The city was a glowing sprawl beneath my penthouse windows, its chaos held at bay by glass and altitude. I leaned against the cold frame, fingers wrapped around a half-empty tumbler of scotch, the burner phone sitting idle on the table beside me.
Then it lit up.
One message.
Naomi: Thank you.
A slow smile curved my lips. I'd been waiting for this.
I picked up the phone and typed back: Me: Hope you find it useful?
Barely a pause before her reply came in: Naomi: Tremendously. But I have an update on my end. Can we meet?
My pulse kicked. Sooner than I expected. But I couldn't wait to see her again.
Me: The Grafton Hotel. Room 1901. Private suite. I'll be waiting.
I booked it under one of my aliases. Sent her the access code to the elevator. She didn't reply. She didn't have to.
---
The Grafton was discreet, expensive, and known for turning the other way. I had the suite dimly lit, a bottle of bourbon breathing on the table, and boxes Chinese take out spread out on the Mable table.
At exactly 10:47 p.m., three soft knocks sounded on the door.
I opened it.
She stood there in a black hoodie, hair pulled back, leggings molded to her soft lush thick thighs. No weapons in sight, but I knew better. Naomi was always armed. But it wasn't the gear that got to me. It was the look in her eyes, hard, brilliant, determined. But tired. She looked tired.
"You hungry?" I asked.
She stepped past me. "Just answers."
---
She moved like she owned the space, settled by the window, hands folded on her lap like this wasn't the first time we'd met in shadows. I stayed standing.
"Toby Winters isn't Toby Winters," she started.
"Go on."
"His real name is Oluwatobiloba Akande. He's Nigerian. Nephew to Segun Akande. Moved to the States at 18, finished from USC five years ago, came to New York two years back. He's the one who got into my previous hideout disguised as my aunt's boyfriend. And I think your Priority Alpha… is my childhood ghost."
The room went silent.
I let it sink in. Segun. A name I'd seen too many times in reports with too few leads.
"So it's personal now," I said.
She laughed without humor. "It's always been personal. I just didn't realize it."
"You think Segun's trying to tie up loose ends?"
"More like cutting off anything that could expose the network. And I'm a liability."
I clenched my jaw. "You're not doing this alone."
She stood. "You think you can stop me?"
"No. But I can make sure you don't get killed."
She stepped closer, her face unreadable. "Why do you care so much, Mike?"
I didn't answer right away.
"Because I lost you once. I'm not doing it again."
I said slowly...
The air shifted.
She blinked slowly, like she was trying to decide what part of me to trust. Then she reached into her bag.
I stepped forward, instinct flaring.
"It's a flash drive," she said softly, pulling it out. "Has everything I have gotten so far. Including a secondary alias linked to Vulture."
I reached for it, but instead of taking it, I caught her wrist.
She froze.
I didn't move. Neither did she.
"This doesn't mean anything," she whispered, but her voice cracked on the last syllable.
I leaned in, lips inches from hers.
"Then why does it feel like everything?"