Chapter 18
Selina
Specter came in, leaving wet footprints on the thin carpet. Water dripped from his clothes. His hair was plastered to his forehead. His face had gone pale from the cold, his nose raw, exhaustion carved into the lines by his eyes.
For a beat, we just stared at each other. Relief hit hard, then heat climbed after it.
“Where the hell have you been?” My voice came out rougher than I meant.
He peeled off his soaked coat. “Surveillance ran long.”
“Four hours with no word? I was about to call Damon and tell him you’d been taken!”
Specter hung the jacket over the radiator. “Couldn’t risk communications. Found something interesting, though.” He looked up, finally taking in my face. “You were worried.”
“Worried? I pictured you captured, tortured, or—” I cut myself off.
“I’m fine.” He shoved wet hair back. “The warehouse is barely guarded. Emergency skeleton crew from Oblivion, but mostly civilians walking in and out. It’s an opportunity, Selina.” His voice sharpened. “One we can’t waste. I need to go back tonight before they tighten security.”
“Tonight? Are you insane? Look at you.”
He glanced down at the puddles around his feet.
“You’re soaked. You’re trembling. Your ribs aren’t healed and”—I grabbed a towel and threw it at him—“and you’re swaying.”
He caught the towel with one hand. “I’ve worked under worse.”
“Well, I haven’t.” The words came out like a warning. “And this isn’t an operation, it’s a suicide mission. You haven’t even eaten.”
I yanked the towel back and scrubbed at his hair, the caretaking at odds with the anger working through me.
“You have injuries.” My voice slid into my doctor cadence. “Sleep-deprived, possibly on the edge of hypothermia, and I still haven’t done a proper exam because you won’t let me. Damon said to wait for backup.”
“Damon isn’t here.” Specter stood still under my hands, watching me with that steady, unreadable look. “I am. And right now, we have an advantage that won’t last until morning.”
I finished with the dark strands. They stuck up in messy angles. It should have made him ridiculous. It didn’t. It made him look human.
I kept my voice low. “Tell me what you found that’s worth this.”
“The civilian badges are old, three versions behind what Oblivion usually runs. They’re rushing. Cutting corners.”
“Or it’s a trap.”
A faint smile touched his mouth. “Could be. But I know Oblivion. Traps are careful. This smells like panic.”
I moved to the kitchenette and filled the electric kettle. “You need to warm up before you go anywhere.”
“Selina—”
“That’s non-negotiable.” I set the kettle on its base harder than necessary. “You want to walk back into danger? Fine. But you’re putting something hot in your system first.”
He didn’t argue. That worried me more than anything. Specter always pushed back. Silence meant he was conserving energy.
“We agreed to trust each other.” I softened my tone. “That includes trusting me when I tell you you’re in no condition to do this.”
“I do trust you.”
The kettle started to hum. I kept my back to him so he wouldn’t see what those words did to me.
“If I didn’t trust you, I wouldn’t have gotten these.”
I turned. He held up two flip phones, cheap burners with earpieces.
“What are those for?”
He set them on the table. “You. And me.”
Understanding hit, cold as a knot under my ribs. “You never planned to wait for Damon, did you? This whole argument was just… theater.”
“Not theater. But yes, I made the call.”
“Without me.” The hurt in my voice surprised both of us.
He stepped closer. “For you. These will keep us connected.”
The kettle clicked off. I ignored it.
“That’s still you going in alone. And me stuck here if something goes wrong.”
“I won’t be alone.” He touched my arm; his fingers were cold through my sleeve. “You’ll be with me every step.”
“Through an earpiece? That’s not the same, and you know it.”
His hand slid down and caught mine, thumb brushing my knuckles. “I know you’re worried…”
“Don’t.” I pulled free. “Don’t manage me.”
Something flickered in his gaze—annoyance, maybe respect. “Then what do you want me to say? That I’ll wait? That I’ll let this window close because of a few cracked ribs and some shivers?”
“I want you to admit this isn’t only about the mission.” The words burst out. “You’re pushing because the more time we have, the more you have to think about what we might find.”
His face shut down. “That’s not—”
“It is.” I stepped in, refusing to give him room to retreat. “You’re scared of what you might remember. Of who you were. So you’re rushing in half-dead from exhaustion instead of giving yourself time to steady.”
