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“Unknown just crossed West Corridor, headed for the basement,” I said, heart punching my ribs. “Ping Titan. Now.”

Amelia’s fingers danced across her screen without hesitation. I focused on the Sentrix, forcing calm into my limbs as the transfer bar blinked across the display.

“Transfer complete,” I exhaled.

“Fuck,” she hissed. “Shadow compromised with POTUS.”

My pulse spiked.

“What?”

She looked up, jaw clenched. “Shadow’s pinned. Can’t exfil. Titan running interference.”

I ran through possibilities. None of them good. None of them quiet.

“I’ve informed Titan to hold position,” she added. “Take the Sentrix. I’ll handle the unknowns outside—draw them off.”

I grabbed her wrist. “No. Absolutely not.”

“Cipher, we’ve now got six confirmed unknowns converging on our door,” she snapped, low and hard. “You are the exit plan. I’m the misdirection. Stick to Plan B.”

I met her eyes—and for a second, I didn’t see the strategist, or the soldier.

I saw her.

I saw Lia.

My partner. My Heer . My heart.

“Seventy seconds before our window closes,” she whispered.

I forced myself to nod.

She handed me her gun and turned.

And for the first time in a long damn time, I didn’t feel like Cipher.

I felt like a man watching his world walk away.

I slipped out of the Situation Room and sealed it behind me with the biometric override Lia had programmed.

The hallway was dead quiet.

The two security officers hadn’t woken up yet.

Every step I took toward the East Wing felt like I was dragging bricks behind me. My lungs weren’t working right. My pulse was riotous. I had the Sentrix in my inner jacket pocket, pressed against my chest like a second heartbeat.

But the mission didn’t feel like a win.

Not when I’d left her behind.

Not when she was weaponless, alone, and playing bait in a hallway crawling with unknowns.

She was supposed to play the diplomat if she got spotted—harmless, lost, maybe a bit tipsy. I knew her. She could fake that. Her face, her posture—it could all shift in a blink.

But I also knew her tells. The tight pull around her eyes when she was bracing for something. The way her fingers trembled just before she hid them in her pockets. The way she always said my name a little differently when she was scared.

And fuck, she was scared. I’d seen it. She’d masked it under strategy, under grit and snark, but I knew.

She’d gone in anyway.

Because the op required her to.

My hands curled into fists as I ducked through a low-lit corridor. I was halfway to the East Wing now. The music from the ballroom was faint but growing louder.

I should’ve kept walking.

Should’ve delivered the Sentrix to Dylan. Should’ve kept my promise to be the extraction.

But my pull to her… it was louder.

Stronger.

And way more sacred.

I stopped dead in my tracks.

Fuck this.

I spun around and double-backed, dialing Dylan and Delara on our secured line. “Switching plans,” I said under my breath. “I’m getting Falcon. Cover my exit.”

Delara’s voice clicked in next. “Cipher, stick to the op. You’re exposed the longer—”

“Cover me,” I snapped. “That’s an order.”

Silence.

Then Dylan’s voice, level as always. “Copy, Cipher.”

I picked up speed, moving like a shadow between guests and security. Ducking into side halls, hugging the architecture, timing my steps with the soft orchestral crescendos bleeding in from the gala.

I didn’t even know exactly where she’d gone so I tapped into our secure line.

“Falcon, come in.”

She didn’t answer.

But I knew Amelia Desmond.

I knew the way she thought. The route she’d take. The place she’d lure them. Her most used patterns during the VR sims.

And I would find her.

Or I’d bring the whole fucking White House down trying.

I kept moving. Calculated. Fast.

The further I got, the more the music from the East Wing faded. Replaced by something else.

A scuffle. Sharp. Dull thuds. A muffled grunt.

Then her voice.

“Don’t fucking touch me!”

My lungs stilled.

Then I was sprinting full speed.

The sound of my boots echoed too loud in the otherwise silent corridor. I didn’t care.

My weapon was already in hand. My heart slammed against my ribs like it was trying to get out and get to her first.

Another second.

Then—a shot.

Just one. Muffled. Close.

I turned the corner—and my world cracked open.

My Lia.

Her dress was torn—shredded from the slit, the side seams hanging. Her bra strap loose. Her chest blooming red with blood, just beneath the ribs.

She staggered.

And dropped.

Her body hit the marble floor with a sound I’d never forget. A sound that would echo in my head for the rest of my goddamn life.

Everything inside me went quiet.

There was something in me that snapped so hard I didn’t feel it—but I just knew I wasn’t the same.

Time slowed as I watched the love of my life lying still—too still. Blood pooling beneath her.

My vision tunneled.

Suddenly, I couldn’t see the walls. The lights. The floor.

Just the five motherfuckers still standing.

Circling her.

Five.

Why were they still breathing?

Well, that’s too bad.

Because my gun was already up.

Nothing could’ve stopped my finger from pulling the trigger.

They touched her.

They hurt her.

They shot her.

But I was still standing.

Their mistake.