Chapter 18
Zora
The moment Nico says those two words, every other sound around me seems to fade into the background. It's time.
For days, everything has been leading toward this. Every forced smile. Every lie. Every carefully rehearsed interaction. Every second spent pretending to be Lucien Moreau's fiancée while we quietly mapped the estate and searched for weaknesses.
Now the opportunity is finally here.
I force myself to take a slow breath. The hardest part isn't moving. It's not looking like you're moving with a purpose.
Panic gets noticed. Urgency gets noticed. And right now, the last thing Nico and I can afford is attention.
Without saying another word, Nico places a hand against the small of my back and begins guiding me away from the crowd.
His touch is light enough to appear natural, intimate even, but there is an unmistakable purpose behind it.
We move through the ballroom at the same leisurely pace we have maintained all evening, weaving between guests and servers carrying trays of champagne.
To everyone around us, we look like a couple seeking privacy. Nothing more. And nobody spares us a second glance.
The closer we get to the ballroom doors, the louder my heartbeat becomes. I can feel it in my throat. In my wrists. In the tight knot forming in my stomach.
By the time we finally slip through the doors and enter the corridor beyond, my nerves are stretched dangerously thin.
The change in atmosphere is immediate.
The celebration doesn't disappear completely, but it becomes distant. Muted. The orchestra is reduced to a faint echo somewhere behind us, and the bursts of laughter that filled the ballroom moments ago are now little more than muffled sounds carried through layers of stone and wood.
My eyes immediately travel upward toward one of the surveillance cameras mounted along the corridor ceiling.
The sight of it makes my stomach tighten.
"We're really trusting your camera plan?" I ask quietly.
Nico doesn't even bother looking at it. "We don't have much choice."
"That wasn't an answer."
A faint smirk touches his mouth. "I know."
I shoot him a look. "Nico."
His amusement lingers for another second before he says. "You ask a lot of questions."
"Because you're telling me you somehow manipulated the surveillance system of a mafia estate without anyone noticing."
"Fair." He adjusts his cuff as we continue walking.
I narrow my eyes. The bastard actually looks proud of himself.
His smile widens. Then, just as quickly, it disappears. The shift is subtle. But I notice it.
"Nico?"
"We have eleven minutes, remember?"
My gaze drifts down the seemingly endless corridor ahead of us. Suddenly it feels much longer than it did before.
Nico must notice the change in my expression because his voice lowers slightly.
"Stop thinking about the clock."
I let out a quiet laugh. "That's impossible."
"Then stop looking at it like it's already beaten us."
The words catch me off guard. I glance at him but his attention remains fixed ahead.
"We'll get in." He says. "We'll get the information."
"And if we don't?"
He looks at me. The corner of his mouth lifts. "Then you get to tell me your gut feeling was wrong."
Idiot.
Together we continue deeper into the quiet residential wing, leaving the celebration further and further behind as the real reason we came to Ireland waits somewhere ahead of us.
The farther we move from the ballroom, the quieter the estate becomes. The music fades into the background, replaced by an almost oppressive silence that makes every sound feel louder than it should. My pulse quickens when the familiar corridor finally comes into view.
We're here.
Nico's gaze sweeps over the hallway one last time before stopping on the heavy oak door at the end.
"There." The single word sends another rush of adrenaline through me.
A moment later, we slip inside and quietly close the door behind us. Only then do I fully appreciate where we are.
We are standing inside Fergus's private quarters. And attempting to breach a hidden locker belonging to one of the most powerful men in Ireland. And we are doing it with only minutes to spare.
I glance at his watch. Nine minutes. The number sends another wave of tension through me. Nine minutes sounds like a long time until you actually need it.
Nine minutes to find what we're looking for. Nine minutes to put everything back exactly the way we found it. Nine minutes to leave the room. Nine minutes to make it back to the celebration before anyone notices we're gone.
Suddenly it doesn't feel like much time at all. The seconds drag by with agonizing slowness.
Every passing moment seems determined to stretch itself longer than the last.
Then finally…
A sharp metallic click breaks through the silence. My head immediately snaps toward the locker. Nico freezes.
For a brief moment neither of us moves. The red light on the keypad disappears. A green light replaces it. Relief hits me so suddenly that I almost laugh.
Nico slowly exhales. "We're in."
There is no triumph in his voice. Only focus. Because opening the locker was never the objective. What waits inside is. He reaches forward and pulls the steel door open.
At first glance, the contents look almost disappointingly ordinary.
Folders. Documents. Financial records. Ledgers.
Nothing immediately dramatic. Nothing that justifies the amount of effort it took to get here.
Then Nico opens the first file. And within seconds, every trace of disappointment vanishes.
I move beside him and begin reading over his shoulder. The further we dig, the quieter the room seems to become.
Business leaders tied directly to criminal organizations while publicly presenting themselves as respectable figures. Names. Dates. Amounts. Evidence.
Not speculation. Not rumors. Proof. The Keegans are not protecting themselves with money alone. They are protecting themselves with secrets. Enough secrets to destroy governments. Enough secrets to ruin careers. To ensure obedience from people who should be untouchable.
"Jesus Christ." The words leave me before I realize I've spoken aloud.
Nico doesn't respond. His attention remains fixed on the documents. The deeper we search, the worse it becomes.
Every folder reveals another compromised official. Another hidden arrangement. Another powerful person whose future depends entirely on Fergus Keegan choosing to remain silent.
This isn't merely leverage. This is a weapon. The kind of information capable of destroying alliances. The kind of information capable of turning powerful families against each other. The kind of information people would kill to protect.
For the first time since arriving in Ireland, genuine hope begins to rise inside me.
We found it. After everything. The lies. The risks. After crossing an ocean and embedding ourselves inside the Keegan estate. We actually found it.
The realization has barely settled before a soft scrape cuts through the silence. Every muscle in my body locks instantly. Nico's head lifts, and the room falls completely still. Slowly, I turn toward the closet doorway and feel the blood drain from my face.
Roisin stands in the middle of the bedroom.
Her eyes move from the open locker to the documents scattered across the floor before finally settling on us.
At first, she looks confused, as though she cannot quite understand what she is seeing.
Then understanding begins to dawn, and I watch the truth settle behind her eyes.
She is smart enough to know there is no innocent explanation for this.
I can practically see her replaying every conversation we have shared, every question I asked, and every lie we told.
The disappointment that follows hits harder than the shock.
She takes a small step backward, and my stomach twists painfully because she is the last person in this house I ever wanted to betray.
The silence stretches between us until it becomes unbearable.
Finally, her gaze drops once more to the documents in Nico's hands before returning to me. Her lips part, and when she finally speaks, her voice is barely above a whisper.
"What are you doing?"