Page 88 of Ruthless

"Later," he promised, his voice lower than usual. The single word sent heat flooding through me, the promise behind it unmistakable.

Our eyes locked across the room, the air between us suddenly electric. For a moment, the funeral plans and Prometheus and danger faded away, leaving just us and the unspoken things that had shifted between us last night.

Lo cleared his throat dramatically. "Save the eye-fucking for after the funeral, darlings. I need doctor gorgeous focusing on not getting killed today."

We left the suite behind and moved through the Acropolis as a unit, Lo taking point while I stayed close to Vincent. Every nerve ending stood alert. The marble floors echoed under our footsteps, the air thick with the familiar scent of weapon oil, expensive cologne, and the subtle metallic undertone that seemed to follow professional killers everywhere.

The usual activity of the underground sanctuary continued around us, other assassins nodding as we passed. Word had clearly spread about our situation; sideways glances and subtle assessments from my so-called colleagues suggested they wondered if we'd return or if they'd collect the bounty on our heads by nightfall.

My muscles coiled tight each time another ferryman passed, spine straightening on autopilot while electricity buzzed under my skin. My focus narrowed.

Vincent moved beside me, his gait casual to any observer, but I could sense the tension radiating from his shoulders, his breathing slightly faster than normal. For all his composure, he clearly hadn't yet adapted to moving through waters filled with predators. I shifted closer, my arm brushing his in quiet reassurance.

As we approached the main exit, Charon materialized from behind his desk, elegant and imposing as always. "Checking out, Mr. Aleksandar?"

"Hold the room. We'll be back."

"Very well. Your biometrics will remain active." He turned to Vincent, slightly inclining his head. "Dr. Matthews. I trust your stay has been... educational."

Vincent managed a remarkably composed smile. "You could say that."

The Acropolis elevator ascended smoothly, carrying us toward the surface world where contracts bound us and death waited for the unwary. Vincent's hand brushed against mine, perhaps accidentally, perhaps not. I allowed our fingers to touch briefly, silently reassuring him.

"The moment we cross the river, we're fair game," I reminded everyone as the elevator slowed. "Eyes sharp, weapons hot, no unnecessary risks."

The doors slid open, revealing the sunlit world above. After weeks underground, the natural daylight hit harshly, almost painfully. I squinted, scanning our surroundings for immediate threats.

The riverfront appeared normal—tourists taking photos, businesspeople hurrying to meetings, street vendors hawking overpriced souvenirs. But certain details stood out. The man reading a newspaper on a bench, his shoes too expensive for his casual clothes. The woman adjusting her sunglasses, her posture too perfect, too aware. The maintenance worker sweeping the same spot on the sidewalk for far too long.

We made our way toward the black SUV parked at the curb. Diego leaned against it, sunglasses hiding his eyes, looking every bit the professional driver in a tailored black suit. He nodded slightly as we approached, opening the door without a word.

The nape of my neck tingled with the weight of too many eyes. The spring air carried exhaust fumes, the river's brackish scent, street vendor food, and beneath it all, the subtle tang of danger.

Vincent slid into the SUV's backseat and I climbed in beside him while Lo took the front seat. Diego slipped behind the wheel,adjusting his mirrors. As we pulled away from the curb, I watched the faces tracking our movement.

The hunt had begun. But this time, everything had changed. I wasn't just fighting for a contract or for my own survival. I was fighting for Vincent. For the future we might have if we survived this.

And nothing would stop me from keeping him safe.

The moment we crossedthe river, everything shifted.

It wasn't just the red dot that materialized on Vincent's window, though that sent ice through my veins. Time slowed as that dot settled on his forehead. Something in me switched off, or maybe switched on. The Luka who made jokes and ate gummy worms vanished. What remained was pure function: protect Vincent. Everything else became noise.

I yanked him down against me as the glass exploded inward. His body beneath mine was warm, alive, with his pulse hammering against my chest. Breathing, no blood, hands gripping my jacket.Alive. Keep him that way.

"CONTACT!" The word tore from my throat as Diego swerved hard. Tires screamed. Vincent's fingers dug into my shoulders, and some distant part of me registered the half-moons his nails would leave.Good. Mark me. Show me you're real.

"Rooftop, two o'clock!" Lo's voice, sharp and professional. Even he had dropped the theatrical flair.

"Better hold on to something," Diego warned, cutting across three lanes.

Vincent made a sound that was half laugh, half terror, his breath hot against my neck. "So much for low profile."

"Low profile died when we crossed the river." I kept him pinned beneath me, scanning for threats. The weight of him under my body registered in ways I couldn't process right now.File it away. Deal with it when he's safe.

Military-grade ammunition. The bullet had punched through reinforced glass, spiderwebbing the entire window before it shattered inward. Prometheus wasn't fucking around. He'd sent his best. My fingers closed around my Glock, muscle memory bypassing conscious thought.

Another shot punched through the roof, the bullet whizzing past Vincent's shoulder close enough to ripple his suit fabric. Too close. Too fucking close. My vision tunneled to a single point: keep him breathing.

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