Chapter 57
2435words
Lucian Sinclair's Estate | Eli’d Bedroom
Eli hadn’t slept much.
Not for lack of trying. The bed was warm, the house was quiet, and yet—his thoughts refused to still. Morning light crept along the hardwood floor, pale and indifferent, like it had no idea what waited on the other side of the world.
The name alone stirred something in his chest—not fear, but a tight anticipation edged in memory. The last time he’d dealt with the Kessler Group, it had ended with veiled threats, a drawn weapon, and a lesson in how far powerful men would go to save face. He’d walked away without a scratch. But not without warning.
They didn’t forget people like him.
They didn’t forgive, either.
And now he was going back. With Kristina.
His head tilted back against the wall, jaw tight. A breath slipped between his teeth.
He’d said yes before she insisted on coming. Before Lucian confirmed it like it was already written. Before he’d had time to think about what it really meant.
It wasn’t the danger he minded.
Not really.
It was the possibility.
All the possibilities.
Of getting caught in something bigger than either of them could control. Of being forced to make choices with no clean outcome. Of seeing her hurt because of him.
Of seeing something between them shift—and not being able to shift back.
His eyes traced the ceiling. Quiet shadows danced across the beams. He was used to trouble. Used to walking into it. Starting it, even. But this—this was different.
This wasn’t just about walking into a room full of men who played power like a blood sport.
This was about Kristina being there when it happened.
This was about Kristina seeing him—really seeing him—if things went sideways.
He wasn’t sure which scared him more.
He scrubbed a hand through his hair, then let it fall against his chest. The space around him felt too still. Like it was holding its breath.
What if she got hurt?
What if he did?
What if they came back worse than they left?
Worse still—what if they didn’t come back the same at all?
Not because of bullets or broken deals.
But because of truths they couldn’t unsee once they surfaced.
He closed his eyes.
There were too many ways this could go wrong.
And not enough that felt safe.
And yet—he didn’t regret it.
Not when it came to her.
If this was how it had to happen—if this was the moment they stopped pretending, stopped standing still—then maybe it was overdue.
Still, he wasn’t ready. Not for the fight. Not for the truths it might uncover. Not for the ache of wanting something he wasn’t sure he could keep.
He’d protect her.
That part wasn’t up for debate.
But what if protecting her meant letting her see who he really was—unfiltered, unguarded, and not always good?
A knock came softly against the doorframe. Not rushed. Just… present.
Eli looked up.
Wrapped in a sweater too big for her, hair still damp at the ends, a mug of something warm cradled in her hands. She didn’t say anything at first—just looked at him with quiet eyes that saw more than they should.
“I was supposed to tell you,” she said after a moment. “Lucian wants us downstairs for breakfast. We’re going over everything after.”
She stepped inside, closed the door behind her, and the air shifted.
She was only here to deliver a message. That’s what he reminded himself.
But the way she lingered—quiet, unhurried—made something in his chest ache.
Maybe this was the calm before whatever waited on the other side of the world.
Or maybe it was something else entirely.
Eli nodded once, slow. “Thanks.” She didn’t turn to leave.
Instead, she took a sip from her mug and wandered toward the window, gaze distant. Like she was waiting—for him, or maybe just for the silence to settle.
He watched her for a moment. The morning light caught in her hair, softened the curve of her cheek, and it struck him—not for the first time—how much she carried behind her quiet.
He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood.
“Kristina,” he said.
She turned slightly, mug still in her hands.
He hesitated. Then: “You don’t have to go.”
Her brow knit, gently. “To Zurich?”
He nodded. “You don’t owe me that.”
“I know,” she said. No hesitation. No apology. Just truth. Then she added, more softly, “But I’m still going.”
He studied her. “Even after what Sebastian said?”
“That makes me want to go more.” She glanced away, voice quieter now. “I don’t want to find out something happened too late to stop it.”
Her fingers tightened around the mug. He noticed.
Eli stepped forward—just one step. Close enough for the air to change. Not close enough to touch.
“Then promise me something,” he said.
Kristina met his eyes. Steady. “What?”
“If anything feels wrong—anything at all—don’t hesitate. You pull back. You walk away. You run if you have to.”
She didn’t flinch. “I don’t run, Eli.”
“I know,” he said. “That’s what scares me.”
Their eyes held. Long enough that the space between words thickened.
Then, from the hallway—Ash’s voice, calling faintly: “Food’s getting cold!”
