Chapter 10
10
NICK
C herise is still asleep, her body curled against mine, her breath slow and even. I should move. I should get out of this bed. I have things I should be doing, but I can’t. Not yet.
Her scent lingers on my skin, a mixture of her natural sweetness and the remnants of our night together. My arm is draped over her waist, my hand resting possessively against her belly. She’s warm beneath my touch, her body relaxed in a way I haven’t seen since she walked back into my life.
I hate how right this feels. This is exactly the type of distraction I can’t afford.
My fingers tighten slightly against her skin before I force myself to pull away. I roll out of bed, careful not to wake her, and grab my pants from where they were discarded on the floor. My movements are controlled, efficient, and I’m fully dressed before I allow myself to glance back at her.
She’s asleep. Finally. Her breath is slow and even, the curve of her body curled toward where mine was like she trusts I’ll still be here when she wakes.
That’s what terrifies me.
The room is quiet, but my mind isn’t. I should be scanning intel, finalizing the next steps, reviewing risk variables—but all I can do is stare at her. Memorize the curve of her jaw, the barest furrow in her brow that never quite disappears, even in sleep. Like some part of her never stops bracing for a fight.
I drag a hand down my face and exhale slowly, careful not to wake her. Because if she opens her eyes, I’ll lie. I’ll tell her I’m fine. That she belongs here. That this is a mission like any other.
But it isn’t. She isn’t. And that’s the problem.
She makes me hesitate. Not in the field—not yet—but in my head. I find myself accounting for her in every exit plan, every breach strategy, every goddamn worst-case scenario. I’ve never operated with that kind of variable. I’ve never let anyone be that variable.
It’s not her fault. Hell, she’s stronger than most operatives I’ve worked with. Sharp. Resilient. She knows what we’re up against and hasn’t blinked once.
But I have. Quietly. When she’s not looking.
Because if something happens to her… I won’t be able to compartmentalize it. I won’t be able to lock it in a box and keep moving—that makes her the most dangerous thing in my world.
I whisper it into the dark, like whispering it makes it less real.
"You being here... it changes everything."
She shifts slightly on the bed, lashes fluttering against her cheeks, but she doesn’t wake.
I lean back against the wall, scrubbing a hand down my face, voice dropping to a whisper meant only for the dark.
"I don’t move the same," I admit. "I don’t think the same. Every decision, every step—it’s not about the mission anymore. It’s about you."
The words feel raw in my throat, but I force them out, needing the truth between us even if she’s not awake to hear it.
"You’re not just part of the risk now, Cherise. You are the risk. You're the reason I’ll start second-guessing, the reason I might hesitate when I can't afford to."
I close my eyes for a moment, feeling the ache of it settle deep in my bones. I lean down, pressing a kiss to her shoulder, breathing her in. Vanilla and something that always manages to punch through the noise in my head. She smells like a memory. Like before.
Before war. Before Cerberus. Before I learned to disappear into shadows so deep, I forgot what daylight looked like.
She murmurs something unintelligible in her sleep and burrows deeper into the bed. I want nothing more than to get undressed and crawl back in beside her, allowing my arm to tighten around her. Possessive. Fierce. Fuck. I’m already too far gone.
But I shove that urge down, and I know—when she wakes, I won’t tell her any of this. I’ll keep moving like nothing’s changed. Because she needs strength, not conflict. Control, not doubt. She needs the Ghost.
But in this quiet moment, in this quiet space where no one can hear me fall apart, I let the truth bleed through: I love her.
And that love? It’s the most dangerous exposure of all.
Cherise is tangled up in something that’s bigger than either of us, and I’m in too deep to ignore the obvious. I have to keep her safe—even from myself.
I step out of the bedroom and into the living area, the safe house silent except for the faint hum of the security system. My laptop sits on the table, still open from the night before. The screen casts a dim glow against the shadows.
I don’t hesitate before pulling up the encrypted line. Logan answers within seconds.
“It’s bloody early,” Logan grumbles, his voice rough with sleep.
“It’s late,” I counter, already scanning the new data he’s uploaded. “What have you got?”
“Enough to make me rather glad it’s not my arse on the line,” Logan mutters. “We’ve tracked one of René’s secondary supply depots—a warehouse out in La Seyne-sur-Mer. Security’s tight, but nothing we haven’t danced through before.”
