I got home later than I expected, the night already settled deep into silence. The door closed softly behind me, and for a moment I just stood there, listening—to the quiet, to my own breathing, to the unfamiliar feeling of coming back to a place that still didn't feel like it was mine.
Then I saw him.
Alexander was asleep on the couch in the living room, one arm resting loosely across his chest, the other hanging off the edge like he'd given up fighting sleep halfway through the night. The fireplace was still lit, low and steady, flames flickering softly and throwing warm light across the room. It painted his features in gold and shadow, sharp lines softened by exhaustion.
For a second, I just watched.
He looked different like this. Less untouchable. Less like the man everyone feared. Just… human. Tired. Quiet.
I don't know why I moved closer. Maybe curiosity. Maybe something else I didn't want to name yet.
I stepped lightly, careful not to wake him, the rug muffling my footsteps. When I reached the couch, I leaned slightly forward, studying his face—the calm rise and fall of his chest, the faint crease between his brows even in sleep, like his mind never truly rested.
And then—
His eyes opened.
Immediately.
Sharp. Alert. Grey locking onto mine like he'd been awake the whole time.
I froze.
For a heartbeat, neither of us moved. The fire crackled behind him, the room breathing around us, and the air suddenly felt too thick, too warm.
"Enjoying the view?" he asked, his voice low, rough with sleep but unmistakably steady.
My breath caught, and I straightened a little too quickly. "I—sorry. I didn't mean to wake you."
"You didn't," he said, eyes never leaving mine. "I wasn't really asleep."
Of course you weren't, I thought.
He slowly sat up, resting his elbows on his knees, still watching me like I was something he hadn't quite figured out yet. "You're back late."
"I went for a walk," I said quietly. "Needed some air."
Something shifted in his expression—not concern exactly, but awareness. Like he was filing that information away for later.
The firelight reflected in his eyes, making them look almost silver. "You should be more careful," he said. "This city isn't forgiving at night."
I gave a small, almost apologetic smile. "I'll remember that."
Silence fell again, heavier this time. Not uncomfortable—but charged. Like something unsaid was pressing between us.
"You okay?" he asked suddenly.
The question caught me off guard.
I hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah. Just… tired."
He studied me for a moment longer, then leaned back into the couch. "You should rest. You've had a long day."
"So have you," I said before I could stop myself.
The corner of his mouth twitched—barely a smile, but it was there. "That's nothing new."
I took a step back, suddenly very aware of how close I'd been. "Goodnight, Alexander."
"Goodnight, Evie."
I turned and walked toward my room, my heart beating just a little faster than it should have. And even after I closed the door behind me, I could still feel his gaze lingering—like the firelight itself had followed me down the hall.
I had barely taken two steps down the hallway when his voice stopped me.
"Evie."
It wasn't loud. He didn't need to raise it. There was something in the way he said my name—steady, deliberate—that made me pause instantly.
I turned back slowly. "Yes?"
He had stood up now, the firelight still dancing behind him, casting long shadows across the living room. For a moment, he didn't speak. He just looked at me, like he was weighing something carefully in his mind.
"I wanted to ask you something," he said at last.
My fingers curled slightly at my side. "Okay."
There was the briefest hesitation—so small most people wouldn't have noticed it—but I did. Alexander Quinn wasn't a man who hesitated often.
"I was thinking," he continued, his voice calm but lower now, more personal, "that I'd like to take you out tomorrow night."
The words landed heavier than I expected.
"Out?" I echoed softly.
"Yes." He nodded once, measured. "Somewhere quiet. Neutral. Dinner, maybe. Or just a place with fewer walls." His eyes held mine steadily. "You've been through a lot. I thought… it might do you some good."
For a second, my mind raced—Liam, the mission, the lie I was living so carefully. Every instinct screamed calculation.
But there was something else there too. Something human.
I swallowed. "You don't have to do that."
"I know," he replied. "I want to."
That simple statement unsettled me more than anything else he could've said.
The fire cracked softly. The house seemed to hold its breath.
"…Tomorrow night?" I asked.
"If you're comfortable with it," he said. No pressure. No command. Just an offer.
I nodded slowly. "Yeah. I think… I'd like that."
Something shifted in his expression—not triumph, not relief, but something quieter. Satisfied. Thoughtful.
"Good," he said. "I'll handle everything. You just show up."
I smiled faintly. "I wasn't expecting it."
His gaze lingered on me for a second longer than necessary. "Don't worry it's just a simple night."
I turned back toward the hallway, my pulse steady but unmistakably faster now. "Goodnight, Alexander."
"Goodnight, Evie."
As I walked away this time, my thoughts were anything but quiet.
A dinner.A night out.A step closer.
And I couldn't tell anymore where the mission ended—and where this began.
He always gets me at times like this like out of nowhere, like just right now, with how cold he was the whole time, l didn't expect him to ask me out. and why am l so bashful and flustered over it, it's all part of the mission, Liam did tell me that l had to anticipate this when l go on missions.
That l would somehow even have these feelings, but that's what shows progress, and now alexander is making a move. had been waiting for this.
I never wished for this, but l think l am going to use him.