Kristina rolled her eyes, but didn’t move just yet.
“Breakfast,” she said eventually.
“Yeah.” He exhaled through his nose. “Strategy and sausages. Can’t wait.”
She started toward the door, then paused beside him.
And—just briefly—her free hand touched his arm. A small gesture. Not quite a promise, but close.
Then she was gone.
And Eli stood in the quiet again, wondering if Zurich would take something from them—or give something back they hadn’t expected.
Lucian Sinclair’s Estate | Briefing Room
Late Morning
The shift from casual to tactical was almost seamless.
Breakfast had ended with the clink of dishes and quiet exchanges. Now the same group sat around the long table in the east wing’s briefing room—familiar territory for most of them, but today, the air felt tighter.
Lucian stood at the head of the table, sleeves rolled to his forearms, eyes scanning a digital file open on the embedded screen. A second monitor displayed a clean layout of an office building—Zurich, labeled in the corner.
Kristina sat two seats from him, beside Eli. Her notepad was open, pen resting in the crease. She hadn’t started writing yet.
Sebastian leaned back in his chair, arms folded. Ash was half-slouched beside him, chewing on a toothpick. Vex had already dismantled one of the styluses and was absently spinning a magnet on the table’s surface.
Lucian spoke without looking up. “The Kessler Group reached out two weeks ago. Direct line through a third-party legal contact. They’re presenting this as a re-engagement—on cleaner terms.”
Eli didn’t move, but his voice was quiet and even. “They don’t clean up unless they want something.”
Ash raised an eyebrow. “Okay, but—if they’re the ones requesting a deal, why are we going to them and not the other way around?”
Vex nodded. “Right? You don’t almost shoot a guy and then expect him to shake your hand later.”
Kristina glanced sideways at Eli, but he didn’t look back.
Sebastian’s voice came steady. “So the real question is: why would they want to deal with us again? And why would we even think about dealing with them?”
Lucian finally looked up. “Because despite what they did last time, they see value in us. Which means they’re either desperate… or playing a longer game.”
Vex muttered, “Or both.”
Kristina leaned forward slightly. “Do we have anything they don’t? Access, leverage—what’s the angle?”
Lucian tapped the side of the tablet. “Tech. Field intel. Quiet networks. They’re not just after security contracts—they’re trying to legitimize a wider operation. They can’t buy subtlety, and they can’t build trust in-house. So they look for groups like us. Private, capable, controlled.”
“And not afraid to say no,” Eli added. His tone was sharper now. “Which they hate. That’s why the last deal broke.”
Lucian nodded. “Exactly.”
Ash tilted his head. “So what makes us think this time’s any different?”
“It’s not,” Lucian said calmly. “Not yet. That’s what Zurich is for. You’re not walking in blind—you’re walking in with leverage. But I want every angle mapped. Every name, every weak point. We go in knowing the terrain.”
“Speaking of terrain,” Vex said, dragging a second screen closer, “I ran a geo-risk assessment on the building. It’s a fortress. But we have three soft entry points if we need them—back service corridor, third-floor mezzanine, and a badly concealed side exit behind the freight lift. Just in case they get twitchy.”
Kristina raised an eyebrow. “Twitchy like… guns on the table twitchy?”
Eli’s eyes didn’t waver. “They posture first. Then they test—with words, or with weapons.
Lucian looked at her now. “You still sure about going?”
“Yes.” Her voice didn’t flinch.
He turned to the group. “Only Eli and Kristina are going. The rest of you stay here, but I want everyone in the loop before nightfall. Anything you need prepped, now’s the time.”
Ash stretched his arms overhead. “Well. Sounds like a party.”
Sebastian’s mouth tightened. “If this party goes south, you don’t come back with a hangover. You come back in pieces.”
Silence followed that.
Until Kristina finally picked up her pen. “Then let’s make sure we don’t.”
Lucian Sinclair’s Estate | Greenhouse Hallway
Kristina had stepped out before the others could catch her. She needed air—or space, at least. The estate’s greenhouse hallway was mostly glass and still. A corridor of filtered light and climbing vines, warmed by late morning sun.
Her footsteps slowed near the corner. She stopped.
Behind her: silence.
Until a familiar voice filled it.
“You really going through with it?”
She didn’t turn right away. Just let her eyes drift over the patterns of leaves against the glass.
“Yes,” she said simply.
Sebastian didn’t push. Just leaned against the frame of the open door, arms crossed, tone even.
