. But the explosions had already begun.

The staircase beneath her groaned, then splintered, the concrete and steel giving way under the force of the blasts. She was trapped in the corner, her back pressed against the crumbling wall, her eyes wide with shock and fury.

"Sister Yelena!" I called out, my voice cutting through the chaos.

She jerked at the sound, her voice a snarl. "Jack?! What the fuck are you doing here?! Get out now! Where is that bitch Natalya? How did she let you come here—?"

She couldn't see me—not yet—but my AI Lens pierced through the smoke and debris, showing me her exact location. The fire roared around her, the heat intense, but she stood her ground, her gun still gripped tightly in her hand, her knuckles white.

"Jack, please—" Her voice cracked, raw with desperation. "Leave here while you can!"

I smirked, my voice steady despite the chaos. "I'm not leaving without you."

"You'll die here!" she snapped, her voice breaking. "Get out of here! Claire is still waiting for you out there! That bitch will kill me if something happens to you! So please—"

I chuckled, my voice low but firm. "This is the best way to win a beauty's heart, you know. How could I leave?"

She let out a frustrated growl. "You fool—don't you know how Claire feels about you? Get out of here! You have Claire and others who care about you! I have no one—"

My voice turned sharp, my patience wearing thin. "You have no one?" I repeated, my voice rising. "What about Claire? What about me? Do we not matter?"

She didn't answer. She didn't have to.

I reached out with my telekinesis, carefully moving the smaller pieces of debris away from her. "Stay back. I'm going to clear this out."

The staircase was a mess of broken concrete and twisted rebar, the structure groaning under its own weight. I focused my power, my muscles straining as I tore the largest piece of the broken staircase away, creating a path for her. The effort sent a shockwave of dust and debris flying, but when it settled, I saw her—her eyes red with tears, her face streaked with soot and blood, her chest heaving with ragged breaths.

"You're really a fool, you know that?" she yelled, her voice trembling.

I pushed harder, my telekinesis straining as I moved the last of the debris. But as I did, the floor above us groaned—a deep, ominous sound—then collapsed.

Yelena looked up just in time, her eyes widening in horror.

I didn't hesitate.

I lunged forward, grabbing her hand and yanking her toward me. Her body crashed into mine, her chest pressing against me as she let out a surprised moan—"Aaaah—!"

We both fell back as the floor above us crashed down, the impact sending a cloud of dust and debris billowing around us. I wrapped my arms around her, shielding her as I stood up, my telekinesis already propelling us backward.

The villa was filling with smoke, the air thick and suffocating. Yelena started coughing, her body trembling against mine. I didn't stop. I ran toward the large window, my telekinesis shattering the glass as I leapt through, taking the brunt of the impact as we hit the ground.

Yelena was in shock, her breath ragged as she looked up at me. "You—you're okay?"

I nodded, my chest heaving.

She let out a shaky breath. "Great."

Then, without warning, my hand flew out and slapped her ass—hard.

"Aaah—!" she yelped, her body jolting.

I did it again, my voice sharp. "You really have a death wish, don't you?" I growled. "How can you say you have no one who worries about you?"

Yelena's eyes locked onto mine, her expression unreadable. Then, suddenly, she leaned in and kissed me—her lips crashing against mine with a desperation that stole my breath. She pulled back just as quickly, her chest heaving, her voice a ragged whisper.

"Don't think too much..." she panted. "It's just a thank you... from your sister."

I was stunned.

Her eyes... they held the same look as the others—Julie, Natalya—that raw, unguarded emotion. I checked her favorability—100.

Fuck.

This was the first time I'd made someone's favorability reach 100... without even having sex with her.

And Yelena?

She was mine.

But before I could say anything, she pushed away from me, her expression shifting back into that familiar smirk. "Don't get ideas, bratik," she said, her voice teasing but her eyes still burning with something deeper. "I'm still your sister."

I grinned, my hand reaching out to ruffle her hair. "Oh, sister," I said, my voice low. "You're so much more than that."

She rolled her eyes, but she didn't pull away.

And I wasn't letting her go.

Yelena grabbed my hand, yanking me up from the ground with more force than necessary, her grip tight as if she were afraid I'd disappear if she let go. The villa behind us was a roaring inferno, the heat still licking at our backs, but my attention was stolen by the frantic figure sprinting toward us—Claire.

