The hotel room still smelled like jasmine and sex. I sat at the edge of the bed, bare chest heaving slightly, pulse not yet slowed. Her scent was everywhere—clinging to the sheets, the air, my skin. My fingers were still tingling from where they gripped her waist. My mouth remembered her taste. And my mind?
Fucked.
It kept replaying every second of it. The way her breath hitched when I touched her. The way she said my name like a curse and a prayer all at once. The way our bodies fit like we had been carved for each other. I hadn't had sex in over a year, since random meaningless sex became chaotic and unsatisfyin, then I buried myself in work and rage. Now, I knew something for certain:
There wouldn't be anyone else. Ever. Not after Naomi, who was i kidding, there never was anyone that could take her place in my life.
---
An hour later, I stepped out into the cool night air and headed to my place in the suburbs. The drive was quiet, smooth. But my chest still burned. By the time I got to my estate, Calvin was already at the door.
"Evening, sir," he greeted with a knowing smile.
"Calvin," I nodded. I didn't need to ask if he noticed the shift in my energy. The man had been with me long enough to recognize a change. He said nothing, just stepped aside as I walked in.
The house felt different. For the first time in a long time, it didn't feel cold. Empty. I pictured Naomi in the kitchen, barefoot and annoyed, muttering at me for rearranging her pantry. I imagined her curled up on the couch, hacking into some top-level server while sipping wine.
Fuck, I wanted that to be real.
I went into my office and locked the door.
Called Jason.
"Yeah, boss?"
"Just wanted to update you," I said, dropping into my chair. "Segun Akande's name came up again. He's Toby's uncle. Naomi confirmed it."
Jason let out a low whistle. "Didn't see that coming."
"Neither did I."
He was quiet for a second. Then: "You sound different. Happier. That wouldn't have anything to do with a certain assassin whose name starts with an N?"
I grinned into the dark. "Go to bed, Jason."
He laughed. "Copy that."
I ended the call.
---
Couldn't sleep.
I stood in front of the mirror, shirt off, sweatpants low on my hips. My eyes locked on the faint scratch running down my collarbone. Her nails. A fucking badge of honor. I touched it, the sting grounding me. She left a mark on me, and I wasn't just talking about my skin.
I opened the drawer in my desk.
Pulled out a file labeled FIX.
Inside: my sister's photos. Her case. The man who got her killed.
I stared at them in silence for a long time, then placed Naomi's flash drive beside it. This wasn't just my mission anymore. It was ours.
Fix. 9X. Vulture. Segun.
They were all bleeding into each other.
---
At 3:04 a.m., a silent alert pinged across my home security system.
Just one flicker.
Camera 6. Facing the woods behind my house. Two seconds of static.
But two seconds is too damn long in my world.
I grabbed my gun and walked onto the balcony, barefoot, eyes scanning the treeline. Nothing but trees and shadow. But I knew better.
Someone was watching.
I texted Jason:
> "We might be compromised. Full perimeter scan first thing. I want eyes everywhere."
Then I sat back down, flipping open a message on my phone. A blinking message caught my eye.
Encrypted. Dated three years ago. From Carlos.
Subject: Firefox
Body: If she ever resurfaces, trust no one. Not even me.
My jaw locked.
Too fucking late for that.
Because I trusted her with everything I had. And if anyone tried to take her from me again—
They wouldn't live long enough to regret it.