Page 15

The next morning, I feel more like a prisoner than someone Cerberus is trying to protect. Nick’s office feels colder than the Monte Carlo weather outside, or maybe it’s just him. He leans against the edge of the massive mahogany desk, arms crossed over his chest, watching me like I’m a puzzle he’s already decided isn’t worth solving. There’s nothing soft in his posture, no sign of the man I once knew.
I sit in one of the leather chairs opposite him, hands folded in my lap, knuckles white from the pressure, and force myself to meet his gaze. It’s harder than I want to admit. It feels like standing in front of a firing squad, but I make myself do it. I’ve come too far, risked too much, to falter now.
He’s changed. The lines around his eyes are deeper, and the scruff on his jaw makes him look harder, more dangerous. His shoulders are broader, his chest thicker, and the sheer physicality of him is overwhelming. Muscles ripple beneath his dark sweater, and when he shifts, it feels like the entire room bends around him.
But it’s the eyes that do me in. Hazel with flecks of gold, sharp and unyielding. I used to get lost in them, back when they softened for me. They don’t soften now.
“Start talking,” he says, his tone even but razor-sharp.
No greeting, no pleasantries. Just that low, commanding voice that drags me back to a time when I would’ve done anything to keep him looking at me.
I clear my throat, pulling myself together. “As I told you, Hector is involved with René Vallois. Hector has been laundering money for Vallois through Interpol’s accounts for years, and now he’s facilitating arms shipments disguised as Interpol seizures. Weapons that should have been intercepted are ending up in René’s hands, and he’s selling them to God knows who.”
Nick doesn’t react, not a twitch, not a blink. He’s listening, but his face is a blank canvas.
“I didn’t know. Not at first,” I continue, my voice steady despite the pounding of my heart. “But after the divorce, I went back to the house to get my passports. That’s when I found the files. Wire transfers, surveillance photos, contracts… proof that Hector and René have been working together. I didn’t mean to dig. I just...”
“Stumbled onto it?” His voice cuts through me like a blade.
“Yes,” I say quietly.
His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t interrupt again.
“I was getting ready to leave when one of René’s men showed up. I barely got out of the house alive,” I admit. “Since then, I’ve been running. I can’t go to the police—someone has either bought them off, or they are too scared to pursue someone like René. They’ve tried to grab me twice already—once in Lyon and once when I was on the train from Lyon to Paris. They’re not going to stop.”
I pause, swallowing the lump rising in my throat. “I need your help, Nick. Cerberus is the only thing standing between me and…”
“Death?” he finishes for me.
“Yes,” I whisper. I stand, unable to stay seated under his gaze, and I refuse to let him loom over me. I stifle a laugh. “You’re no Jedi knight, but I fear Cerberus is my only hope. I’m out of options.”
His jaw tightens, his gaze unrelenting. For a moment, the room is deathly silent. He doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. Just stands there, watching me with those hazel eyes that still seem to burn for me.
“Hector and René will kill me if they get the chance, and if they don’t, I’ll live every second knowing what they’ve done—what they’re going to do—because I didn’t try to stop them.”
I straighten, forcing my shoulders back as I rein in every damn thing Nick makes me feel. The anger. The pain. The undeniable pull that still crackles between us like a live wire.
He studies me, his gaze trailing over every inch of my face like he’s dissecting my words for truth. Then, without a word, he crosses to the desk and plugs the drive into his laptop. The room is still as he scrolls through the files, his expression unreadable. The screen casts a faint blue glow across his features. Each click echoes in the quiet, sharp and deliberate. After what feels like an eternity, he closes the laptop and turns to me.
“If this is legitimate,” he says, his voice softer but no less commanding, “you’re not just running from René. You’re a walking target for half the criminal networks in Europe.”
I exhale shakily. “I figured… that’s why I called JJ.”
He shakes his head, running a hand through his sandy brown hair as he stands and comes around to the front of his desk. For the first time, he looks like he’s wrestling with something.
Leaning against the desk again, he crosses his arms over his chest. “Let me be clear, Cherise. You’ve started a ball rolling that will only get bigger as it picks up speed. There’s no way to exclude you, so from here on out, you play by my rules. No arguments, no questions, no stunts. You don’t question my methods, and you don’t make any moves without my approval. You do exactly what I tell you when I tell you to do it. Understood?”
“Yes,” I say quickly, relief washing over me.
“If you don’t, you’ll be out. Cerberus will keep you protected, but you won’t have a hand in bringing Hector down, other than providing us with the information you took from his safe.”
The air between us feels charged, like something unspoken is pulling us together and pushing us apart all at once.
“I understand,” I whisper.
He turns away, fingers flying over the built-in console lining the far wall. A few keystrokes and his laptop illuminates the screens, filling them with intelligence feeds—satellite images, encrypted messages, and security footage tracking Hector and Vallois’ last known locations.
His voice is calm, controlled. I don’t remember him being this way before everything went to hell.