22. Lyric
CHAPTER 22
LYRIC
There were more demonstrations. More horrors. But, by the end, there was still no sign of Sentinel.
Maybe it had been on that truck after all?
No, it couldn’t be that easy. And it was still listed for the auction as Lot Number Forty-Two.
Moreau was just saving Sentinel for his grand finale. I was sure of it. He was enjoying the theatrics of the night too much.
After the final demonstration, the room emptied slowly, the guests drifting back upstairs to the main ballroom, their conversations animated with fresh desire for the weapons they’d just seen. I made my way through the crowd, smiling at the right people, nodding at others, all while looking for a moment of space to process what we’d witnessed.
The terrace beckoned. Dark, quiet, away from the press of bodies and the constant performance. I slipped outside, the night air cool against my skin. The Mediterranean stretched before me, black and endless under a scatter of stars, while behind me, the party continued in a bubble of light and privilege. I knew I shouldn’t isolate myself, but I needed just a moment to breathe and collect myself so I could be Elisa again.
The terrace was modern, like the rest of the compound, all clean lines and polished stone. Subtle lighting illuminated the space just enough to navigate without spoiling the view. I leaned against the railing, letting the sea breeze cool my skin, which still felt flushed from the awful feeling of being trapped inside my own body.
I sensed his presence before I heard him and all of my senses prickled to high alert. I’d always been more fight than flight, but Nico Moreau triggered every primal prey instinct I possessed.
Run.
I stayed put.
“Admiring my view, Ms. Deveraux?” His voice was as smooth as the aged whiskey in his glass as he joined me at the railing.
I turned, offering him Elisa’s smile. “It’s breathtaking.”
He stood closer than necessary, his shoulder brushing mine. Behind him, I noticed his security personnel positioning themselves at the terrace entrance, effectively cutting off any interruption—or escape. Flynn was nowhere in sight. Neither were Decker or Trent. I was alone with Moreau and his men.
He sipped his drink. “What did you think of my little showcase?”
“Theatrical.”
“Yes, well, buyers are more willing to spend money when they know how valuable their shopping list actually is. Do you have a list, Elisa?”
I maintained my languid pose, though every nerve in my body was firing warning signals. “I never enter a marketplace without a shopping list, Monsieur Moreau.”
“And what’s at the top of yours, I wonder?” He leaned in, close enough that I could smell the whiskey on his breath. “The Ghoststep Cloak? The Neural Disruptor? Or are you still dead-set on Sentinel?”
“What if I want it all?”
His laugh sounded genuine.
“Ambition suits you.” His gaze lingered on my face, then dragged deliberately down my body. “But you’ll forgive me if I find myself... questioning your intentions.”
I arched an eyebrow. “Questioning?”
“A truck carrying my merchandise was sabotaged last night.”
My heart stuttered, but Elisa’s face showed only mild interest. “How unfortunate for you.”
He swirled the amber liquid in his glass. “Coincidentally, it happened right after I offered you the invitation to come here.”
“Are you accusing me of something, Monsieur Moreau?” I let just enough ice creep into my tone to remind him who Elisa Deveraux was supposed to be—wealthy, powerful, and not someone to be trifled with.
“Mm.” He took another sip. “You must understand my concern. Your documentation is impeccable, your references check out perfectly, and your financial trail is pristine. Too pristine.”
I turned to face the sea again, buying myself a moment to control my expression. “I pay good money for discretion.”
“As do I.” His hand settled on the small of my back, fingers splayed possessively. “Which is why I know there was a breach in the security system at my warehouse exactly twenty-three minutes before the truck incident. Right as Vidal was escorting you from my suite. We found a tracker on his phone.”
His hand was a brand through the thin fabric of my dress.
I forced myself not to flinch away. “Perhaps you should upgrade your security rather than harassing your guests with baseless accusations.”
His fingers tightened incrementally. “There are ways to regain my trust, Elisa.” The way he said my cover name made it sound like he knew it was false. “Starting with joining me in my private quarters before the auction begins. I find trust is best built in intimate settings, don’t you?”
He made it sound like an invitation. But there was nothing optional about it.
