10. Chapter 10 （Noah）
The truth sits like lead in my stomach as I watch Olivia pore over the Damascus files.
We're in a safehouse Detective Grant arranged—a cramped studio apartment in Queens that smells like old Chinese takeout and regret.
It's a far cry from the cabin's comfort, but right now, anonymity matters more than luxury.
"This can't be right," Olivia mutters, her fingers tracing the lines of text on her laptop screen. The blue light casts shadows under her eyes, highlighting the exhaustion she refuses to acknowledge. "These shipment dates... they overlap with the hospital's research timeline."
I lean against the wall, keeping my distance even though every instinct screams to go to her. To hold her. To try explaining again. But I lost that right the moment Chen revealed my past.
"They used the hospital as cover," I say, the words tasting bitter. "Legitimate medical research up front, weapons development in the basement. Classic misdirection."
Her eyes meet mine, sharp despite her fatigue. "Like you?"
The question hits harder than any punch. "Yes," I admit. "Like me."
She turns back to the screen, but not before I catch the flash of pain across her face. It's been like this since we left the cabin—every conversation layered with double meanings, every revelation another wound we can't quite heal.
"Dr. Kazemi," she says suddenly. "The woman in the security footage. What was she really working on?"
My shoulder throbs where the bullet went in three years ago, a phantom pain triggered by memories I've tried so hard to bury. "She thought she was developing vaccines for refugee camps. Better delivery systems, longer shelf life. She had no idea they were weaponizing her research."
"But you knew."
"Yes."
"And you still—" She stops, her hands clenching on the laptop.
"Shot her?" I finish what she can't. "Yes. Because those were my orders. Because I was a good soldier who didn't ask questions. Because I thought I was serving a greater purpose."
"And now?"
"Now I know there are no greater purposes. Just people making choices. Bad ones, mostly."
She's quiet for a long moment, processing. I watch her think, marveling at how even now, even knowing what I am, she approaches everything with such fierce determination to understand.
"Show me," she says finally.
"Show you what?"
"Everything." She closes the laptop, turning to face me fully. "The whole operation. How it worked, how you fit in, how it all connects to Jessica. No more dripping information like breadcrumbs. I want the full picture."
"It's not pretty."
"Neither is lying to someone you claim to love."
The words hang between us like smoke, choking us both. I push off the wall, needing to move, to do something with the restless energy her presence always ignites in me.
"Marcus Randall recruited me straight out of the military," I start, pacing the small space. "Said he needed someone with my skill set for 'specialized security work.' What he really needed was a killer who could pass as a protector."
"Damascus was your first assignment?"
"No. Damascus was my graduation. The mission that proved I could handle the real work.
" I pause by the window, checking the street below out of habit.
"Chen ran the whole operation—weapons development, testing, distribution.
Randall was just the face, the respectable businessman who kept regulators off our backs. "
"And Jessica? Where did she fit in?"
My hands clench on the windowsill. "She was supposed to be routine. Watch the new financial investigator, make sure she didn't find anything she wasn't supposed to. Simple."
"But she did."
"She found everything." Pride and pain mix in my voice. "Every shell company, every hidden transaction. She was brilliant. Fearless. Reminded me of someone else I know."
Olivia's reflection appears beside mine in the glass. Not touching, but close enough that I can feel the heat of her body, smell the lavender shampoo she used this morning.
"What changed?" she asks softly. "Why did you start working against them?"
I turn to face her, needing her to see the truth in my eyes. "Because Jessica trusted me. Really trusted me, not just as her security but as a friend. And when I realized what they were planning for her..."
"You tried to save her."
"I tried and failed." The admission burns like acid. "I thought I could play both sides—warn her while maintaining my cover. But Chen... he knew. He always knew. The whole thing was a test, and I failed spectacularly."
"By choosing to help her?"
"By choosing too late." I run a hand through my hair, the memories threatening to drown me. "If I'd told her everything sooner, gotten her out before they were ready... But I waited too long, tried to gather more evidence, and they?—"
My voice breaks. Olivia's hand finds mine in the darkness, her fingers intertwining with mine despite everything. The touch anchors me, pulls me back from the edge of memories I can't afford to fall into right now.
"That's why you pushed me away at first," she says. "Why you tried to keep things professional."
"Fat lot of good that did." I squeeze her hand gently. "You have a way of getting past people's defenses, Olivia Blackwood."
"Past their lies, you mean?"
I wince, but don't let go of her hand. "I deserved that."
"Yes, you did." But there's less bite in her voice now. "So what changed this time? Why help me when you couldn't help her?"
The answer feels like jumping off a cliff. "Because I couldn't watch it happen again. Couldn't play their game anymore. Couldn't—" I stop, struggling to find the right words. "Couldn't lose someone else I care about."
"And the intel you've been feeding Chen?"
"Carefully selected. Enough to maintain cover while Detective Grant built her case." I pull her closer, needing her to understand. "Everything I've done since meeting you has been about keeping you safe. Even the lies."