She didn't slow down. She didn't hesitate.

She crashed into me, her hands flying to my face, my shoulders, my chest, as if she needed to physically confirm I was still in one piece. "You're fine," she breathed, her voice raw with relief, her fingers trembling as they traced over my arms, my chest, searching for wounds. "You're really fine? Is nothing broken? No bullets? No—"

I caught her wrists gently, my smirk softening as I looked down at her. "I'm fine, Claire," I said, my voice low, reassuring. "Nothing happened to me. I promise."

Her relief lasted exactly one second.

Then her hand flew up and cracked across my face—so hard my head snapped to the side, the sting radiating through my cheek.

"You BASTARD!" she screamed, her voice breaking, her eyes burning with a mix of fury and terror. "Do you have any idea what it was like out here?! Not knowing if you were alive?! If you were bleeding?! If you were—" Her breath hitched, her fingers clenching into fists at her sides. "I thought I lost you! I thought—"

Her voice cracked, and for a second, she looked like she might collapse. But then the anger flared again, her eyes blazing. "How dare you?! How dare you just run in there like some—some reckless idiot?! You could've died! You could've been—" She cut herself off with a shuddering breath, her hands flying to her face as if she could erase the images her mind had conjured. "I can't—I can't lose you, too."

Yelena stepped forward, her voice sharp with annoyance. "Claire, what the hell?" She reached up, her fingers brushing over the red mark on my cheek where Claire had struck me. "He's fine, you psycho. Stop hitting him."

Claire whirled on her, tears streaming down her face, her voice a snarl. "Oh, shut up, Yelena! This is your fault! If you hadn't locked yourself in there like some suicidal maniac—"

"I had it under control!" Yelena snapped, her own temper flaring.

"Under control?!" Claire's voice was a scream. "You were trapped! The whole building was collapsing! And Jack—stupid, reckless Jack—just ran in after you like—" She cut herself off, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she turned back to me, her hands gripping my shirt so tightly her knuckles turned white.

"You promise me," she demanded, her voice shaking. "You promise me you won't ever do something like that again. Not for her, not for anyone."

I didn't answer right away. Instead, I reached up, brushing a thumb over her cheek, wiping away the tears. "I can't make that promise," I said quietly.

Her eyes widened, her voice breaking. "Jack—"

"Because if it's you in there," I continued, my voice firm, "I'd do it again in a heartbeat."

She let out a choked sob, her forehead pressing against my chest. "You're impossible," she whispered, her voice muffled.

Yelena rolled her eyes so hard it looked like she might strain something, throwing her hands up in exaggerated frustration. "Oh, spare me," she groaned, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "No one cares about me anymore. The second you two lock eyes, I might as well be a ghost." She crossed her arms, her smirk sharp but her eyes flickering with something unreadable—annoyance, maybe, or something deeper.

Claire's patience, already frayed from the battle and the fear of losing me, snapped like a wire. "Shut up, you bitch!" she hissed, her voice trembling with frustration. "Not everything is about you, Yelena!"

Yelena's smirk only deepened, her voice teasing. "Oh, really? Because it sure feels like it when you two start your little love fest in the middle of a warzone."

Claire's face flushed, her fingers clenching into fists. "You—!"

I glanced at Claire's favorability—95. High, but not perfect. Not yet. Claire was different from Yelena. She had two daughters, a past, and responsibilities. She wasn't just a warrior—she was a mother. And that made her confession all the more unexpected.

She turned to me, her eyes wide and vulnerable, her voice trembling. "Jack..." she started, her fingers twisting in the fabric of my shirt. "I love you..." The words tumbled out, raw and unguarded, like she'd been holding them back for too long. "Can you... Be my boyfriend?"

I blinked, stunned by the sudden confession. Claire had never been one to wear her heart on her sleeve. She was fierce, controlled, and dangerous. And yet, here she was, asking me like this—begging, almost.

She saw my hesitation, and her face fell, disappointment flashing in her eyes. "That..." she stuttered, her voice breaking. "I'm sorry... I shouldn't have just—"

I didn't let her finish.

I pulled her into my arms, my hand cradling the back of her head as I kissed her—deep, possessive, hungry. When I pulled back, her lips were parted, her breath ragged, her big, watery eyes locked onto mine.

