Page 35 of Code Name: Hunter (Club Opus Noir #2)
The words are meant to cut deeper than the knife, but I don’t give him the satisfaction of a reaction. I lower him to the ground, the light already dimming in his eyes, and pull the blade free.
His body slumps sideways, collapsing into the drift. The cold blanket of snow folds over him, muting the final rattle of breath as if the mountain itself is claiming what’s left.
I straighten, my breath sharp in the cold, and scan the chapel for movement. Nothing stirs—only the deep shadows and the faint spill of moonlight seeping through gaping window arches where glass gave way to centuries of weather, leaving jagged stone frames open to the night.
A soft chime in my earpiece—Vivian’s signal. I move fast, back through the cloister, boots crunching over the patchwork of snow and blood. She’s in the scriptorium, crouched over her tablet, the glow from the screen lighting the determined set of her jaw.
My relief is short--lived. “What the hell were you thinking?” The words come out harsher than I intend, anger sharpened by the image of her in Wolfe’s sights. “You could have been killed. You went in alone without backup. You left us behind, drugged... for god's sake, Vivian, you drugged us.”
Her eyes don’t waver. “Is he dead?”
“That’s not the point.”
“Logan.” Her tone cuts through my fury, cool and unyielding. “That's the first of two points. Is. He. Dead?”
I hold her gaze for a beat, jaw tight, and finally give the only answer that matters. “Yes. What's the second point?”
A serene smile tugs at the corners of her mouth. I've only seen it there when she submitted to me and found peace in that submission.
"That's easy. I love you, and that may be the most important point of all."
The strain in her shoulders and body fades away. She steps into my space, hands coming up to grip my face, and before I can say another word her mouth is on mine—heat flooding between us, fierce and unrelenting, her mouth moving over mine with the raw hunger of survival and victory.
Her kiss is all fire and possession, her lips demanding as surely as I take her in return, tongues tangling, breath mingling, the taste of her flooding my senses until I’m drowning in her, owning and being owned in the same breath.
There’s no hesitation, no second--guessing, just the taste of victory and the knowledge that, for now, we’ve both survived.
The kiss crashes through me like an electric jolt—heat, hunger, and the fierce thrum of relief that she’s here, alive, in my arms. Her lips move over mine with a fierce, sensual certainty that strips away the cold and the carnage, flooding my senses with the taste of her, the slide of her tongue against mine, the intoxicating mix of breath and need.
My hands find the curve of her back, pulling her closer until there’s no space left between us, every inch a claim, every heartbeat a promise.
When she breaks away, it’s not from reluctance but purpose, her breath warm against my cheek before she turns. "I've got one more thing to do."
She moves with quick, deliberate grace back to her pack, the whisper of zippers and fabric as she draws out her laptop, the glow of the screen spilling over her determined expression.
Her fingers hover for a heartbeat over the touchpad, looking at me. I nod, and she presses a single key. "Full dossier—twenty global outlets. Timed release. They’ll have it before sunrise."
Archer’s voice is grim over comms. “You hit them that hard, expect them to hit back harder. The Choir doesn’t take public embarrassment lightly.”
Vivian’s smile is sharp. “Good. Let them come. At least now the world’s watching.”
The tension I’ve been carrying since Brussels finally starts to unwind from my body.
Crossing the short space between us, my gaze locks on hers, pulling me in like a tether.
For the first time tonight, I draw a slow, complete breath, filling my lungs as though I can finally take in the air with her here, in the same space, alive and unbroken.
Outside, a fresh gust of icy air knifes through the ruins, rattling the loose stones and sweeping away the last metallic tang and distant cries of the fight, leaving only the raw hush of the mountain night.
We’re not done—not with Klein and the Iron Choir still moving pieces on the board—but tonight, this battle is ours and the taste of victory is sweet.
I’m not letting her out of my sight again—and I tell her as much, the words low but sure, following it with a rough, heartfelt, “I love you too.” Archer and Darius fall in with us, and together we start down the mountain, the icy wind howling all around us, but not feeling quite as cold as it was before.
The air bites at my cheeks as I thumb my comm, Fitz’s brogue snapping through before I can speak. “Well? You still breathing?”
“Alive and headed for Monte Carlo,” I tell him, giving the bare-bones update.
“Aye, and dragging trouble with you, no doubt,” he fires back. “You planning on bringing me a souvenir, or just another heap of bodies?”
“Only if you want Wolfe’s knife.”
“Pass. Got enough paperweights.”
Despite the bite of the wind, my mouth quirks. “We’ll keep you posted. Darius is going to work with the FIS to clean up the trash we left littered on their beautiful mountains. Give JJ a kiss from me and try not to get into trouble while we’re gone.”
“No promises, lad. But you let that woman out of your sight again, and we’ll be burying you both.
Signals intelligence just went nuclear. Intercepts are spiking across half the globe.
Someone’s put a bounty on your head, and hers is right beside yours.
Open contract. Which means every merc, assassin, and bottom-feeder from Lisbon to Vladivostok just got your scent. ”
“Copy that.”
I end the call; the wind tearing at my hood as Archer, Darius, Vivian and I continue down the mountain, the wind clawing at us all the way down the trail.
But it’s not the cold making the hairs on my neck rise.
Somewhere out there, someone just marked us for elimination, and every step toward Monte Carlo feels like walking into a loaded crosshairs.