83
TWO YEARS AGO
The night had teeth.
It bit softly against Aielle’s skin as she stepped out of the cab and looked up at Leon’s penthouse — that glass-walled monument to arrogance and charm. From the street below, the tower shimmered, slicing through the clouds like a blade. Every inch of it whispered danger. Every memory that led her here tasted like guilt.
The elevator ride up felt endless, each floor a reminder that she should have stayed away.
He’s your boyfriend’s brother.
The thought pressed in like a bruise. But then came the familiar defense, a whisper that made it easier to breathe: Ivon doesn’t see you anymore. Not really. He sees the ghost of who he thinks you are. All comfortable lies
When the doors opened, Leon was waiting — barefoot, glass of whiskey in hand, his shirt unbuttoned just enough to make it look accidental.
“You’re late,” he said, voice steady but eyes burning with that dark amusement that always unnerved her.
Aielle’s lips tilted in a mock smile. “Traffic.”
He stepped aside, letting her in. The scent of cedar and expensive liquor filled the room. Everything about Leon’s penthouse screamed control — polished surfaces, art that looked cold even in warm light, and windows that made the city look small beneath his feet.
He closed the door, the click of the lock louder than it should have been.
“You shouldn’t keep coming here,” Leon murmured, voice dropping low as he took her coat. “You know what this means.”
Aielle turned to face him, the words leaving her before she could stop them. “You say that every time, and yet—”
“And yet you’re here.” His smirk was half-smile, half-confession. “And I don’t stop you.”
That was the truth of them — two people who should’ve stayed on opposite sides of a line but kept erasing it with shaking hands and bad decisions.
She looked away, finding refuge in the skyline instead of his eyes. “You make it sound like I don’t have a choice.”
“Do you?” he countered softly, stepping closer.
Her pulse jumped. The sound of his bare feet against the marble echoed like heartbeats. When his hand touched her jaw, she almost leaned into it — almost. But guilt was a heavy thing. It sat in her chest, thick and metallic, refusing to move.
“Ivon loves you,” Leon said, the faintest bitterness sharpening his voice.
“I know.”
“He doesn’t deserve what you’re doing.”
Her laugh came out low, a little cracked. “And you do?”
That shut him up.
The air between them thickened. They stared at each other, two people who knew too much — about loyalty, about betrayal, about the rush that came from being seen when you were supposed to be invisible.
Leon took her wrist gently, drawing her closer until her body brushed his. “I don’t deserve you,” he admitted, “but I want you.” The words landed like a confession and a curse.
By the time his mouth found hers, the argument had already burned itself to ash. The kiss wasn’t gentle — it never was with them. It was angry, raw, like punishment and forgiveness tangled together. Her fingers slid into his hair, his hands tracing the familiar shape of her waist as if they had the right to. The city lights painted their skin in shifting gold and shadow.
When they broke apart, her breathing came uneven, and his gaze stayed fixed on her — steady, devouring.
“I need to shower,” he muttered, as if it would break the tension.
Aielle nodded, brushing her hair out of her face. “Go ahead.”
He disappeared down the hall, and the sound of water followed a few seconds later. The penthouse grew quiet again, save for the steady hum of the city far below.
That was when the mask slipped.
Aielle’s hand trembled as she reached into her purse and pulled out a thin, silver USB cord — the kind that could pass for a phone charger. Her stomach twisted, but her movements were practiced, deliberate. She plugged it into Leon’s phone lying unattended on the counter, the screen lighting up in soft blue.
“Come on,” she whispered. Her reflection in the glass wall looked unfamiliar — the careful smile gone, replaced by the face of someone she didn’t quite recognize.
The line connected. Files began to transfer, one by one — encrypted documents, message logs, call histories. Everything that tied Leon to the operations Ivon could never prove existed.
Aielle pressed her earpiece closer to her ear.
“I’m in,” she whispered. “It’s taking longer than I thought.”
The voice on the other end was male, low and calm, tinged with impatience.
“Be quick. You have five minutes. Did he suspect?”
“No. He’s in the shower,” she murmured, eyes darting toward the hallway. “He thinks I’m just… here.”
“You sound conflicted.”
Aielle’s laugh was humorless. “You think?”
“You knew what you were agreeing to when you shook my hand in partnership. Get the files. We’ll deal with your feelings later.”
She almost smiled at that. Feelings. What a ridiculous luxury in a world that ran on leverage and blood.
“Leon’s got deeper ties than we thought,” she said softly, watching the progress bar crawl. “If he ever finds out—”
“He won’t,” the voice cut in. “That’s not your concern. Your job is to get the data and walk away.”
The bar hit 94%. Aielle’s pulse spiked. She could hear the shower stop. Her fingers flew over the screen, securing the copy just as the last file synced.
“I’ve got it,” she breathed. “Everything.”
“Good. You know where to drop it.”
She yanked the cord out, shoving the device into her purse. Her heart thundered so hard she thought it would give her away. She stood frozen for a second, forcing her breath into even rhythm, smoothing her hair, pulling her blouse back into place — transforming again into the woman Leon wanted to see.
The sound of the bathroom door opening snapped her back.
Leon walked out in nothing but a towel slung low on his hips, his skin still glistening with water. He looked relaxed — too relaxed — the kind of dangerous calm that came before the storm.
“You didn’t leave,” he said softly, surprise flickering in his eyes.
Aielle smiled, the picture of casual affection. “Would you have liked that?”
Leon chuckled, stepping closer, wiping his face with the towel. “You have a terrible habit of showing up when I’m trying to forget you, and leaving when I finally stop trying.”
“Maybe I enjoy being inconvenient.”
He studied her for a moment. “You enjoy control,” he corrected.
Aielle tilted her head, masking her unease with a playful smirk. “And you don’t?”
He grinned faintly, dropping the towel over a chair. “Touché.”
When he leaned in again, kissing her temple, she had to stop herself from flinching. The scent of his soap clung to her, sharp and warm, and the intimacy made her stomach knot. Because for all his faults, Leon didn’t deserve this — not the theft, not the deception.
But she couldn’t afford to think like that. Not when she’d made her choice months ago. Not when her freedom, and justice, depended on what she could take tonight.
Leon brushed his lips near her ear. “Stay the night.”
Aielle hesitated, pulse skipping. “You know I can’t.”
“Then don’t make me ask why.”
She forced a smile. “Goodnight, Leon.”
He caught her wrist before she could move away — not roughly, but with the kind of possessive familiarity that said he already knew she would leave. “You keep doing this,” he said quietly. “Coming here like you belong, and then walking out before morning. What are we even doing, Aielle?”
Her throat tightened. “Something we both shouldn’t.”
He let go of her hand slowly, searching her face for something he wouldn’t find. “Then at least tell me this — when you’re with him, do you think about me?”
Her mouth opened, but no sound came. And that silence was its own confession.
Leon smiled faintly, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I thought so.”
Aielle left before her resolve could crumble, stepping into the hallway that suddenly felt too narrow. The door clicked shut behind her. Her reflection in the elevator doors stared back — hair tousled, lipstick faintly smeared, eyes rimmed with guilt and... victory?.
The phone in her purse buzzed once.
A text.
Unknown: Good work. Phase two begins soon.
She shut her eyes, exhaling shakily.
Two years from now, she would stand in the same city with blood on her hands, hunted by the man she once stole from, haunted by the brother she betrayed.
But tonight — tonight, the only thing louder than her heartbeat was the lie she was learning to live with.