Chapter 5 Ethan
Ethan
Iopen the file.
And everything shifts.
At first, it looks like data.
Names. Positions. Locations.
Nothing unusual.
Until I look closer.
“These aren’t random,” I say.
Ava doesn’t move from where she stands across the table.
“Keep going.”
I flip the page.
Then another.
Patterns start to form.
Not just people—
timelines.
Movements.
Public appearances.
Private routes.
Security rotations.
Every detail mapped out with precision that makes something in my chest tighten.
“This is coordinated,” I say. “Not isolated hits.”
“No,” Ava replies quietly. “It’s a sequence.”
I look up at her.
“A sequence for what?”
Her eyes meet mine.
“Destabilization.”
Yeah.
That tracks.
I scan the next page—
and then I see it.
A mark.
Small. Subtle.
Next to a name.
A red X.
Everything in me goes still.
I flip the page.
Another X.
Another.
“How many?” I ask.
“Two confirmed,” she says.
I look up.
“Confirmed?”
Her jaw tightens.
“I watched one happen.”
That lands.
Hard.
“How?”
Her gaze drifts for a second—like she’s seeing it again.
“Close range,” she says. “Clean. No panic. He was speaking one second…”
A beat.
“Dead the next.”
Professional.
Controlled.
I nod once.
“Second?”
“Poison,” she says. “Private event. No visible symptoms until it was too late.”
Different methods.
Same outcome.
Which means—
“They’re adapting,” I say. “Not repeating patterns.”
“They don’t need to,” she replies. “They already know where to strike.”
I spread the pages across the table.
Lay them out.
Start connecting the dots.
Locations.
Dates.
Movement windows.
“They’re not targeting strength,” I say slowly.
Ava steps closer.
Close enough that I feel her presence before I even look at her.
“Show me.”
I point to the first sequence.
“Eastern Europe. Then Western.”
Shift to the next.
“Then the Middle East.”
Another.
“Next—”
I stop.
Ava leans in, shoulder brushing mine.
My focus slips for half a second.
Then locks back in.
“What?” she presses.
I tap the page.
“North America.”
Her breath stills.
“They’re escalating.”
“Yeah.”
Bigger stage.
Bigger impact.
Global attention.
This isn’t just about killing people.
It’s about breaking systems.
Ava moves around the table, scanning faster now.
Her fingers hover over the pages like she’s memorizing everything.
“You’re missing something,” she says.
I glance at her.
“Am I?”
She taps a series of markings I hadn’t fully processed.
“These aren’t just targets.”
I step in beside her.
“Then what are they?”
“Access windows,” she says.
I narrow my eyes.
“Explain.”
She traces the timeline.
“These aren’t when they’re most protected,” she says.
Her finger taps one of the marked entries.
“They’re when they’re exposed.”
I follow the pattern again.
She’s right.
“They’re not attacking power,” I say.
“They’re attacking routine,” she finishes.
Damn.
I glance at her.
Really look this time.
“You’ve been inside this.”
Not a question.
She nods once.
“Long enough to understand how they think.”
That doesn’t sit well.
Not even a little.
I straighten.
Decision already forming.
“We don’t take this to anyone yet.”
Her head snaps toward me.
“What?”
“If this leaks,” I say, “every one of these people changes their routine overnight.”
“And that’s bad?” she asks.
“It is if we don’t know how deep this goes,” I reply. “We spook them, the network disappears. We lose everything.”
She studies me.
Calculating.
“You want to use it,” she says.
“Yeah.”
“As bait.”
“Always.”
A beat.
Then—
“Good,” she says. “Because so do I.”
Something shifts between us.
Not trust.
Not yet.
But alignment.
We’re on the same side now.
Whether we like it or not.
I gather the pages.
Stack them.
“We prioritize,” I say. “Closest target. Shortest window.”
Ava reaches into the file and pulls one page free.
“Already marked.”
I take it.
Scan.
Location. Time.
Less than twenty-four hours.
Of course.
“They move fast,” I mutter.
“They don’t need time,” she says. “They need opportunity.”
I look at her.
“You ready to move?”
She doesn’t hesitate.
“I never stopped.”
I believe her.
But as she turns—
I catch it.
A slight shift.
A wince she tries to hide.
Too small for anyone else to notice.
Not for me.
“You’re bleeding through the bandage,” I say.
She freezes.
Then looks back at me.
“I’m fine.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“I’m enough,” she says.
I step closer.
Again.
Always closer with her.
“You don’t get to decide that alone,” I say quietly.
Her eyes flash.
“Watch me.”
I reach for her arm.
This time—
she doesn’t pull away.
That’s new.
That’s dangerous.
I peel back the edge of the bandage just enough to see.
It’s worse than she let on.
Of course it is.
“You should’ve said something,” I mutter.
She exhales slowly.
“Didn’t have time.”
“Make time.”
Her gaze locks onto mine.
“And risk slowing you down?”
“That’s not how this works.”
“That’s exactly how it works,” she shoots back. “You keep moving. I keep up.”
My jaw tightens.
“Not like this.”
Her voice drops.
“Then how, Ethan?”
That question—
that tone—
hits deeper than anything else in the room.
For a second—
everything else fades.
No list.
No targets.
No mission.
Just her.
Standing too close.
Looking at me like nothing between us is finished.
My hand is still on her arm.
Her body still within reach.
Her eyes flick down—
to my mouth—
then back up.
Six months for her.
Eight years for me.
And neither of us knows how to stand in the same moment.
She pulls back first.
Smart.
Because I wasn’t going to.
“We save them,” she says, voice steadier now. “One by one.”
I nod.
“Yeah.”
Her grip tightens on the file.
“And we stop whoever’s behind it.”
My gaze hardens.
“Yeah.”
But this time—
it’s not just strategy.
It’s personal.
Because whoever built this list—
whoever set this in motion—
they didn’t just start a series of hits.
They started a war.
And now—
we’re in it.