“Who’s running it?” I ask, my fingers flying across the keyboard as I pull up satellite images of the area.
“Charles Fortier,” Logan replies. “Vallois’ logistics manager.”
The name sends a ripple of recognition. Cherise mentioned him before, and he was in the surveillance reports Cerberus has compiled over the last few weeks. Fortier is more than just a logistics manager. He’s the one making sure René’s shipments get where they need to go without raising red flags, which means he’s valuable.
“We’ll need him alive,” I say.
Logan chuckles. “That’s the plan, isn’t it? In and out—quiet, quick, surgical. No fireworks unless absolutely necessary.”
I nod, already thinking ahead. “Get your team prepped. I want eyes on every exit and full control of their comms before we make a move.”
“Consider it done.”
Logan hesitates for a moment before adding, “There’s something else.”
I glance at the screen. “What?”
“Interpol,” he says, his voice turning grim. “We’ve been tracking internal activity, looking for any unusual access points in their database. Someone’s been pulling files—covering Hector’s tracks, rerouting intelligence reports and whoever it is, they have high-level clearance.”
I go still. Shit. Interpol’s got a mole.
It shouldn’t surprise me. Corruption isn’t new, especially in a system as large as Interpol. But if someone on the inside is protecting Hector and René, it means we’re working against an enemy we can’t see yet, and that makes this entire operation twice as dangerous.
“Do you have a name?” I ask.
“Not yet,” Logan admits. “But I’m close. Whoever it is, they’re good—masking their activity behind dummy accounts, rerouting signals through international servers, but they slipped up. There was a breach in one of Interpol’s restricted archives two days ago, flagged by an AI security system before they could cover their tracks completely.”
I pull up the log he just sent me, my eyes scanning the data. “What were they looking for?”
Logan exhales. “You.”
My fingers pause over the keyboard.
“What?”
“They accessed everything connected to you—Cerberus, Opus Noir, past missions, classified files. If I had to guess, I’d say they’re trying to find out how much you know.”
A slow burn of anger coils in my gut. This isn’t just about Cherise anymore. Someone inside Interpol is watching me , and that means they know I’m coming for them.
“Keep digging. I want that name, Logan.”
“You’ll have it,” Logan replies evenly. “But Nick… tread carefully. If someone with that level of clearance is shielding Hector, they won’t think twice about throwing you to the wolves to keep their hands clean.”
“Let them try,” I say, my voice cold. “I’m not so easily disposed of.”
I end the call, my mind already working through the implications. Whoever the mole is, they have resources and access to information I shouldn’t have to worry about. They’re playing a long game, manipulating Interpol’s system to shield Hector and René, and now they’re watching me.
I can’t afford mistakes, which brings me right back to the issue I’ve been trying to ignore.
Cherise.
I glance toward the bedroom door, still slightly ajar. The woman lying in that bed is a complication I don’t need, a distraction I shouldn’t allow. The problem is, I already have. She’s not just an asset. She’s not just a loose end I need to tie up. She’s Cherise—the woman who I walked away from to keep her safe. When I did, something shattered in me I never thought could break. The woman who, despite everything, still owns a part of me I can’t take back.
I close my eyes, inhaling deeply before releasing a slow, measured breath.
I can’t let her get in the way of this. I won’t. Because if I do, I might not survive what comes next… and neither will she.
* * *
The room is silent except for the rhythmic tapping of my fingers against the desk. Cherise sits across from me, curled into the corner of the couch, arms wrapped around herself like she’s holding something in. She’s been doing that since last night—since I took her, claimed her, made her mine again in ways I never should have allowed. She never should have allowed. I’ve had years of training in D/s and I never play with newbies or tourists. My guess is Cherise is both.
Now, I have to be the one to draw the lines. I shouldn’t have touched her. I shouldn’t have let her get back under my skin. But fuck if I don’t want to do it again.
She shifts slightly; her gaze flicking toward me before darting away. She knows I’m watching her. She always does.
“We need to talk,” I say, keeping my voice steady, controlled.
She rubs her arms like she’s cold, but I know better. She’s bracing for whatever I’m about to ask. “About?”
“Hector’s inner circle. I need names, Cherise.”
She stiffens, just enough for me to notice. “I already told you about Fortier. And Sergei.”