"I love you, Agent Claire," I said, my voice low and certain.

Her breath hitched, her fingers tightening around my shirt. "You... mean it?" she whispered, her voice trembling.

I smirked, my thumb brushing over her lower lip. "I don't say things I don't mean."

She let out a shaky laugh, her forehead resting against mine. "Then... I'm yours."

Yelena, who had been watching the exchange with a mix of annoyance and amusement, let out a dramatic sigh. "Ugh, finally," she muttered, rolling her eyes. "Now, can we please get out of here before the whole place collapses on our lovestruck heads?" She stepped closer, her smirk sharp. "Or do I need to throw a bucket of water on you two to snap you out of it?"

Claire ignored her, her eyes never leaving mine. "Jack..." she whispered, her voice soft but fierce. "I'm not letting you go."

Yelena scoffed, crossing her arms. "Oh, please. You two are insufferable." She leaned in, her voice dripping with teasing. "Claire, dorogaya, if you're going to be this love-struck, at least have the decency to not do it in the middle of a burning building."

Claire finally tore her gaze away from me, her eyes narrowing at Yelena. "Oh, shut up, Yelena! You're just jealous because no one's ever looked at you the way Jack looks at me!"

Natalya and the others were already there, leaning against the vehicles with the kind of exhausted satisfaction that comes after a battle well fought. Claire's grip on my hand was almost painfully tight, her knuckles white as she turned to Natalya, her voice low but laced with an unmistakable edge.

"I'll let you go today," Claire said, her gaze locked onto Natalya, her tone carrying a quiet threat. "But next time we meet... it won't be easy."

Natalya let out a low, knowing chuckle, her eyes gleaming with amusement. I understood why—she knew, just as I did, that it wouldn't be long before Claire would be lying between us, her body tangled with ours in the kind of intimacy that left no room for secrets. The thought sent a thrill through me, but I kept my expression carefully neutral, my fingers tightening around Claire's.

"Hee... I guess we'll find out," Natalya purred, her smirk sharp and teasing. "Once we meet again."

She turned to Polina and the others, her voice all business now. "Let's go." The group moved without question, though I caught the way Polina and the others glanced at me, their expressions curious, almost wary. Natalya hadn't revealed my identity to them—they still thought I was Viper, some undercover operative sent to deal with Claire or the FBI. For now, that was fine. Let them wonder. Let them assume. It only made things easier.

Yelena slid into the driver's seat, but Claire didn't hesitate. She pushed me into the backseat before climbing in after me, her body pressing close to mine as she shut the door. "Let's get out of here before the police show up," she said, her voice firm, leaving no room for argument.

Yelena scoffed, glancing back at us through the rearview mirror. "I'm not your driver," she muttered, her tone dry. "Come sit in front."

Claire didn't move an inch. "What's the problem?" she shot back, her voice sharp. "I'm sitting with my boyfriend. Just drive. It's the least you can do after the stunt you pulled back there."

Yelena's jaw clenched, her fingers tightening on the steering wheel. For a second, I thought she might argue, but then she just shook her head and turned the key in the ignition. The engine roared to life, and she shifted into gear, peeling out of the area with a speed that pressed Claire and me back into the seat.

Claire's fingers laced through mine, her grip tight, almost desperate. "Yelena, instead of going to the safe house, let's go to a motel," she said, her voice calm but firm. "The safe house might be compromised."

Yelena didn't argue. She just nodded, her eyes flicking to the rearview mirror again. "Fine by me."

Claire turned to me, her voice softer now, but her fingers still trembling slightly. "We'll go back tomorrow by flight," she said, her voice steady, though I could hear the undercurrent of nerves. "And I'll quit my job."

I didn't respond right away. Instead, I squeezed her hand, my thumb brushing over her knuckles in slow, reassuring circles. She took a deep breath, her voice suddenly nervous, almost vulnerable.

"That... Jack..." she started, her fingers tightening around mine. "I... have two daughters. They're 14 years old."

I could hear the hesitation in her voice, the fear that this might change something. That I might change my mind. That the reality of her life—her responsibilities, her past—might be too much.

But it wasn't.

I turned to her, my voice firm and certain, my free hand reaching up to cup her cheek. "They're not your daughters," I said, my thumb brushing over her skin. "They're our daughters."

