Page 19 of Beckoning Liam

With that cryptic warning, Marcus melded back into the fog, leaving Liam alone among the arches. The implications wereclear: his former agency might be compromised, and the ground beneath him was crumbling. The seductive dance of espionage had turned lethal, and his next steps would need to be both cautious and bold.

He withdrew into the darkness, the weight of impending danger winding around him like the coils of a serpent, squeezing too tightly for him to breathe. But Liam was no stranger to constraint, to the push and pull of power dynamics. His job was clear—protect Becks and stop the Wanderers. He would not fail, for in this shadowy world, it was dominance—of will, of mind—that spelled the difference between victory and oblivion.

He left, retreating to the safety of the small office suite they’d found earlier in the day. He’d left Becks there working away while he reconnoitered the area, met Marcus, and began to formulate a plan.

Liam's fingers traced the contours of the ancient script scrawled across the documents, the dim light of the office casting long shadows over his taut expression. Becks hovered at his shoulder, her breath against his ear as she peered over the cryptic papers that now pointed them toward Istanbul.

"Can you make anything out of these?" Liam's voice was a low growl, the dominant timbre underscored by tension.

"Symbols, equations... They're similar, but not quite the same. I’m sure they’re leading us to Istanbul. There's something there we're not seeing yet." Becks' reply was measured, despite the quiver that betrayed her underlying unease.

"Then that's where we'll head." Liam's decision sliced through the uncertainty like a whip-crack in a hushed room, sharp and commanding.

The decision made, their course set, Liam knew there was one more bridge to cross before they could dive deeper into the shadows. He pulled his encrypted phone from his pocket, his thumb hovering over the contact for Cerberus. Trust had become a luxury they could no longer afford. It was hard not to trust those who had given him a home when he left MI6, but the risk was too great and the clandestine world into which they had been plunged could potentially be tainted.

"Going off grid," he murmured into the device after a brief connection, his message succinct, leaving no room for questions or doubt. "Trust is a currency spent. Contact when able." He ended the call.

"Are we ready for this?" Becks asked, her voice barely audible, her violet eyes seeking reassurance in the blue steel of Liam's gaze.

"Ready as we'll ever be," Liam assured her, the ghost of a smile playing on his lips, intended to temper the gravity of their situation. "I’ve got you in my corner. I like my odds at winning this game a lot more than theirs."

"Don’t they say the queen is the most powerful chess piece?" Becks asked, her newfound confidence in her abilities beyond the classroom lending strength to her words, infusing them with an undercurrent of erotic promise.

Liam smiled at her. “Don’t get too big for your britches, baby, lest I force you to surrender them to me.”

He chuckled as she blushed. Their bond, forged in the fire of shared danger and deepened by the roles they embraced within the lifestyle, had become their anchor. As they prepared to step into the unknown, they drew comfort from the certainty of their connection, the trust between them absolute, unshakeable—a rare thing in the treacherous game they were about to play.

With a final glance at the office that had revealed so much yet held back even more, Liam took Becks' hand, their fingersintertwining, and led them away from the safety of known territory into the night's embrace.

The plane engines hummed low and steady, the sound amplified as Liam leaned back in his seat. They’d been in the air for nearly an hour, yet he could feel the tension thickening around him and Becks like a tightening net. Their flight to Istanbul was supposed to be quick, with one simple connection, but as soon as he’d seen that familiar sharp-nosed face boarding in Berlin, his instincts had kicked into high alert.

Becks was next to him, pretending to study the in-flight magazine. She turned a page, her fingers steady but her eyes flicked sideways, barely meeting his. “You recognize him, too. I swear I’ve seen him before. Do you think he’s after us, or am I getting paranoid?”

Liam chuckled softly. “You are, but sometimes paranoia is the only thing that keeps you alive. That guy was in Paris, and he was watching us back at the gate, too.”

Becks pressed her lips into a thin line, and her gaze scanned the cabin ahead. “You think he’ll make a move here or wait until we land?”

“Depends how desperate he is,” Liam replied, casting a quick glance down the aisle. Their suspected tail had taken a seat near the back, close to the lavatories—positioned, Liam noted, with a clear view of them.

“Do you think he’s looking to intercept us before we touch down in Istanbul? Or maybe he’s waiting for backup…” He could hear the tension in Becks’ quiet voice.

Liam leaned toward her, voice barely audible. “Either way, I don’t plan on waiting to see what he’s going to do or giving him achance to do anything else. Just like chess, there’s an advantage to moving first.”

Becks nodded, her eyes flicking to the stewardess as she passed, handing out drinks with a forced smile. Liam watched as Becks casually accepted a bottle of water, then glanced at her watch, her tone switching to something almost playful.

“So,” she said a little louder, “how long do we have until we’re wheels-down?”

Liam checked his own watch, catching her meaning. “Another hour. Plenty of time to stretch our legs.” His eyes shifted meaningfully toward the aisle, and Becks smiled, a hint of mischief in her eyes.

When the drink service had moved up several rows, Liam leaned toward her, his voice low again. “We move to the back, act casual. We’ll get a read on him.”

Becks gave a subtle nod, and as Liam unbuckled, she did the same, both rising under the guise of stretching and heading toward the rear of the cabin. The aisle was narrow, and every step brought them closer to their mark. He could feel the tail’s stare as they passed, and he saw him shift, his gaze sharp and assessing.

They stopped just in front of him, pretending to wait for the lavatory. Becks turned, casting a sidelong glance at the man, her voice light but loaded. “Need the restroom?”

The man’s eyes met hers, and he smiled tightly. “No, this is my assigned seat.”

Liam’s gaze narrowed. The man stiffened, caught off guard.

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