The tires screeched as Jaden's car sped through the wet city streets. Neon lights flickered on the windows, slicing across Lydia's frightened face.
He was gripping the wheel so hard his knuckles turned white.
"Jaden, slow down—" she started, but he cut her off.
"They know about you, Lydia! They've crossed the line."
The words were like thunder. Lydia could feel his rage vibrating in the car. She wanted to calm him, to tell him everything would be fine, but even she didn't believe that now.
When they finally stopped, it wasn't at his penthouse. It was at a quiet, abandoned warehouse on the edge of the city. He punched in a code on the rusted gate, and it rolled open with a groan.
Inside, Lydia saw what she never expected.
Screens. Maps. Files.
A whole secret operation room — the walls covered with photos, financial trails, and surveillance footage. Her picture was there too, circled in red ink.
"Jaden…" she whispered, voice trembling. "What is all this?"
He didn't answer immediately. He walked toward the desk, tore down her photo, and looked at her — guilt and desperation flashing in his eyes.
"It's everything I've collected on them," he said finally. "Evidence that could destroy them. But now that they know you're involved… you're in danger."
"Then we go to the police," she said, stepping closer. "We show them this."
He shook his head. "The police are part of it, Lydia. Half the force takes money from Steele Industries. There's no one to trust."
The weight of it all crashed over her.
The distance he'd kept.
The cold eyes that hid something deeper.
Now it all made sense.
"Then what do we do?" she asked softly.
He looked at her then — really looked at her — and for the first time, his guard dropped completely.
"Then we fight," he said. "Together."
Before Lydia could respond, the warehouse lights flickered.
The sound of footsteps echoed in the distance.
Jaden's face hardened instantly.
"They found us."
He grabbed her hand, and they ducked behind the metal crates as the heavy door burst open. Men in black suits entered, their guns gleaming under the dim lights.
Lydia's heart pounded. Jaden whispered, "When I say run — you run. Don't look back."
But she squeezed his hand tighter. "Not without you."
Gunfire erupted.
Glass shattered. Sparks rained down from broken lights.
Jaden moved like a storm — precise, fearless, his every move to protect her.
When one of the men tried to corner Lydia, she swung a metal rod with all her strength, striking his arm and sending his gun flying. Jaden caught it mid-air and fired.
The warehouse was chaos — smoke, heat, adrenaline.
Finally, silence.
Only their breaths filled the air.
Jaden walked toward her slowly, eyes dark with emotion. "You shouldn't have stayed," he said quietly.
She smiled weakly. "You'd have done the same."
Then, from the shadows, a voice echoed — calm, low, and familiar.
"Well," it said, "looks like the prodigal son still has fight in him."
Jaden froze. Lydia saw something in his eyes she'd never seen before — fear mixed with recognition.
"Who's there?" she whispered.
The man stepped forward — dressed in all black, his face half-lit by the flickering lights.
"Hello, Jaden," he said coldly. "Or should I say — hello, brother."