The rain had finally stopped by dawn, leaving Blackwater City shrouded in a thick gray fog that clung to every surface like a second skin. Elara woke to the smell of coffee and burnt toast, sitting up slowly as her body protested—every muscle ached from their escape the night before.
Kael was standing by the small kitchen counter, his back to her, pouring two cups of coffee. He'd already changed into fresh clothes—a black t-shirt and dark jeans that did little to hide the hard lines of his physique. The bandage she'd applied to his shoulder was visible beneath the fabric, already stained with a faint circle of red.
"You should have let me stitch that properly," she said, pushing herself up from the bed.
"It'll hold." He turned and handed her a cup of coffee—black, just how she liked it. "I called the safe house. Everyone made it out okay. They're already working on recovering what we lost."
Elara took a sip of coffee, letting the warmth spread through her. "And Thorne? What's he doing now?"
"He's cleaning up his mess." Kael leaned against the counter, his gaze fixed on the window. "He'll be trying to cover his tracks, make sure no one connects him to the attack last night. That gives us a window—maybe twenty-four hours, tops—before he's ready to move against us again."
She set her cup down and walked to the table, where her laptop sat open. "I looked through the files again this morning. There's something here—Thorne has a meeting scheduled for tonight at the Grand Plaza Hotel. He's supposed to be signing a deal that will give him control of the water treatment plant."
Kael pushed off the counter and joined her at the table, leaning over to look at the screen. "That's earlier than we thought. He must be moving up his timeline now that we've exposed ourselves."
"He's bringing his entire inner circle," Elara continued, pointing to a list of names on the screen. "If we can get evidence of that meeting—photos, video, audio—we can take them all down at once. The city council won't be able to ignore it then."
"Or they'll bury it and make us disappear," Kael said flatly. "We can't trust anyone in power to do the right thing. We need a plan that ensures this goes public before they have a chance to cover it up."
"I have contacts at national news outlets," Elara said quickly. "If I can get them the evidence by tomorrow morning, they'll run the story before Thorne can pull any strings here."
"Assuming we survive long enough to get it to them." He ran a hand through his black hair, a rare sign of frustration. "The Grand Plaza is Thorne's territory. Every security guard, every valet—they all work for him. Getting inside won't be easy, and getting out with evidence will be even harder."
"I have an idea." Elara pulled up a webpage on her laptop—an announcement for a charity gala being held at the hotel the same night. "The mayor's office is hosting it. I can get us invitations—my editor has connections on the organizing committee."
Kael raised an eyebrow. "And what do you propose we do once we're inside? Walk up to Thorne's private meeting room and start recording?"
"Not exactly." She pulled out a small device from her bag—a tiny camera and microphone, no bigger than her thumb. "I've been working with a tech specialist who develops surveillance equipment for journalists. This can transmit live footage directly to a secure server. If we can plant it in the meeting room before they arrive…"
"We can get everything we need without ever setting foot inside." He nodded slowly, a faint look of approval crossing his face. "It's risky, but it could work."
"Which means we'll need someone on the inside to help us place the device," Elara said. "Do you have anyone who can get close enough?"
Kael was silent for a moment, then pulled out his phone and made a call. He spoke in low, quiet tones—Elara caught fragments of words like "gala," "access," and "tonight" before he hung up.
"Her name is Lena," he said, putting the phone away. "She works as a server at the Grand Plaza. Her brother was one of the dockworkers Thorne had killed for refusing to smuggle drugs through the ports. She owes me a debt."
"We can't ask her to risk her life for us," Elara said immediately.
"Risk is relative." Kael's voice was cold again, the wall he'd built around himself back in place. "She's been waiting for a chance to get back at Thorne. This is her opportunity as much as it is ours."
Elara knew better than to argue. She'd seen the way loyalty worked in Kael's world—people owed him favors, and he called them in when he needed to. It wasn't kindness or generosity that held his organization together; it was debt and respect, forged in fire and loss.
They spent the rest of the morning preparing. Elara called her editor to secure two invitations to the gala, spinning a story about wanting to cover the event for The Chronicle. Kael made arrangements for Lena to meet them at the hotel an hour before the gala began, and he spent time going over the hotel's floor plan, memorizing every exit and hiding spot.
As noon approached, Elara found herself watching him as he studied a map pinned to the wall. The hard lines of his face were softened by concentration, and for a moment, she could see the boy he'd once been—before tragedy had turned him into the man he was now.
"Why did you tell me about your parents?" she asked suddenly.
He turned to look at her, his steel-gray eyes holding hers. "Because trust is a two-way street. You're putting your life in my hands, Elara. I owed you the truth about why I'm doing this."
"Is that all it is?" She took a step closer to him. "Or is there more? Something you're not telling me?"
For a long moment, he said nothing. Then he reached out and brushed a strand of hair from her face, his touch so gentle it made her breath catch. "There are things in my past… things I'm not proud of. Things that would make you run away from me if you knew them."
"Then tell me," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Let me decide for myself."
Kael pulled his hand away, turning back to the map. "Not yet. When this is over—if we make it out alive—I'll tell you everything. But right now, we can't afford distractions. Thorne is dangerous enough without us letting our guard down."
Elara knew he was right, but the distance that had grown between them in that moment left a hollow feeling in her chest. She turned back to her laptop and started preparing the secure server that would receive the live footage, pushing aside the emotions that threatened to cloud her judgment.
As evening approached, they dressed for the gala—Kael in a sharp black suit that made him look even more dangerous than usual, Elara in a deep blue dress that fell to her knees. She pinned the tiny camera to the inside of her clutch, checking one last time that it was working.
"Ready?" Kael asked, holding out his hand.
Elara looked at his hand, then up at his face. She thought about everything they'd been through in just a few days—how he'd saved her life, how he'd shared parts of himself she suspected he'd never told anyone else. Despite everything she'd heard about him, despite the danger he represented, she found herself trusting him completely.
She took his hand, her fingers fitting perfectly in his. "Ready."
They left the apartment and stepped out into the fading light, the fog still thick around them. The Grand Plaza Hotel stood tall in the distance, its windows glowing like gold against the gray sky. Inside, Victor Thorne was waiting. And tonight, they would finally make their move.