The rain had stopped, but the city hadn't healed.
Days had passed since the explosion that tore through the safehouse — yet Lydia could still smell the smoke, hear the ringing in her ears, feel the ghost of his touch when she closed her eyes.
But she wasn't the same woman who once looked to Jaden for strength.
Now, she was learning to become her own weapon.
Marcus stood by the desk, maps spread across it. Red pins and scattered photos marked locations — safehouses, old warehouses, border routes.
"He's somewhere here," Marcus said, pointing at the circled area near the coastal edge of Greece. "Satellite feeds show movement two nights ago. Could be Jaden."
Lydia stared at the map, her jaw set. "Then that's where I'll go."
"You can't just walk into a foreign country with half the world still hunting for you," Marcus warned.
"I don't care." Her voice was low but unwavering. "He's alive. I felt it."
Marcus sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Then I'm coming with you."
Lydia's eyes softened — a flicker of gratitude. "No, Marcus. You've done enough. If Jaden's alive… he'll be watching. He'll make sure I'm not followed."
There was silence between them. The type that holds truth heavier than words.
Finally, Marcus nodded. "Just don't forget who you've become, Lydia. Don't lose yourself trying to find him."
---
Meanwhile — somewhere across the sea.
A dimly lit medical room.
Monitors beeped faintly, and the sharp scent of antiseptic filled the air.
Jaden sat on the edge of the bed, shirtless, his shoulder bandaged tightly. The scar across his ribs looked fresh, angry. But his eyes — those cold, calculating eyes — burned with focus.
"You shouldn't even be sitting up," said a woman's voice.
He turned slightly.
It was Cassandra.
She leaned against the doorway, her expression unreadable. The same woman who once betrayed him — now the only one who'd helped him survive the blast.
"Why?" he asked flatly.
She smirked. "Because even I know when I've gone too far. And because I wasn't the one who wanted you dead."
Jaden's jaw tightened. "Then who did?"
Cassandra stepped closer, her heels clicking softly on the tile floor. "You still don't understand, do you? The board—the real power behind Holloway Enterprises—never wanted you alive once you started digging into their files. They used me to keep you distracted."
Jaden's stare darkened. "You're lying."
"Am I?" Cassandra whispered, her gaze sharp. "Think about it. That explosion wasn't meant for Lydia. It was meant for you."
Silence.
Jaden looked away, gripping the edge of the bed. His knuckles whitened. "And Lydia?"
Cassandra's expression shifted — something almost human flickered there. "She was collateral. They thought killing both of you would erase the last loose ends."
He stood slowly, ignoring the pain that shot through his chest. "They failed."
Cassandra smiled faintly. "Barely. You owe me for that."
"I owe you nothing."
Her smile faded. "We'll see."
---
Three nights later — Istanbul.
Lydia walked through the crowded bazaar under a hooded coat, eyes scanning every face. Her heart thumped faster with each step.
She had followed the trail Marcus helped her trace — encrypted signals, whispers of a man using old Holloway codes.
And then she saw it.
A reflection — a tall figure watching her from across the street.
Even in the blur of the crowd, her heart knew before her mind did.
Jaden.
For a split second, time stopped. The noise of the city faded.
He looked different — harder, older, a thin scar cutting across his temple. But it was him.
She crossed the road without thinking.
"Jaden!" she called.
He turned slowly — eyes full of shock, fear, and something else entirely.
Before he could move, a sharp crack split the air.
A gunshot.
People screamed. Chaos erupted.
Jaden dove toward her, pulling her behind a stone wall. Another bullet shattered the market stall beside them.
Lydia's heart raced. "They found us—"
"I know," he hissed, checking his weapon. "They've been following me for days."
Her voice trembled. "You're alive… I thought you—"
He looked at her, eyes burning. "There's no time."
He grabbed her hand — firm, desperate, familiar.
"We move. Now."
---
As they sprinted through the narrow streets, the rain began again — hard, relentless, washing away the blood on the cobblestones.
Behind them, unseen snipers coordinated through comms.
A woman's voice came through the static.
"Target confirmed. Holloway and the girl. Execute at will."
But in the shadows above, Cassandra listened too — her earpiece connected to the same channel
And for the first time in her life, she hesitated.