“What I feel doesn’t matter,” he said, voice flat. “The mission—”
“Stop it.” I pressed a hand to his chest—careful of his ribs, firm enough to land. “Stop hiding behind the mission. Stop pretending you’re just a weapon. If you’re going to do this, fine, but be honest about why.”
For a second, I thought he’d walk out. His body went rigid, his face blank. Then a crack formed in that mask.
“What if I remember something I can’t live with?” he asked, so quiet I almost missed it. “What if I find out I’m someone you can’t—” He cut himself off.
My anger drained. “Can’t what?”
“Someone you can’t trust.” I heard the thing he didn’t say: someone you couldn’t love.
I put my palm against his cheek. His skin was still cool.
“I told you I don’t believe in broken people. I meant it. Whatever we find, we face it together. But you have to be alive for that.”
He covered my hand with his. “I need to do this tonight.” Not a command. A request. “It’s our best shot. I’ll be careful. I’ll keep the line open.”
I searched his face: exhaustion, resolve, the fear he tried to bury. I knew I couldn’t stop him. Maybe I shouldn’t.
“Okay.” I nodded once. “But first, you eat and change into dry clothes. And you take these.” I pulled two pain pills from my bag. “Non-negotiable.”
He nodded. “Deal.”
I made packet soup while he changed, my hands unsteady as I stirred. He came out in dry clothes, hair still damp but no longer dripping. I handed him the bowl.
“Eat. All of it.”
He sat and did as told, watching me while I checked the burners.
He spoke between spoonfuls. “They’re clean.”
“Where did you even get these?”
“Convenience store three blocks east. No cameras. Cash only.”
“Of course.” I shook my head. “And you just knew where to find it.”
The corner of his mouth ticked.
I turned one handset over. “How does this work?”
“I’ll keep the line open. You’ll hear everything. I’ll tell you what I see.”
“And if something goes wrong?”
“It won’t.”
“Specter.”
He set the spoon down. “If it does, you call Damon. Tell him everything. Then you stay put until he gets you.”
“I’m not leaving you.”
“Yes, you are.” No room for debate in his tone. “If I’m compromised, you’re no help to me captured or dead. You get out with Damon.”
I wanted to argue, but it was sound. We both knew it. “Fine. But that isn’t happening, got it? You’re going in, getting what we need, and returning.”
“Yes, ma’am.” The ghost of a smile.
I slid into the chair across from him and watched him finish the soup. His color was better. The tremors had eased. When he set the empty bowl aside, I reached for his hand.
“I’m still not happy about this.”
“I know.” He turned his hand and laced our fingers. “But it’s the right move. We need to know what’s in that warehouse.”
“Promise me you’ll be careful. Actually careful. Not operative careful.”
His thumb moved slow circles on my palm. “I promise.” He lifted our joined hands and brushed a kiss over my knuckles. “I’ll come back to you, Selina.”
Something in me pulled hard. This was the man under the conditioning—the one who could hold me like I mattered and plan a break-in in the same breath.
“You better. Or I’ll have to come after you myself.”
His eyes darkened. “Don’t even joke about that.”
“Who’s joking? If you think I came this far to lose you now, you don’t know me.”
He stood, pulled me up, and brought me in. I went without fighting it, pressing my face to his shoulder. He smelled like hotel soap.
“I do know you,” he said into my hair. “Better than I know myself sometimes.”
With a reluctant breath, I stepped back.
“Your jacket’s still soaked.” I nodded at the dripping outerwear. “You’ll freeze out there.”
He zipped up the black hoodie and checked his watch. “Not a problem.”
“It’s barely above freezing, and you’re going to be still for hours. You need—”
He glanced toward the hall, a quick, mischievous look in his eyes. “I saw a spare on a doorknob a few doors down. Perfect.”
I stared. “You’re going to steal someone’s jacket?”
“Borrow.” His mouth twitched. “I’ll return it.”
“In what condition?”
“Better than I found it.”
Despite everything, my mouth tugged up. “How’s that?”
“The owner will appreciate it more once they realize it went missing.” He checked the second phone’s battery. “Besides, it’s a hideous parka. I’m doing them a favor.”
I laughed. It startled both of us. “That’s terrible.”
His smile flashed for real, brief and bright. “We all make sacrifices for the mission.”
My amusement faded. The reality of where he was going settled back in. He noticed and set down the phone, stepping closer.