I calculated my response carefully. An outright rejection would insult him, potentially closing off my access to Sentinel. Enthusiastic acceptance would seem suspicious given Elisa’s previously established boundaries. I needed to navigate the narrow space between.
“That’s a very... direct proposition,” I said, letting a hint of appreciative surprise color my voice. “I hadn’t expected you to be so forthright.”
“I’m a man who knows what he wants.” His fingers traced up my arm to my collarbone. “And I think we could come to a mutually beneficial arrangement, you and I.”
I tilted my head, as if considering. “What would this arrangement entail, exactly?”
“You in my bed tonight, before the auction…” His thumb brushed the base of my throat. “…will assure me you had nothing to do with my security breach, and win you certain advantages during bidding.”
“Insider trading, Monsieur Moreau?” I raised an eyebrow, injecting just the right amount of playful reproach. “How scandalous.”
“Business and pleasure often mix well in my experience.” His eyes dropped to my lips. “What do you say, Elisa? Shall we explore what else we might... exchange?”
I placed my hand lightly on his chest, neither pushing him away nor pulling him closer. “You make a compelling case.” I let a smile play at the corners of my mouth. “But I never make important decisions in haste.”
His expression hardened slightly. “The auction begins at midnight.”
“And I still have hours to consider your generous offer.” I slid from between him and the railing, grateful to be out of the cloud of his cologne. “If you’ll excuse me, I should freshen up before making any... significant commitments.”
I could feel his frustration radiating like heat as I stepped away. This wasn’t a man accustomed to waiting for what he wanted.
“Don’t take too long, Ms. Deveraux,” he called after me. “Some opportunities are time-sensitive.”
I glanced back over my shoulder, offering a smile that promised nothing but suggested everything. “The best things are worth waiting for, wouldn’t you agree?”
His answering smile was tight. “My patience has limits.”
“As does my interest.” I turned and walked away, forcing myself to move unhurriedly, my hips swaying just enough to keep his eyes on me rather than on my hasty retreat.
I felt exposed with every step, my back crawling with the certainty of his gaze tracking me. I nodded to a few guests as I passed through the main ballroom, maintaining Elisa’s poise while scanning for Flynn. I spotted him near the bar, his eyes finding mine immediately. He was fuming mad. I gave him the barest head shake—not now—and continued toward the guest wing.
A security guard directed me to my assigned room, unlocking it with a keycard before handing it to me with a curt nod. “Mr. Moreau has arranged for your comfort. If you require anything, dial zero on the phone.”
The door closed behind me with a soft click. I engaged the lock and wished there was also a deadbolt, maybe a security chain. Only then did I allow my shoulders to drop, my breath escaping in a shaky exhale.
The room was luxurious. King-sized bed with silk sheets, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the ocean, and a bathroom that probably cost more than most people’s houses. It was also, I was certain, thoroughly bugged.
I moved to the bathroom, turning on the shower to create white noise, before pulling out my phone. I needed to contact the team, to warn them about Moreau’s suspicions, to figure out our next move.
I typed a quick, encrypted message to Ethan: “Moreau suspects me. Sentinel confirmed. Auction at midnight. Need backup.”
It didn’t go through.
“Fuck.” I erased the message and set my phone down hard enough to crack the screen, if it weren’t for its military-grade durability. There had to be signal jammers in place.
I stared at my reflection and, for the first time in my professional career, I hated that I didn’t see myself staring back. I scrubbed at the makeup, yanked at my hair until all the pins clattered into the sink.
I’d lied to Flynn earlier. I did know how to love, and that was the problem. I knew exactly how it felt to love someone so much that losing them tore you apart. I knew the cost of letting someone matter that much.
My sister’s face flashed in my mind. Elodie laughing, alive.
But she wasn’t alive. She was gone forever because I’d let my focus slip for one crucial moment.
I couldn’t make that mistake again. Not with Flynn. Not with anyone.
I steeled myself, tucking away anything soft, anything vulnerable. There would be time for feelings later, if we survived. Right now, I needed to be Siren.
Cold. Professional. Deadly.
Then I stepped into the shower, letting the hot water wash away Moreau’s lingering touch, along with any doubts about what needed to be done.