The private jet hummed softly above the clouds, slicing through the night sky at thirty-five thousand feet. Inside, the cabin was dimly lit, luxuriously quiet except for the steady rhythm of keystrokes echoing from Lucien's laptop.
Damien sat beside Ava, his gaze fixed on the encrypted files streaming across the screen. His jaw was tense, his eyes darker than usual, as if already preparing for war. Beside him, Ava didn't speak, her fingers clutching the folds of her coat tighter around her.
She had barely slept since the gala.
Since the moment her declaration had gone viral, the media had spun in every direction , some calling her brave, others calling her reckless. And now, the woman behind everything— Helena Vale , was trying to corner her in Berlin, under the illusion that she was still naive enough to fall into a trap.
But Ava wasn't the same girl anymore.
Not after everything Damien had shown her.
Not after everything she had survived.
"We land in forty minutes," Lucien said, glancing up. "Surveillance drones are already sweeping the outer perimeter of the decoy site. So far, no signs of a full security detail, but it's too clean. It's a setup."
"I know," Damien said coolly. "She wants us to think it's safe. That's the first trap."
Ava turned to him. "And the second?"
"She's expecting you to come alone. She doesn't know I've turned on her."
Lucien raised an eyebrow. "You sure about that? The woman's two steps ahead of most of us."
"She doesn't see Ava as a threat," Damien said quietly. "She still sees the pawn. Not the player."
Ava's eyes flicked toward him, the corner of her mouth twitching slightly. "Then let's change the game."
---
By the time they arrived in Berlin, the sun was just rising over the skyline, casting long, golden shadows across the rooftops. A sleek black car was waiting for them on the tarmac. Damien held the door open for Ava, his hand brushing against hers as she stepped in.
The contact was brief.
But it lingered.
As the car pulled away from the runway, Ava stared out at the unfamiliar city, her thoughts drifting to the last time she had been in Berlin. She had been nineteen, idealistic, still believing her father was a hero. Still believing her family was untouchable.
Everything had crumbled since then.
And now, she was back. Older, wiser, and ready to burn down the empire that destroyed her.
---
The safehouse was located in an old, remodeled art gallery—secure, inconspicuous, and already swept for surveillance. Inside, Ava paced while Damien coordinated with Lucien and the Berlin team. Her nerves were fraying, not out of fear, but anticipation. She could feel the storm building.
"Her decoy meeting is set for 9:00 PM tonight," Lucien said. "Warehouse district. She'll bring two of her security heads and a private legal proxy. No digital footprints. All clean, all off-grid."
Damien crossed his arms. "She's trying to cut a deal. Keep us quiet. Probably threaten Ava with more fake scandals if we don't drop it."
"She'll threaten more than that," Ava said. "She thinks if she scares me enough, I'll crawl back into hiding."
"But she's not the one holding the cards anymore," Damien murmured.
Ava turned to him. "Are you sure you're ready for this?"
There was a flicker in his eyes. "Are you?"
She stepped closer. "I have to be."
For a long beat, they just stared at each other. Then, without a word, Damien reached out and pulled her into his chest. Not with hunger. Not with dominance. But with something deeper. Something raw.
A shield.
A vow.
---
That evening…
Ava wore black. Sleek, structured, powerful. No heels. No jewelry. Her hair was pulled back tightly, every inch of her prepared for war. Damien stood across the room adjusting his cufflinks, dressed in a tailored charcoal suit that made him look like a walking weapon.
"Lucien will cover the perimeter with two teams," he said. "We go in alone. She needs to think we're vulnerable."
Ava nodded. "Let's give her the illusion."
As they left the safehouse, Damien paused, catching her hand just before she stepped into the elevator.
"If anything goes wrong—"
"It won't."
"But if it does…" He met her eyes, voice low. "You run. You don't wait for me."
Ava's lips parted, but no words came.
She stepped forward, cupped his face, and kissed him.
Not like a goodbye.
But like armor.
---
9:07 PM — The Warehouse
Helena Vale was already waiting.
She stood by a long steel table, draped in a faux diplomatic air, sipping from a glass of wine like this was a casual negotiation and not the center of a corporate conspiracy.
When Ava stepped into the warehouse, followed by Damien, Helena's eyes narrowed.
"Well," she said coolly. "Didn't expect you to bring your puppetmaster."
Ava's chin lifted. "I thought it'd be polite to introduce the man you tried to manipulate into destroying me."
Miranda chuckled. "You're still naive, Ava. You think showing up here makes you brave?"
"No," Ava said. "But it makes me ready."
Damien stepped forward, placing a folder on the table. "Inside is everything you erased from the Sinclair servers. Trial data. Paper trails. The original records."
Miranda's smile faded.
Ava added, "We recovered them. And we have backup copies distributed to three countries. You can't stop it now."
"You think this is a game of data leaks and dramatic speeches?" Miranda hissed. "You don't know what world you're walking into."
Damien's voice was cold as steel. "We've already been inside your world. And we're dragging you into the light."
---
Outside the warehouse, Lucien's voice came through the earpiece.
"Signal breached. Someone else is coming. A third party just entered the building through the north corridor."
Ava's heart skipped.
Damien's eyes flicked toward the shadows. "We need to move. Now."
But it was too late.
Gunfire exploded from the dark.