"That's not your choice to make." She pulls her hand away, but doesn't step back. "I'm not Jessica, Noah. I don't need you to sacrifice yourself for me."
"No," I agree, reaching up to brush a strand of hair from her face. "You're not Jessica. You're the reason I finally found the courage to stop sacrificing and start fighting back."
Her breath catches at my words, and for a moment, I think she might actually forgive me. But then her phone buzzes, shattering the moment.
"It's Jackson," she says, checking the message. Her face pales. "Noah..."
I'm already moving, reading over her shoulder: Marcus Randall is dead. Found in his office an hour ago. GSW to the head. Need you both back at the paper. Now.
"It's starting," I mutter, already gathering our gear. "Chen's cleaning house."
"You think he killed Marcus?"
"I think Marcus outlived his usefulness." I check my weapon, muscle memory taking over. "Just like Dr. Kazemi. Just like Jessica. Just like everyone who knows too much."
"We can't just run to the paper," Olivia protests, but she's already packing her laptop. "It could be a trap."
"Of course it's a trap." I toss her the bulletproof vest I've been saving for emergencies. "But Jackson's right—we need to go. Marcus's death changes everything."
"How?"
"Because he kept records." I help her adjust the vest, my hands lingering longer than necessary. "Insurance, in case Chen ever turned on him. Files that could bring down the whole operation."
Understanding dawns in her eyes. "And now that he's dead..."
"Those files are our only shot at proving everything." I grab our go-bags, already planning routes in my head. "But we're not the only ones who know about them."
"Chen will be looking too."
"Which is why we need to move. Now." I reach for the door, but Olivia catches my arm.
"Noah." Her voice stops me cold. "If we do this—if we go after those files—I need to know you're with me. Really with me. No more secrets, no more playing both sides."
I turn back to her, taking in every detail of her face—the determination in her eyes, the slight tremble in her jaw, the way she faces danger head-on even when she's terrified.
"I'm with you," I say quietly. "All the way. No matter what it costs."
"It might cost everything."
"Already lost everything once." I cup her face in my hands, memorizing the feel of her skin under my palms. "Not losing you too."
She leans into my touch for just a moment, then pulls away. "Then let's go find those files before Chen does."
We move through the pre-dawn streets like ghosts, taking every precaution I know. The city is waking up around us, oblivious to the war being waged in its shadows. Oblivious to the weight of what we're about to attempt.
Olivia's hand finds mine in the darkness of the subway car, her grip tight enough to hurt. I squeeze back, offering what comfort I can while scanning for threats.
"Tell me something true," she whispers as we approach our stop.
I look at her, this fierce, brilliant woman who's turned my whole world upside down. "I love you," I say simply. "That's the truest thing I know."
She doesn't say it back. Maybe she can't, not yet. Not with all the lies still between us. But she doesn't let go of my hand either, and right now, that's enough.
It has to be enough.
Because the next stop is Jackson's office, and after that... after that, nothing will ever be the same.
The newspaper office looms ahead like a fortress of glass and steel, its windows dark except for the newsroom on the fourteenth floor. Through the pre-dawn gloom, I spot at least three surveillance positions. Chen's people are already here.
"Back entrance," I murmur to Olivia, guiding her toward the service alley. "Stay close."
"I know how to enter my own office building," she says, but there's no real bite in her words. We're both too focused on what's waiting inside.
The service door's lock gives way under my picks. Olivia watches my hands work with an expression I can't quite read—somewhere between fascination and fear.
"You've done this before," she says. Not a question.
"Yes." I hold the door for her. "The night Chen ordered me to plant bugs in Jackson's office."
She freezes halfway through the doorway. "You bugged Jackson's office?"
"And then told Detective Grant exactly where to find them." I usher her inside, scanning for movement. "Had to maintain my cover while building the case against Chen."
"How long have you been working with Grant?"
"Since Jessica." The service corridor stretches ahead, emergency lights casting everything in sickly green. "She was the only one who believed me about Chen's operation. The only one willing to play the long game."
We take the service elevator to thirteen, then climb one flight to avoid the cameras I know are watching the main elevator bank. Olivia moves silently beside me, all those late-night training sessions paying off.
The newsroom is empty when we enter—too empty. No security guard at the desk. No cleaning crew. Nothing but humming computers and the faint smell of old coffee.
"Noah." Olivia's voice is barely a whisper. "Look."
Jackson's office door stands ajar, light spilling onto the carpet. As we watch, a shadow moves across the gap.
I draw my weapon, motioning for Olivia to stay back. She ignores me, of course, pulling out her phone and holding it ready to record.
We approach the office together, my heart pounding with a rhythm I know too well. The rhythm of approaching death.
"Mr. Wells," a familiar voice drifts through the gap. "I'm disappointed. I expected Marcus's files to be better hidden than this."
Chen.
Olivia's hand finds mine, squeezing once.
I squeeze back.