Claire's breath hitched, her eyes widening in shock. For a second, she just stared at me, her lips parted, her grip on my hand trembling. Then, slowly, a smile spread across her face, her voice trembling with emotion. "Jack..." she whispered, her eyes glistening.

I leaned in, pressing a kiss to her forehead, my lips lingering against her skin. "I mean it," I murmured, my voice low and steady.

Yelena, who had been listening to the exchange, let out a dramatic sigh from the front seat. "Ugh, you two are disgusting," she muttered, though there was no real bite in her voice. "Can we please focus on not getting arrested right now?"

Claire ignored her, her eyes never leaving mine. "Jack..." she whispered again, her voice filled with something raw and real, something that made my chest tighten. "I love you."

I smiled, pulling her closer, my arm wrapping around her shoulders. "I love you too, Agent Claire," I said, my voice soft but certain.

She leaned into me, her head resting against my shoulder, her breath steadying. For a moment, there was silence in the car, the only sound the hum of the engine and the distant wail of sirens fading into the night.

Then, quietly, Claire spoke again, her voice barely above a whisper. "They're good kids," she said, her fingers tightening around mine. "Smart. Strong. They've been through a lot..."

I pressed another kiss to her temple, my voice gentle. "We'll make sure they're taken care of," I said. "All of us."

Claire let out a shaky breath, her body relaxing against mine, her grip on my hand loosening just slightly. "Jack..." she whispered, her voice filled with something like wonder, like she still couldn't believe this was real. "I never thought I'd have this."

I smiled, my hand squeezing hers, my thumb brushing over her knuckles. "You do now."

Yelena, who had been driving with increasing irritation at our "dog feeding" —as she put it—finally slammed the car to a stop in front of a run-down motel. She had booked only one room, her voice sharp as she tossed the key onto the dashboard. "Easier to protect everyone this way," she muttered, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Claire didn't question it. She just nodded, her mind already elsewhere.

As we stepped into the dimly lit motel room, the weight of the night settled over us—the smoke, the gunfire, the confessions. Claire barely glanced around before turning toward the bathroom. "I'm going to take a shower," she said, her voice quiet, and disappeared behind the door, the sound of the water turning on soon after.

I sat down on the edge of the bed, the springs groaning under my weight.

The motel room was dim, the flickering neon sign outside casting a pale glow through the thin curtains. Claire had already disappeared into the bathroom, the sound of the shower running a steady hum in the background.

Yelena stood by the window, her arms wrapped tightly around herself, her back to me. The tension in her shoulders was unmistakable, her fingers digging into her own arms like she was trying to hold herself together.

I walked up behind her, my hands settling on her shoulders, feeling the way her body tensed at my touch. "Sister Yelena," I murmured, my voice low, pulling her back against my chest. "Are you jealous?"

She tried to push me away, but there was no real strength behind it. "Why would I be jealous?" she muttered, her voice muffled, her head dropping forward. "Who are you to me? What does it matter?"

But then her voice cracked, her body trembling just slightly. "You'll leave," she whispered, her words barely audible, her fingers clenching into fists.

"You'll leave, and I'll be alone again. Just like always." A tear slipped free, rolling down her cheek, followed by another. "I don't—I can't—" Her breath hitched, her voice breaking. "I don't know how to not be alone."

I turned her around, my hands cupping her face, forcing her to look at me. Her eyes were glistening, her lashes wet, her expression raw with a pain she rarely let anyone see. "You won't be alone," I said, my voice firm, my thumbs brushing away her tears. "Not anymore."

She shook her head, her voice trembling. "You don't understand," she whispered. "People always leave. They promise they won't, but they do. They always do." Her fingers gripped my wrists, her grip almost desperate. "I can't—I can't go through that again."

I didn't let her look away. "I'm not them," I said, my voice steady, unyielding. "I'm not leaving you. Ever."

Yelena let out a shaky breath, another tear rolling down her cheek. "You say that now," she whispered, her voice breaking. "But what happens when Claire needs you? When does the job call you away? When life gets in the way?" She swallowed hard, her eyes searching mine. "What happens when you realize I'm too much? That I'm broken?"

I pulled her closer, my forehead pressing against hers. "Then I'll fix you," I said, my voice a dark promise. "Every damn time."

She let out a choked laugh, her fingers tightening around my wrists. "You can't fix me, Jack," she whispered. "No one can."