“I figured you would. But I had to ask.”
Kristina turned slightly, enough to see him over her shoulder. “You don’t think I should.”
“I think you will,” he said. “That’s not the same thing.”
She stepped back from the glass and leaned against the opposite wall. “You’re worried.”
“Of course I’m worried. It’s Zurich. It’s Kessler. It’s you and Eli walking into something that already ended with a weapon on the table once.” He didn’t raise his voice. If anything, it dropped. “But that’s not what scares me most.”
Kristina’s brow furrowed. “Then what?”
Sebastian’s gaze held hers. “What happens after. Not just with them. With you.”
She didn’t answer right away.
“I’m not trying to break anything,” she said finally.
“I know you’re not. But not trying doesn’t mean you won’t.” His voice was softer now. “Just… be honest. With him. With Lucian. With yourself.”
Kristina looked down at her hands.
“I don’t want to hurt anyone.”
“I do believe you,” Sebastian said. “That’s what makes it harder.”
Another beat of quiet passed between them. The kind that came not from tension, but understanding.
Then he added, gently, “Whatever you’re starting to feel… don’t be afraid to let it take shape. Just don’t forget who’s watching. And waiting.”
Kristina nodded, slowly.
Sebastian pushed off the doorframe. “You’ll do what you always do—take care of everyone but yourself.”
A wry smile tugged at her lips. “That obvious?”
“Only to people who know you.”
He didn’t linger. Just nodded once, and turned down the hall.
She stayed there a while longer, watching the sunlight catch in the leaves. Thinking not just about Zurich—but what would come after.
Lucian Sinclair’s Estate | Lucian’s Study
The others had dispersed. Kristina and Sebastian had gone out shortly after the briefing. Ash and Vex trailed after them minutes later—off to the garage, probably, judging by the quiet thud of boots and Vex’s cackle echoing down the hall.
He later found Lucian where he always was after a briefing—alone in his study, standing by the tall windows that overlooked the snow-dusted field. No music. No distractions. Just silence and thought.
Lucian didn’t turn as Eli entered.
“She’s not going to stay behind,” he said, as if the conversation hadn’t stopped since breakfast.
Eli shut the door behind him. “I know.”
Lucian spoke again, calm as ever. “I thought about insisting.”
“Why didn’t you?”
Lucian turned then. Met Eli’s eyes with a steadiness that was unnerving only because it held no accusation. Just... truth.
“Because it would’ve insulted both of you.”
Eli exhaled through his nose. “She’s not afraid.”
“I didn’t think she would be.” Lucian stepped toward the desk, picked up a folded file, but didn’t open it. “But you are.”
That landed sharper than Eli expected.
Lucian didn’t press. He just set the file aside and looked up again.
“I’m not afraid for me,” Eli said finally.
“I know.” His voice was quiet. “You’re afraid of what she’ll see.”
Eli didn’t answer. He didn’t need to.
Lucian poured himself a measure of whiskey from the decanter near the corner shelf. “You’ve worked in shadows for so long, Eli. But she’s not blind. And she’s not easily shaken.”
“I know what I’ve done,” Eli said, jaw tight. “What I’m still capable of. I don’t want her caught in that fallout.”
Lucian studied him. “And if she chooses to be?”
Eli’s throat tightened.
Lucian didn’t look away. “You’re not the only one who’s terrified of what this could become. But I trust her. And I trust you.”
Eli swallowed. “You shouldn’t.”
Lucian gave the smallest smile—thin, tired, but real. “Maybe not. But I do.”
The quiet settled—heavier than the snowfall outside.
Then Lucian added, “She loves people with her whole heart, even when it costs her. You know that. But she also doesn’t leap without thinking. So if she’s going with you, it’s because she’s already decided she can handle what comes next.”
Eli’s voice was low. “Even if I can’t?”
Lucian walked around the desk and stopped in front of him. “Then you don’t let that stop her.”
Their eyes held.
It wasn’t permission.
It wasn’t a challenge.
It was something else. Something older. Weightier.
Trust with a knife’s edge.
Lucian reached for his glass. “You leave at six in the morning.”
Eli nodded once. Then turned to go.
Just before the door closed, Lucian spoke again.
“And Eli?”
He paused.
“If it comes down to it—bring her back safe.”
Eli’s hand tightened on the doorknob. “Always.”
Some choices don’t wait for clarity—they move with or without it.
—To be continued.