“That’s not enough,” I say, leaning forward, resting my elbows on my knees. “I need to know who else Hector trusted. Who had access to classified intel? Who was in the room when deals were made?”
She shakes her head. “Hector was careful. He didn’t talk in front of me, not about real details. He had people, but he never let me see their faces if he could help it.”
“Did he ever mention names?”
She bites her lip, thinking. “There was one… Francois something. I never got his last name, but he worked with Hector a lot. I heard his name when Hector thought I wasn’t listening.”
I file the name away, already making a mental note to have Logan run it down. “Anyone else?”
Cherise hesitates.
I narrow my eyes. “Cherise.”
She sighs. “There was a woman. Juliette Morin. She was an attaché to some diplomat—Hector never said who—but she was always around when he came back from ‘business trips.’ She knew things, Nick. She wasn’t just some mistress.”
Juliette Morin. That’s a name I know.
I push up from my chair, pacing. “If she’s connected to the diplomatic channels Hector’s been using, we need to find her. Fast.”
Cherise nods, but she’s distant now, staring at nothing.
“Talk to me,” I say, softer now.
She blinks, like she’s remembering I’m here. “It doesn’t matter.”
I cross the space between us, crouching so I’m at her level. “Everything matters.”
Her eyes flash, something wounded hiding behind the walls she’s thrown up. “You really want to know?”
“Yes.”
The words seem to have to claw their way out. “You’re asking me to dig through the worst years of my life. To remember every moment I spent trying to convince myself that I wasn’t suffocating, that Hector wasn’t breaking me piece by piece.”
I inhale slowly, forcing my hands to remain at my sides. “Tell me.”
She laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “Hector never needed to hit me, Nick. He was smarter than that. He made me feel like I was nothing without him. Like I should be grateful he let me stay, let me breathe in his world. Every time I questioned something, he reminded me how easily I could be replaced. How I was just another accessory to him.”
My gut twists—the bastard.
“I lost myself,” she whispers, her voice shaking. “And I let it happen. I let him take me apart.”
I reach for her before I can stop myself, gripping her wrist, pulling her close enough that she has to look at me. “He didn’t take you apart, Cherise. He didn’t break you. You got out.”
She shakes her head. “I don’t feel like I did.”
I tighten my grip, just enough to make her feel it. “You’re here. You came to me. That means you fought your way back.” Her lips tremble, and I know she’s close to breaking. I lift her chin with two fingers, forcing her to meet my gaze. “He doesn’t own you anymore, sweetheart. He never did.”
She stills for a moment, and I think she’s going to fall into me. But then she straightens, pulling herself back together.
“I just… I don’t want to be that weak again,” she whispers.
I bite back a snarl. “You were never weak. Hector manipulated you. Controlled you. But he didn’t break you, Cherise. And I swear to God, I’ll make sure he never gets the chance to try again.”
A silence stretches between us, filled with memory and loss.
Then she whispers, “Why do you care so much?”
I freeze. Because I don’t have a simple answer to that question. Why do I care? Because she was mine, once. Because I spent years wanting her, only to realize that want was nothing more than grief in disguise. Because when she looks at me like this—like I’m the only person in the world who can make her feel safe—I know I’ll burn the world down to keep her from being afraid.
I lean in, my lips just brushing her ear. “Because you matter, Cherise. You always have.”
She shudders, and for the first time since she walked back into my life, I let myself believe she might actually learn to trust me again. I wonder if I can do the same. But trust won’t keep either of us alive.
I step back, running a hand through my hair. “We need to get moving. I’ll have Logan track down Juliette Morin. You stay here.”
She glares, fire flashing in her green eyes. “Nick...”
“No,” I cut her off. “This isn’t a debate, Cherise. You stay, you keep your head down and let me handle this.”
Her lips press into a thin line. “You think you can just decide that for me?”
“Yes.”
She shakes her head. “You don’t own me.”
I step into her space again, close enough to feel the heat radiating from her skin. “Don’t I?”
Her breath catches, and I see the war playing out in her eyes. She hates how easily I unravel her. But she loves it, too.
She swallows hard. “It’s not fair to use last night against me.”
I drag my fingers through her hair, letting them rest against the back of her neck. “You’re mine to protect.” She trembles. I lower my voice, my lips just brushing hers. “I will burn the entire world down before I let anyone touch you again.”