"Watch me," I growled, my hand sliding to the back of her neck, my grip firm.

She closed her eyes, her breath hitching. "You'll get tired of me," she murmured. "You'll see how messy I am. How complicated. And you'll leave, just like everyone else."

I slapped her ass—hard—the sound sharp in the quiet room. "Stop," I commanded, my voice low and dangerous. "I'm not leaving. I'm not getting tired. And I sure as hell am not like everyone else."

Yelena's breath hitched, her body jolting at the sting, her eyes flying open. "You hit me," she whispered, her voice trembling, but there was something else there—something raw, something needy.

"I'll do it again if you keep talking like that," I said, my voice a growl. "You're mine, Yelena. And I don't abandon what's mine."

She stared at me, her lips parting, her breath coming faster. "Jack..." she whispered, her voice breaking.

I slapped her ass again, harder this time, my hand lingering, squeezing. "You're not alone," I said, my voice a dark vow. "You're never going to be alone again."

Yelena's eyes burned into mine, her tears still falling, but her expression was shifting—from fear to something fiercer. "You promise?" she demanded, her voice trembling.

"I promise," I said, my voice unshakable.

She let out a shaky breath, her body sagging against mine, her forehead resting against my chest. "I don't know how to do this," she admitted, her voice quiet. "I don't know how to need someone."

I wrapped my arms around her, holding her tight. "You don't have to know," I murmured. "You just have to let me."

Yelena stood there, her breath shaky, her fingers twisting in the fabric of my shirt as if she were trying to anchor herself to something real. The dim motel light cast shadows across her face, highlighting the conflict in her eyes. "What if I can't?" she whispered again, her voice trembling with vulnerability.

I tilted her chin up, forcing her to meet my gaze. My voice was firm, unyielding. "Then I'll make you."

She shook her head, her expression twisting with guilt and fear. "What about Claire?" she asked, her voice breaking slightly. "Are you gonna leave her? No, we can't do this... I can't betray Claire like that." Her fingers clenched tighter, her knuckles turning white.

I didn't hesitate.

My hand came down hard on her ass, the sharp smack echoing through the room. Yelena let out a surprised "Aaaah~!", her body jolting forward before she quickly reached back to rub the stinging spot, her lips forming a pout. "What the—?"

I growled, my voice low and firm, my grip tightening on her waist. "You will be my woman. Just like Claire."

Yelena's breath hitched, her cheeks flushing as she rubbed her ass, her pout deepening. "Are you going to betray Claire?" she snapped, her eyes flashing with hurt and anger, though her voice wavered. "I didn't expect you to be a scumbag."

I slapped her ass again, harder this time, the sound sharp and clear. Yelena let out another moan, "Nn~! Why are you hitting me?" she pouted, her fingers rubbing the spot as she bit her lower lip, her eyes watering slightly.

I cupped her face, forcing her to look at me. "I am not a scumbag," I said, my voice steady and sure. "I take care of each of my women... and you both are my women who will live together with me now."

Yelena's eyes widened in shock, her hand freezing mid-rub on her ass. "What?" she breathed, her voice barely more than a whisper, her mind clearly struggling to process my words. Her pout remained, but her eyes searched mine, a mix of disbelief and something raw and hopeful flickering within them.

I pulled her closer, my hand gently cupping her face. "You heard me," I said, my voice a dark promise, my thumb brushing over her lower lip. "You and Claire. Both of you. Together. With me."

Yelena's breath came in short gasps, her fingers finally dropping from her ass as she stared at me.

Yelena's fingers traced the spot where I'd slapped her, her cheeks still flushed as she looked up at me with a mix of defiance and curiosity. "How can you be so domineering like that..." she murmured, her voice trailing off as her eyes locked onto mine, searching for an answer.

I didn't hesitate.

I grabbed the back of her neck, pulling her close, and kissed her pouting lips hard, catching her off guard. She gasped against my mouth, her body stiffening in surprise before melting into me. I could feel the heat of her breath, the way her lips parted slightly as I deepened the kiss, my hand tangling in her hair.

When I finally pulled back, her eyes were wide, her lips slightly swollen, her breath coming in fast, ragged gasps. "Like this," I said, my voice low and rough, my thumb brushing over her lower lip.

