Chapter 12 #2
“My mother insisted.” His thumb traces a slow circle against my spine. “Said no son of hers was going to embarrass a woman on a dance floor.”
“Smart woman.”
“Terrifying woman. You’d like her.”
The image catches me off guard—Levi with a mother, with a childhood, with someone who cared whether he could dance. He feels less like a force of nature and more like a person.
The kiss in the suite felt like a force of nature.
This feels like something else. Something more dangerous.
“You two are absolutely radiant.” An older woman dances past with her husband, beaming at us. “How long have you been together?”
“Not long.” Levi doesn’t miss a beat. “But it feels right.”
“You can always tell the ones who are truly in love. It’s in the way they look at each other.”
She waltzes away before I can respond. Which is good, because I don’t know what I would have said.
The way they look at each other.
I glance up. Levi’s eyes are on my face. Dark. Intent. The same look from the suite, right before he crossed the room and—
“Stop thinking so loud.”
“I’m not—”
“You’re analyzing. Calculating. Trying to figure out what the kiss meant.”
Heat climbs my neck. “It was a mistake.”
“You already said that.”
“You agreed.”
“I said probably.” He pulls me closer. His mouth brushes my temple. “I’m less sure now.”
“Levi—”
“There’s Costa.”
The shift is immediate. Predator instincts overriding everything else. I follow his gaze to the bar, where Costa stands nursing a drink, shoulders tight, the look of a man who’s made a decision he can’t take back.
“Let’s go.”
Costa is different.
The confusion from this morning has solidified into something else. Resignation, maybe. Or resolve. He sees us coming and doesn’t look away. Doesn’t try to escape.
He’s been waiting.
“Director.” His gaze moves to Levi. “And the husband.”
“Ray.” I stop in front of him. Close enough for privacy. Levi’s hand stays on my back—a reminder, an anchor. “We need to talk.”
“I know.” He sets down his drink. “I’ve been thinking about what you said. All afternoon.”
My heart stutters. “And?”
“And I’ve noticed things. Anomalies. Requests that didn’t quite track. Access patterns that seemed automated but were classified above my clearance.” He shakes his head. “I thought I was being paranoid. Seeing patterns that weren’t there.”
“They’re there.”
“I know.” The words come out heavy. Defeated. “I can’t verify Phoenix. I can’t verify any of it through proper channels—you’re right about that. The channels are compromised.”
“So what are you saying?”
“I’m saying I’ve known you for six years.” His eyes meet mine. Exhausted but certain. “And you’ve never lied to me. Not once. Not even when it would have been easier.”
“I’m not lying now.”
“I know. That’s what terrifies me.”
The relief hits me so hard I sway. Levi’s hand presses firmer against my back. Steadying.
“You’ll help?”
“I’ll give you my codes.” Costa glances around. Lowers his voice further. “Not here. Too many eyes. My room. 2847. After the gala ends—give it an hour for the crowd to thin.”
“Ray, I could—”
“An hour, Sarah.” He looks older than I’ve ever seen him. “I need to get my head straight. What you’re asking me to do … This ends my career. Everything I’ve built. I need an hour to make peace with that.”
The weight of what I’ve asked settles on my chest. Ray Costa has given thirty years to this agency. Worked his way up from analyst to deputy director. Built a life on protocol and procedure and doing things the right way.
And I’m asking him to burn it all down.
“Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet.” A ghost of a smile crosses his face. “Thank me when Phoenix is dead.”
He walks away. Toward the exit. Toward his room, where he’ll spend an hour making peace with the end of everything he knows.
I watch him go.
“He said yes.” The words feel impossible. “He actually said yes.”
“He did.” Levi’s voice is close to my ear. “You did it.”
“We did it. We actually—” My voice cracks. “We have a chance.”
“We have a chance.”
The gala continues around us. Music, laughter, the clink of glasses. The world doesn’t know it’s about to change.
But I know.
For the first time since I walked into Cerberus headquarters, hope feels possible.
The terrace is empty.
Same place I stood this morning, devastated by Costa’s rejection, staring at Vegas and wondering if I’d made the biggest mistake of my life. The view is different now. The neon has woken up—pulsing, alive, the city transformed from daylight exhaustion to nighttime electricity.
I lean against the railing. Let the desert air cool my skin.
Levi appears beside me. His jacket is off, draped over his arm. Sleeves rolled up, forearms exposed—muscled, capable, distracting. He looks less like a gala attendee and more like himself.
“You okay?”
“I don’t know.” Honest. The word feels strange. “I’ve been running on fear for so long. The idea that we might actually succeed—”
“Terrifying?”
“Yes.”
“Most people would say relief.”
“Most people haven’t spent three days waiting for everything to fall apart.”
The Vegas lights paint his face in shifting colors. Red. Gold. Blue. His eyes are on me again. That same look from the suite. From the dance floor. Right before he—
“Stop.”
“Stop, what?”
“Looking at me like that.”
“Like, what?”
“Like you’re about to do something we’ll both regret.”
He laughs. Low. Rough. “Who says I’d regret it?”
“Levi—”
“The suite was a mistake. You said so.” He turns to face me fully. “But here’s the thing. I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life. That one didn’t feel like a mistake. That one felt like the first honest thing that’s happened since we got on that plane.”
“It complicates everything.”
“Everything’s already complicated.”
“The mission—”
“The mission is Costa’s codes, which we’re getting in an hour. The mission is stopping Phoenix, which we’re doing. The mission is saving the world, and we’re going to pull it off.” He steps closer. Close enough that I have to tilt my head back to meet his eyes. “So don’t tell me about the mission.”
“Then what should I tell you?”
“Tell me what you want.”
I want to stop thinking. I want to stop calculating three moves ahead. I want to know what it feels like to surrender to something rather than control it.
“I want …”
He waits. Patient. Still. All that coiled energy held in check by sheer force of will.
I close the distance between us.
My hands find his chest. Slide up to his shoulders. His whole body goes taut—a held breath, a prayer.
I kiss him.
Not like the chapel. Not like the suite. This is mine. My choice. My surrender.
His control breaks.
Arms banding around me, lifting me onto my toes, mouth slanting over mine with a groan that vibrates through my chest. He kisses me like he’s been waiting for permission. Like now that he has it, he intends to take everything.
I let him.
When we finally break apart, both breathing hard, the Vegas lights are still pulsing below us. The world hasn’t ended. Nothing has fallen apart.
“That wasn’t for the cameras.” My voice comes out wrecked.
“I know.”
“I kissed you.”
“I noticed.” His hands are in my hair, tilting my face up. “Want to do it again?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
He kisses me again. Softer this time. Slower. The kind of kiss that makes promises neither of us are ready to name.
When we finally pull apart, his forehead rests against mine. His hands are still in my hair. My fingers have found the front of his shirt, gripping the fabric like it’s the only thing keeping me upright.
“One hour.” His voice is rough. “Then we go to Costa’s room. Get the codes.”
“One hour.”
“Any ideas how to spend it?”
I should say something practical. Strategic. We should review the plan, prepare for contingencies, and discuss extraction routes.
“Stay here.” The words come out before I can stop them. “Just—stay with me.”
His arms wrap around me. Pull me close. I rest my head against his chest, hear his heart beating—faster than his calm expression suggests.
“Okay.”
We stand there. Wrapped in each other. Vegas electric below us, the future uncertain above us, and for one perfect hour, nothing else matters.
Nothing except the way he holds me.
Nothing except the way hope feels after so long without it.
Nothing except this.