The weak light of a single bulb threw shadows across the new safehouse, a run-down loft above New Avalon's waterfront warehouses. The air felt thick with dust and the low hum of the city below. Lena was curled against me on a worn mattress, her red-brown hair spread over my chest, her breath warm on my skin. My ribs ached from the chase at the gala, and my shoulder stung from a bullet wound, but her touch – gentle, constant – pushed it all away. The tracker we'd found in her equipment last night, Dorian's secret control, had shaken her up, and I was holding her tight, like she was the only thing keeping me together. Her hazel eyes met mine, vulnerable yet strong, and I kissed her, slowly and deeply, tasting salt and worry. The vault's important information, Sophia's meeting with the President, Dorian's games – they were all still out there, but right now, it was just us, stealing a moment in a world that felt like it was falling apart.
"I'm scared, Jax," she whispered, her voice cracking, her fingers tracing the scar on my cheek. "That tracker… what if I'm messing things up for us without even knowing?" Her worry cut deep, and I pulled her closer, my lips brushing her forehead.
"You're not," I said, my voice rough but sure. "You're the one holding us together, Lena. Always." Her smile was small, but it was enough, and we were kissing again, more eagerly now, her hands pulling at my shirt, my fingers tangling in her hair. The mattress creaked, the city faded away, and for a moment, I believed we could escape this heist, Dorian, the betrayer – everything.
A cough interrupted us. Marcus was at the door, his large frame filling the doorway, his bandaged shoulder stiff, his dark eyes troubled. "We have a problem," he said, his voice low, rough from the pain and his PTSD. He held up Evie's phone, its screen lit with call logs. "Found this in her bag. Secret calls, coded, to a number we don't know. Last one was an hour ago."
My blood ran cold. Evie. I knew her recklessness was a warning sign—her screw-up at the gala, her overly smooth charm at the skyscraper. Lena sat up, her face hardening, her tech skills kicking in. "Let me see," she said, grabbing the phone, her fingers flying. "These are going through a hidden network—impossible to trace unless I break into the carrier's system." Her eyes met mine, and there was anger there, but also sadness. Evie's betrayal, if it was real, hurt us all.
"Where is she?" I asked, standing, my gun already in my hand. Marcus nodded towards the roof. "Said she needed air. I didn't trust it." His hands shook, his brother's death still haunting him, and I knew he was fighting to stay focused. I patted his shoulder, steadying him, but my mind was racing. Evie's calls, the tracker in Lena's gear, Dorian's video—pieces of a puzzle I couldn't solve yet.
We headed for the roof, Lena clutching her tablet, Marcus holding his pistol, the stairwell's creaking the only sound. The night air hit us hard, New Avalon's skyline a bright jungle, the docks glittering below. Evie was at the edge, her blonde hair loose, her back to us, talking quietly into a disposable phone. My heart sank—she wasn't even hiding it now.
"Evie!" I yelled, and she spun around, her blue eyes wide, the phone falling to the ground. "Who are you calling?" I stepped closer, my gun raised, but a defiant smirk crossed her face.
"You think I'm the rat?" she snapped, her voice sharp but shaky. "I'm protecting us, Jax. That call was to someone who can get us past the vault's security system." Her words sounded too practiced, too smooth, and Lena's glare could cut through steel.
"That's a lie," Lena said, stepping forward, her tablet glowing. "Your calls match the betrayer's signal patterns from the warehouse. You've been playing us." Her voice trembled, and I saw the betrayal in her eyes—not just for the team, but for me, for trusting Evie for too long.
Before Evie could answer, the roof shook, the sound of a grappling hook cutting the air. Dorian's mercenaries—dressed in black, heavily armed—swung over the edge, their boots landing on the gravel. "Down!" I yelled, shoving Lena behind an AC unit, firing my gun. Bullets hit the metal, sparks flying, the night erupting into chaos. Marcus roared, firing his pistol, but his shots were wild, his PTSD taking over. Evie dove for cover, her knife flashing, but I caught her looking at the mercenaries, and my gut screamed that she was in on this.
"Jax, they're blocking my signal!" Lena shouted, her tablet sparking as she tried to hack the mercenaries' communications. Her face was lit by the screen, strong and beautiful, and I fired, taking down a mercenary, my heart pounding for her, for us. Marcus got hit, a bullet grazing his arm, blood spraying, and he stumbled, his eyes unfocused with pain and past memories.
"Bear, stay with me!" I yelled, dragging him behind a vent. Evie was fighting now, her knife slashing a mercenary's thigh, but it seemed too staged, like she was putting on a show. I fired again, my clip running low, the mercenaries closing in, their lasers cutting through the air. Lena's tablet beeped, and the rooftop sprinklers suddenly went off, water spraying everywhere, blinding the mercenaries for a second. "Got their communications!" she said, her voice happy, and I grinned despite the chaos—she was amazing.
We fought back, Marcus recovering, his shots more accurate now, Lena guiding us with drone feeds. I tackled a mercenary, my fist hitting his jaw, but another grabbed me, holding a knife to my throat. Evie was there, her knife plunging into his back, saving me, but her eyes didn't meet mine, and I didn't trust it. "We're even," she muttered, but I didn't believe her.
The last mercenary fell, the roof a mess of blood and gravel, but Evie was gone. I spun around, scanning the area—her phone was on the ground, the disposable phone smashed, but she had disappeared. "Evie!" I shouted, my voice rough, but the night swallowed her. Lena was at my side, her hand on my arm, her breath uneven.
"She's gone," Lena said, her voice shaking, her eyes searching mine. "Jax, what if she's with Dorian?" My stomach dropped. Evie's calls, her disappearance—it was too clean, too suspicious. Marcus limped over, his face grim, blood dripping, and I knew he was thinking the same thing.
Before I could answer, Lena's tablet blared, a new message coming through. "It's Dorian," she whispered, her face paling. The screen flickered, and I saw it—a live video feed showing Evie, her hands tied, Dorian smirking behind her. "Time's up, Malone," he said, his voice smooth and dangerous. "Your team's falling apart. What's next?" The feed cut out, and Lena's eyes met mine, fear and anger mixed together, and I knew we were in more trouble than ever.