47. Killian
KILLIAN
I watch Ellie exit the room. She's losing weight, her collarbones sharp against her shirt.
Three weeks of this, and we're still chasing small fry.
Julian has given us safe houses in Prague and logistics for Dubai.
Enough to keep us busy, but he hasn't given us a single name that matters.
No coordinates for the main hub, and we're no closer to working out who Genesis is, or any of the other Order Originals for that fucking matter.
He's feeding us scraps to buy time, and every hour he sits in that chair is another hour we're vulnerable.
"He's smug today," she says, her eyes fixed on the monitor. When she moves the mouse, her knuckles brush my hand. The contact is nothing, but the heat of her skin makes my dick stir.
I nod. She looks like she hasn't slept in days.
Gabe is standing by the heavy steel door, his arms crossed. He's been watching the same feed for hours, his face a mask of bored aggression. "He isn't even pretending to be tired anymore. He's just watching the camera. He's too comfy for my liking."
"Let's see what we can get out of him," I tip my chin up to Gabe, and he's already following me.
The door closes behind us with a heavy click.
Julian sits strapped to the chair bolted to the floor, the bruising from our initial encounter faded to sickly yellows and greens, his hand wrapped in a fresh bandage courtesy of Kai.
His hair is greasy, flattened against his skull, and even through the smell of antiseptic, he carries the sour scent of a man who hasn't seen a shower in weeks.
"Two of you today?" Julian doesn't look away from the camera until we're halfway across the room. He looks rested. Too rested for a man who hasn't left a basement in three weeks. "The doctor is much better company, Blackthorn. She actually listens."
I set a cup of coffee in front of him. Black, no sugar, a small comfort we've allowed after he gave us the location of two Order safe houses last week.
"Her methods might be gentler," I reply, letting him see me glance at his bandaged hand, "but she sees just as much as I do."
He doesn't touch the coffee. Instead, he leans back, his eyes tracking me while Gabe stays silent by the door.
"Nothing more to share today?" I remain standing. "That's disappointing after yesterday's progress."
"Doesn't matter what I tell you anymore. They're already coming. You just don't know it yet."
Same lie he told Ellie, but I keep my expression neutral.
"Is that right?" I lean against the wall and cross my ankles. "And who exactly is coming, Julian?"
He smiles, the expression slow and humorless. "You have fragments, Blackthorn. The Order is a web. Every thread you pull only tightens the rest."
I circle him slowly, gauging his micro-expressions. "Yet here you sit, abandoned by your web. Three weeks, and no one has come for you."
"They will." His certainty is troubling. "When they do, I'll make sure Dr. Hart watches while they take you apart piece by piece."
My hand is wrapped around his throat before I consciously decide to move. I press enough to restrict his airflow without cutting it off completely.
"You don't speak about her." My voice is a low snarl, the professional exterior finally cracking.
Julian's eyes widen slightly, not with fear, but with satisfaction. He's been probing for weaknesses, and I've just confirmed one.
I release him and step back. "We're done for now."
I step into the hall. Kai is leaning against the desk, his eyes on the feed. He doesn't ask what happened. He takes one look at my face and backs off.
"Have Jackson take over," I say, my voice still tight with the urge to go back in and finish it. I walk past him to the strategy table and slam my fist into the wood. "Fuck."
The sound cracks through the hallway. Kai doesn't flinch.
"Check everything," I snap. "Every feed, every angle. Go back through the last week. Something's off... he's too fucking calm."
"You think they're actually coming?" Kai asks.
I look at the monitor where Julian is leaning back, eyes closed. "I think he's counting down the minutes. And that's reason enough to prepare."
The living room is buried under printouts and maps. We've turned it into a staging ground, the walls covered in the data Julian has been leaking piece by piece. It's a mess of glowing screens everywhere, humming with the low, electric drone of feeds we shouldn't have access to.
Ellie is hunched over one of the screens, her hair caught in a knot, her eyes bloodshot. She's pointing at a node in Eastern Europe, her voice quiet as she talks to Jackson. She's so deep in the logic of the network that she doesn't even hear me walk in.
I watch her for a second. Confident, brilliant, fully immersed in the hunt. She's picking through their network like she's been doing it her whole fucking life. It's the only thing keeping us from getting buried.