Yelena's heartbeat thrummed wildly beneath my palm, her chest rising and falling with quick, uneven breaths. Her lips remained slightly parted, her gaze locked onto mine with an intensity that made the air between us feel electric. She didn't speak at first, her fingers still lightly touching her lips as if she could still feel the pressure of my kiss.

"I... I don't know how to face Claire..." she finally whispered, her voice trembling with uncertainty. The vulnerability in her eyes was something I rarely saw, and it made my chest tighten.

I cupped her face gently, my thumb brushing over her cheekbone. "Leave everything to me... okay? I will handle it," I assured her, my voice steady and firm.

Yelena nodded slowly, her expression softening just a bit, though her cheeks remained flushed. "Okay..." she murmured, her voice barely audible.

Just then, the sound of the shower stopped, the sudden silence making it clear that Claire was about to step out of the bathroom. Yelena's eyes widened slightly, and she quickly pushed away from me, her face turning an even deeper shade of red. She took a step back, her fingers nervously smoothing down her clothes as if trying to compose herself.

I watched her with amusement, my lips curling into a smirk. "Relax," I murmured, my voice low enough that only she could hear. "Everything will be fine."

Yelena didn't respond, but I could see the tension in her shoulders, the way her fingers fidgeted at her sides.

The bathroom door creaked open, and Claire stepped out, the towel wrapped around her body clinging to her curves in a way that made it impossible to look away. Her damp hair clung to her shoulders, and the deep cleavage on display was impossible to ignore—almost as if she wanted me to notice.

My eyes flicked up to meet hers, and I saw the faint blush on her cheeks, the way her gaze lingered on me just a second too long.

Yelena's fingers twitched at her sides, her jaw tightening as she took in the scene. "Claire..." she said, her voice sharp with irritation, "aren't you too shameless? I'm still here."

Claire's blush deepened, but she didn't look away from me. Instead, she tilted her chin up, a defiant glint in her eyes. "What?" she said, her voice soft but firm. "I'm with my boyfriend. What's it to you?"

Yelena's expression darkened, her fingers curling into fists. I could see it—the jealousy burning in her eyes, the frustration of being the hidden one while Claire stood there so openly, so confidently claiming me. She wanted that. She wanted to be the one draped in a towel, the one I couldn't take my eyes off of.

Yelena's voice was tight, her emotions barely contained as she muttered, "I'm going to take a shower," before turning sharply and striding toward the bathroom.

The door clicked shut behind her, but not before I noticed the way her shoulders tensed, the way her fingers dug into her palms—like she was fighting to keep herself from saying something more.

Claire stood there in the dimly lit motel room, her fingers nervously fidgeting with the hem of the oversized shirt she had just pulled on. The fabric clung to her curves in a way that made it impossible to look away, but she still seemed self-conscious, her cheeks flushed pink as she glanced up at me through her lashes.

"Jack..." she whispered, her voice barely above a breath. "Can you... Can you turn around for a second?"

I raised an eyebrow, my lips curling into a smirk. "Why?" I asked, my voice low and teasing. "You think I haven't seen you before?"

Claire's blush deepened, her fingers twisting in the fabric of her shirt. "I know, but..." she hesitated, her voice trembling slightly. "It's different now. I just... I want to make sure I look okay."

I chuckled, but I didn't move. Instead, I stepped closer, my hands finding her waist, my thumbs brushing against the soft fabric of her shirt. "You always look more than okay," I murmured, my voice rough with sincerity. "You're beautiful, Claire. Every single part of you."

She bit her lip, her eyes flickering away for a moment before meeting mine again. "But I'm older," she said, her voice filled with a vulnerability that made my chest tighten. "I'm not like the others. I have stretch marks, and—"

I cut her off with a finger pressed gently against her lips. "Claire," I said, my voice firm but soft. "Look at me."

She obeyed, her gaze lifting to meet mine, her breath hitching slightly.

"You're perfect," I said, my voice leaving no room for argument. "Every scar, every mark, every single thing about you—it's all part of what makes you you. And I love you."

Claire's eyes welled up with tears, her lips trembling. "Jack..." she whispered, her voice breaking.

I pulled her into my arms, my hand cradling the back of her head as I pressed a kiss to her temple. "You don't ever have to hide from me," I murmured against her skin. "Not your body, not your age, not anything."