The warehouse smelled of rain and blood two things that had become all too familiar in Alyssa Carter's life. She sat on the edge of a rusted crate, pressing the now-dried cloth against the wound on her arm, but the pain wasn't what kept her awake. It was the past the ghosts clawing at the edges of her mind, refusing to let go.
Dominic leaned against the opposite wall, his sharp gaze fixed on her. He had known something was different about Alyssa from the moment they met knew she wasn't just another journalist chasing a story. But he hadn't pressed, hadn't pried.
Until now.
"You hesitated back there," he said, voice low, measured. Not accusing. Just knowing.
Alyssa exhaled sharply, shaking her head. "It wasn't hesitation. It was recognition."
Dominic's eyes narrowed. "Of what?"
She looked at him then, really looked at him. The man who had stepped into her life like a collision course brilliant, ruthless, dangerous, yet somehow the only person who made her feel like she wasn't alone in the fight.
"Volkov's men," she said, voice quieter now. "I've seen them before. A long time ago."
Dominic didn't move, but she saw the shift in his expression the way his mind was already piecing the puzzle together. He had secrets, just like she did. But hers had been hunting her for years.
Alyssa leaned back slightly, the dim warehouse light casting shadows across her face. "I was eighteen when I learned what it meant to lose everything."
She could still feel it. The cold embassy hallway. The smell of ink and tension. The whisper of classified documents exchanged behind locked doors. And then gunfire.
"My father was murdered," she continued. "Not in a way the world saw. It was orchestrated erased. No record, no justice. Just a life wiped clean because he knew too much."
Dominic didn't speak. He just let her keep going.
"I didn't stop looking. I trained, I chased leads, I burned through years of my life trying to find who pulled the trigger." Alyssa exhaled, rubbing a hand over her temple. "And tonight, I saw a face I never wanted to see again."
Silence stretched between them. Heavy. Unyielding.
Dominic stepped forward then, closing the distance between them. "Who?"
Her gaze flickered hesitation, fear. Not fear of dying. Fear of remembering.
"Petrov," she whispered. "The man who killed my father."
The name hit like a gunshot.
Dominic's expression darkened. Petrov. Volkov's top enforcer. The same man hunting them now.
The air between them crackled with something new ..... not just attraction, not just tension. Understanding.
He reached out, fingers brushing her wrist, steadying her. "We'll end this."
Alyssa let out a sharp breath, almost a laugh, but it held no humor. "You make it sound so simple."
Dominic smirked slightly. "It isn't. But neither are we."
She looked up at him then, something flickering in her gaze. There were choices to make. Battles to fight. And for the first time in years, Alyssa realized she wasn't alone in this war. They had ghosts. They had fire. But most of all, they had each other.