"Killian." She spots me and pauses mid-sentence. "What did he say?"
I cross over to her. Jackson doesn’t look up from his station, his focus staying on the monitor even as I reach her side.
"Same as you, he's convinced they're coming for him." I lean over the desk until the dry heat from the monitors hits my face. "Except he's stopped trying to find a way out. He's just sitting there like he's waiting for them to come."
Jackson still doesn't look up from his screen. "Nothing on the feeds. It's dead out there."
"Dead is what kills you," I snap. "Kai, get down there with Jackson. Do what you need to do to get anything useful out of Julian."
Kai nods, already moving. "On it."
"Gabe, get your ass outside. Walk the fence. Don't trust these fucking screens. Get eyes on the trees. If anything moves, I want to know before it reaches the porch."
Gabe doesn't argue. He grabs his jacket and heads for the door.
The door closes behind them all, leaving Ellie and me alone with the glowing screens and the silence of the house.
"You think he's telling the truth?" She steps closer, her shoulder almost brushing my ribs.
"I think he believes it." I trace a finger along the treeline on the map. "Whether they're actually coming is another question. But he hasn't looked this relaxed since we brought him in."
Ellie nods, her mind already moving. "We've gotten most of what we need, anyway. The network map is nearly complete."
"Nearly isn't completely." I tap three blinking nodes on the largest screen. "These facilities remain unidentified. And we still don't know who's running operations in Europe."
She turns to face me, the exhaustion visible in the way she holds her shoulders. "Then we push harder. Use what we know to fill in the blanks."
"Julian's done talking." I keep my voice low. "Whatever Kai and Jackson get out of him won't change what's coming. They're already in motion."
Ellie's gaze doesn't waver. "Then we prepare."
By midnight, there's nothing left to do. The house is as ready as it's ever going to be. Now, we're holding our breath, waiting for them to reach the tripwire, if they come at all.
I find her in the bedroom, the only space where the maps and files haven't yet reached.
She's at the small desk by the window, hunched over the blue glare of her laptop.
She's wearing the oversized grey t-shirt she stole from my bag and a pair of cotton shorts that barely cover her hips.
Her hair is a tangled mess, a few strands caught in the corner of her mouth as she gnaws on her thumb, her eyes tracking code I no longer have the patience to read.
My first thought is the way those shorts ride up when she leans forward.
I walk in and close the door, the click of the lock is the loudest thing in the room.
I watch the way her shoulders are hunched, the tension radiating off her in waves. "When was the last time you had some water, Ellie? Or a break that lasted longer than five minutes?"
She doesn't move. Her fingers keep tapping. "I don’t know. Everything I find just leads to another dead end. Without Genesis, or the other names, we’re waiting in the dark for them to arrive."
I reach past her and slam the laptop shut. The sudden darkness is immediate, the only light comes from the moon bleeding through the curtains. "Then let it go. For an hour."
I spin the chair around. Her knees part as I step between them. She's exhausted. I can see it in every line on her face. But the way she's looking at me right now has nothing to do with sleep. She’s ready to be pulled into the deep end, and she wants my hands dragging her down.
"I don't want to think," she says. "I’ve spent hours inside Julian’s head. I just need to be back in my own body for a while."
I fist my hand in her hair at her crown and pull her head back, forcing her to look at me. "Then stop talking about him."
Leaning down, I cover her mouth with mine, and she moans against my lips before I've even settled in. Her hands find my shirt immediately, pulling me closer. I'm already hard. I've been hard since she parted her knees.
I pull her up out of the chair and walk her back to the bed without breaking the kiss.
She goes willingly, her hands already working my buttons, shoving the shirt off my shoulders.
There's something about her impatience, the way she doesn't wait, that makes me even harder.
I'm already right on the fucking edge. I shove her onto the mattress and follow her down, pinning her wrists above her head.
She wraps her legs around my waist and grinds up against me. I can feel the heat of her pussy through the cotton shorts, and it nearly finishes me right there.
"Your turn," she says. Her voice is wrecked, and I haven't even touched her properly yet.
Stripping is frantic as I let go of her wrists. Jeans, boxers, gone in seconds. Control is a distant memory with the way she’s looking at me. Coming back down over her, I catch her fingers as they find the scar on my chest, pinning her wrist back above her head before she can distract me.