The apartment felt heavy, the air thick with the weight of what was coming. We had gone over the plan a dozen times, checked every possible variable, and still, a knot of unease sat in my stomach.
No matter how much we prepared, nothing could guarantee we’d make it out of this unscathed.
Richard was unpredictable. Dangerous.
And we were walking straight into his trap.
I stood in the kitchen, gripping the edge of the counter, my nails digging into the cool surface. My breathing was shallow, my thoughts running in circles, replaying every worst-case scenario.
“You’re overthinking again.”
Clara’s voice was soft, but I could hear the exhaustion beneath it.
I turned to find her leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, her expression unreadable.
I let out a humorless laugh. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
She stepped forward, closing the distance between us. “It is when it keeps you up at night.”
I exhaled shakily, running a hand through my hair. “I just… I don’t know if we’re ready.”
Clara reached out, her fingers brushing mine. “We are,” she murmured. “And we’re doing this together.”
I met her gaze, searching for something—anything—that could make this feel less impossible.
All I found was her.
And for now, that was enough.
The hours stretched on, slow and suffocating.
Leo had gone to rest, Marcelo was finalizing the last details, and Evelyn was stationed in front of her laptop, monitoring Richard’s movements.
Clara and I found ourselves alone in the living room, the space between us charged with everything we hadn’t said.
Finally, she sighed. “If I asked you to leave, would you?”
I frowned, turning to her. “What?”
“If I told you to run. To get as far away from this as possible.”
I shook my head without hesitation. “That’s not an option.”
Her jaw tightened. “Bela—”
“No,” I cut her off firmly. “You don’t get to ask that of me. Not after everything.”
She let out a slow, frustrated breath, running a hand through her hair. “I just…” Her voice wavered. “I don’t want to lose you.”
Something inside me cracked.
I reached for her hand, intertwining our fingers. “Then don’t push me away.”
Her grip tightened.
And in that moment, nothing else mattered.
Sometime after midnight, I found myself standing outside Clara’s door.
I wasn’t sure who had moved first—her or me.
All I knew was that when our lips met, everything else disappeared.
This wasn’t hesitation.
This wasn’t careful.
It was raw.
Desperate.
Months of longing, of tension, of wanting but not allowing ourselves to have.
I gasped against her lips as she pulled me closer, her hands gripping my waist. I tangled my fingers in her hair, letting myself feel her.
Her lips moved down my jaw, her breath hot against my skin. “Tell me to stop,” she whispered.
I pulled her closer. “Don’t you dare.”
Her laughter was low, sending shivers down my spine. “You’re impossible.”
“So are you.”
She kissed me again, deeper this time.
And I let myself fall.
For the first time in forever, I didn’t fight it.
I didn’t fight us.
Because this was real.
We were real.
And no matter what happened tomorrow, tonight, Clara was mine.
When I woke up, the world was bathed in the soft glow of dawn.
For a moment, I didn’t move. I just felt.
Clara’s warmth beside me. The steady rhythm of her breathing. The way her fingers were still tangled with mine, even in sleep.
It was so rare—this feeling of peace.
I turned my head slightly, watching her. In the quiet morning light, she looked softer. Less guarded.
Like the Clara I had known before everything fell apart.
A part of me wanted to stay in this moment forever.
But reality wasn’t that kind.
As if sensing my thoughts, Clara’s eyes fluttered open. She blinked a few times before focusing on me, a sleepy smile tugging at her lips.
“Morning.”
My heart clenched. “Morning.”
She studied me for a moment, then shifted onto her side, propping her head up with her hand. “You’re thinking too much again.”
I huffed out a small laugh. “Habit.”
Her fingers traced absent patterns against my arm. “Last night…”
I held my breath.
“What about it?”
She hesitated, then shook her head with a small smile. “No regrets.”
I exhaled, my shoulders relaxing. “No regrets.”
The moment stretched between us, fragile yet unbreakable.
Then, a sharp knock on the door shattered the silence.
Clara and I tensed simultaneously.
Marcelo’s voice came through the door. “We’ve got movement.”
I sat up instantly, my pulse spiking. Clara was already moving, slipping out of bed and pulling on a shirt.
Just like that, the war we had momentarily escaped came crashing back.
The living room was a flurry of motion when we walked in. Evelyn had her laptop open, maps and security footage flashing across the screen.
Marcelo was checking his gun, his expression grim.
Leo leaned against the wall, arms crossed. “It’s happening.”
Evelyn turned to us. “Richard’s making a move.”
Clara stiffened beside me. “Where?”
Evelyn pointed at the screen. “He’s been spotted near the docks. He’s setting something up.”
Marcelo exhaled sharply. “Then we hit first.”
I swallowed, trying to suppress the rising anxiety. “Are we sure this is it?”
Evelyn met my gaze. “It’s now or never.”
I turned to Clara.
She was already looking at me.
We didn’t need to say anything.
We were in this together.
And we weren’t backing down.