“Hey.” He touched my arm. “We’ve been over this. I’ll be fine.”
“You don’t know that.” My voice shook.
His hands came up to frame my face. “Selina. Stop.”
I closed my eyes and leaned into his warmth.
“You trust me, right?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Then trust me to do this. Trust me to come back.”
His thumb slid across my cheek.
“How long will you be gone?” I asked.
“I can’t be sure.” He stepped back and reached for the earbud. “I’ll keep the radio open.”
I nodded. “Okay. But if anything—and I mean anything—feels off, you stop. Promise me.”
“I promise.” He tucked the earpiece into his pocket. “I’ll put it in once I’m clear of the hotel and call you.”
It was happening. He was leaving. I’d be waiting and listening, useless if something went wrong. The thought turned my insides.
I watched him gather his gear, double-check the room’s security, and head for the door.
Before he could reach it, I caught his arm and pulled him back to me. His eyes widened. I rose on my toes and kissed him. Hard. Not a goodbye. Orders to return. My fist caught the front of his hoodie and held.
When we broke apart, my breath was uneven. I pressed the second earbud into his palm and folded his fingers around it.
“Don’t you dare die on me,” I said, my voice rough. “I won’t forgive you.”
His smile was small and real, his eyes softer than I’d ever seen them. “Yes, Doctor. I’ll follow orders.”
I let out a shaky laugh. “Since when?”
He brushed his thumb over my bottom lip. “Since they started coming from you.”
We held on a second longer. Then he gently eased free and slipped into the hall. The door closed with a soft click that landed too loud in the quiet.
I stood where he left me. The room felt colder. Emptier. I looked down at the phone in my hand, my line to him for the next few hours.
At the window, I pulled the curtain back a sliver and watched the street. Five minutes later, he stepped out of the hotel in a bulky brown coat that was, in fact, spectacularly ugly. Despite everything, I smiled.
I waited until he disappeared, then slid in my earbud and brought the burner close.
“Testing, one, two, three…” I kept my voice steady.
Silence stretched for three long seconds. Then his voice came through, clear and close.
“I hear you.” The connection was clean, like he was right beside me. “And Selina? I will always come back.”
Something eased in my chest. “You better.”
I moved to the bed and sat on the edge. The next hours would be hell: listening to his breathing, catching sounds I couldn’t interpret, stuck here with nothing to do. But it was better than nothing. Better than silence.
“Tell me what you see.”
“Not much yet. Heading east through the old town. No tails.”
I closed my eyes and pictured him on Zagreb’s narrow streets, always scanning. “The coat looks ridiculous, by the way.”
A quiet laugh. “Functional matters.”
“Says the man who stole it because it was ugly.”
“Borrowed.”
“Fine. Borrowed.” I pulled my knees up and wrapped an arm around them. “How are your ribs?”
“Manageable.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only one you’re getting.” A pause. “Seven-minute mark. Still clear.”
I settled into his rhythm, counting the spaces between his updates, listening to the breath that told me he was still there. Ten minutes. Fifteen. Twenty. With each one he moved farther away, deeper into danger. I sat in a cheap hotel room, hands empty.
“Approaching the industrial district,” he said, voice lower. “Less foot traffic. More cameras.”
My grip tightened on the cell. “Be careful.”
“Always am.”
I almost smiled. Careful wasn’t the word anyone would pick for him.
“I’m going to go radio silent for a few minutes. Need to slip past some checkpoints.”
“Understood,” I said, even as every part of me wanted to tell him no.
The line went still except for the faint sound of him breathing. I counted. One minute. Two. Three.
“Still with me?” His voice came back, low.
“Always.” My shoulders eased.
For the next hour, I listened. He moved through the city like he belonged there, voice calm, sometimes tighter when he had to change course or when he spotted a problem. I tracked every shift.
His voice returned at last. “I have eyes on the target. Looks the same as before. Minimal security. Bare-bones staff.”
I sat up straighter.
“East side has a loading dock with bad camera coverage. I’ll go in there, then move to the central office.”
“And if someone sees you?”
A beat. “Let’s hope they don’t.”
“Specter—”
“I’m in position. Going silent until I’m inside.”
The line went hush. Blood roared in my ears. I stared at the burner like I could pull his voice out by force.
“Please,” I whispered to the empty room. “Let him return to me.”