Ava didn't sleep that night.
She stayed on the velvet couch in the corner of her suite, watching the city lights blink like eyes in the dark. Her heart wouldn't stop racing. The air conditioning hummed too loud. The silence was deafening. And somewhere in the back of her mind, Ghost's name played like a broken record.
They knew she was alive.
They knew where she was.
And Eitan Berger had the proof—delivered to her like a gift wrapped in blood.
She kept thinking about what he said. That he'd been watching her long before he ever spoke to her. That he'd followed her life like a hobby. No, not a hobby—an obsession.
She should have been terrified. But instead, her mind kept circling one thought.
If he was watching all along... did that mean he saw the moment she broke?
The day she ran?
The night she killed the only person who ever tried to help her escape?
Ava pressed her forehead against the cool glass window, fingers curled into fists. She had no one. No safe place. No plan.
And now Eitan was offering something she wasn't sure she deserved—protection, vengeance, purpose. A deal, with strings she hadn't seen yet.
But maybe that was better than living on the run again.
At 6:30 a.m., she gave up on trying to rest.
She changed into black jeans and a hoodie, tied her hair up, and walked barefoot across the cold marble floor. She didn't know where she was going, but her feet carried her through the penthouse halls like muscle memory.
Eitan's office was quiet when she opened the door. She expected him to be asleep, but of course not. He was already there—behind his desk, in a black dress shirt with sleeves rolled up and a glass of something amber in his hand. He didn't even flinch when she entered.
"You look like hell," he said.
She ignored that. "I couldn't sleep."
"Good. That means you're still sane."
She stepped inside, arms crossed. "I came to ask what you want from me. Don't give me your fancy lines or power plays. Just tell me what this is."
Eitan stood and walked around his desk. He looked tired too, but not in the same way she did. His tiredness was layered—like someone who hadn't allowed himself to rest in years.
"You're not here by accident," he said. "And I'm not helping you out of kindness."
"Obviously."
"I need someone on the inside," he continued. "Someone who understands Ghost. Their networks. How they think."
Ava laughed, but it sounded too sharp. "I haven't been one of them for five years."
"But you know more than anyone else still breathing."
"And if I say no?"
"You can leave. I won't stop you." His voice was calm, neutral. "But you won't make it a week. They already know you're with me. That changes everything."
She stared at him. "You want to use me."
"I want to win," he replied.
"And what do I get out of it?"
He didn't hesitate. "Revenge. Safety. Power. All of the above."
She shook her head slowly. "You don't even care about me. You just want a tool."
He took a step forward. "Don't confuse strategy with lack of emotion."
"Oh please."
"You think I watched you for years just because you were useful?" he said, voice rising a little now. "I could've hired ten mercenaries and burned Ghost down by now. But I waited. I watched you. Because there's something about you I couldn't explain. You were ruined and still walking. You were hunted and still breathing. And I—"
He stopped himself.
Ava tilted her head. "And you what?"
"I couldn't let anyone else get to you first."
She swallowed.
The room suddenly felt warmer.
Too warm.
"Say I help you," she said quietly. "What then?"
"You move in here permanently. You answer only to me. I'll fund everything you need—gear, aliases, clean passports. You'll have full access to my systems."
"And in exchange?"
"You give me what I need to destroy Ghost."
Her fingers twitched. "That's not a contract. That's a war."
"Exactly."
She sat on the edge of the desk, facing him. "And what makes you think I won't just disappear again?"
"Because you don't want to run anymore," he said. "And because deep down, you want them to pay."
Ava closed her eyes.
She saw the faces of the people she'd lost.
Kyla. Darren. Even Mira.
All gone because of Ghost.
When she opened her eyes again, she didn't feel broken anymore. Just angry.
"Fine," she said. "I'll work with you. But on one condition."
"Name it."
"I want to be the one who pulls the trigger on the man who gave the order to kill me."
Eitan smiled, slow and dangerous.
"Deal."
---
Ava's relocation to the penthouse was silent and swift. No press. No luggage. Just a file marked with a new identity and a keycard handed to her without ceremony.
Everything moved too fast.
But maybe that was good.
Eitan's world didn't allow time for grief.
She got her own room—twice the size of her old apartment—with access to the building's surveillance hub and a private underground shooting range.
He wasn't just serious.
He was obsessed.
And when she caught him watching her from the balcony later that night, she didn't flinch anymore.
She just looked back.
And instead of turning away, he walked toward her.
She heard the soft sound of his steps on the marble. Controlled. Unhurried. Deliberate.
He stopped beside her on the balcony, his gaze fixed on the streetlights far below.
"You didn't ask why I care so much," he said.
Ava didn't look at him. "I figured it wouldn't be the truth if I did."
A soft laugh escaped his lips, but it wasn't warm. "Maybe. Or maybe I'm not used to explaining myself to anyone."
"Well, I'm not used to being kept alive this long," she replied, only half-joking.
They stood in silence for a moment, the wind sweeping across the rooftop. It was peaceful in a strange way—too quiet for a man like him, too calm for a woman like her.
"I never said this would be easy," he finally murmured. "Or clean."
"I'm not asking for clean. I just want them to bleed."
He turned his head slowly, watching her profile. Her arms were resting on the railing, the wind tousling her hair, and for a moment, she looked untouchable. Sharp and ghostly in the city light.
"You're not what I expected," he admitted.
"And you're exactly what I expected," she replied without missing a beat.
Something flickered behind his eyes—something almost human.
"I'll make them pay, Ava," he said, voice low and hoarse. "For what they did to you. For everything they thought they could get away with. But you have to promise me something."
She faced him fully now. "What?"
"When it's over—when we've burned them to the ground—don't run from me."
Her heart stuttered. "What makes you think I'd stay?"
"I don't. That's why I'm asking."
She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. For once, her words failed her.
And in that moment, for the first time in a long time, she realized something terrifying.
She didn't just want vengeance.
She wanted to be seen.
And Eitan Berger saw her like no one ever had.
Maybe that was the most dangerous part of all.