Chaos

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Before Aiden could respond, the lounge windows shattered inward in a violent burst—glass flying, smoke grenades hissing across the floor.

“Down!” Lyra shouted, grabbing Aiden and pulling him to the floor just as bullets ripped through the room.

Her reflexes were a blur—hand inside her jacket, pistol drawn, firing three precise shots through the smoke. Somewhere outside, a body dropped.

Aiden coughed, eyes stinging, ears ringing. “What the hell is happening?!”

“We’ve been compromised,” Lyra growled, yanking him behind the heavy marble bar for cover. “Someone knew you’d confront me today. They want you dead—and me distracted.”

More gunfire. A burst hit the liquor shelf above them, bottles exploding into shards and flame.

Cass’s voice buzzed through Lyra’s earpiece. “We’re under siege—rooftop snipers, two breach teams on floor twenty. They’re targeting you and Rowe.”

“Lock the floor down,” Lyra ordered. “Pull every available hand. No survivors.”

Cass didn’t question her. The line went dead.

Aiden looked at her like he didn’t know whether to be terrified of her or thankful she was on his side.

“You still think this has nothing to do with you?” she asked, breathless but steady.

“I don’t even know who to be afraid of anymore.”

She met his gaze, eyes fierce. “Then be afraid of losing me.”

With that, she stood—twin pistols now—and stepped into the smoke.

Aiden followed.

They moved as one. Lyra was graceful, deadly, in full war mode. Aiden had never seen her like this—had never seen anyone like this. She dropped two attackers near the elevators, reloaded without blinking, and motioned him toward the side stairwell.

As they ran, gunfire echoing behind them, Aiden grabbed her arm. “You said no one touches me but you. Was that a threat?”

She turned to him, chest heaving, face smudged with soot—but still calm in the storm.

“No,” she said. “It was a promise.”

---

The car skidded into a quiet alley on the outskirts of the city, headlights off, tires still hot from the escape.

Aiden stumbled out of the back seat, coughing from the adrenaline and lingering smoke. Lyra followed, every move still sharp, still alert—even though they'd shaken the attackers miles back.

The building was unmarked—concrete, nondescript, with a rusted door that hissed open under Lyra’s thumbprint.

Inside, the lights flickered on automatically. Simple space. Clean. Reinforced steel-lined walls. Hidden compartments. Medical supplies. Weapons. It looked like it had been built for war.

“Welcome to one of my homes,” she said, voice flat, eyes scanning every corner.

Aiden dropped onto the worn leather couch, running both hands through his hair. “Jesus. I just wanted answers. Not a full-on assassination attempt.”

She peeled off her jacket, revealing the bloodstained rip in her sleeve. “That was the answer.”

He looked at her, jaw clenched. “They tried to kill me, Lyra.”

“And they failed,” she shot back, crossing the room. “Because I didn’t.”

The silence that followed was heavy. He watched her open a cabinet and pull out a small first-aid kit, then kneel in front of him like nothing about the last hour had been abnormal.

“Give me your arm,” she said.

He didn’t move at first. Just looked at her. “How many times have you done this?”

“Too many.”

She cleaned the scrape on his forearm in silence. Her hands were steady, clinical—but her eyes flicked up to his once, soft and tired.

“You okay?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel. I’m sitting in a bulletproof bunker with a woman I thought I loved. I still might. But I don’t know who you are anymore.”

She finished taping the bandage. Sat back on her heels. “You want to leave?”

He stared at her. “Would you let me?”

Her jaw tightened. “I’d drive you to the airport myself.”

“But?”

“But someone would follow you. Use you. Or worse, come after you again just to get to me.”

“And you’d kill them,” he said quietly.

She met his gaze. “Without hesitation.”

Aiden exhaled, leaned back against the couch, and let his head rest against the wall. “This isn’t the life I planned.”

“Neither did I.”

They sat there in the stillness, surrounded by silence and shadows and truth.

And for the first time, Lyra whispered—barely audible: “I’m scared too, Aiden.”

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