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Leo jolted awake. Darkness pressed close, broken only by the rasp of his breathing and a sliver of moonlight bleeding through a chink in the drapes.

Too fucking still.

Sleep had turned against him since England.

Even with Raptor’s archive destroyed and the mission officially a success, something gnawed at him.

Various agencies had bristled at the archive’s loss—research that had started with good intentions but had rotted from the inside out.

Freya had made the right call destroying it, but lately?

He pressed his palm against the cold glass, the chill seeping into his skin. Lately, the quiet felt like waiting, like the moment before an explosion he couldn’t see coming.

Being in the same room as Kat had stirred up emotions he’d been trying to suppress since their first shared mission, and since returning to Norway, he’d failed to cage those feelings back in their usual prison.

He padded downstairs to the kitchen and poured himself a glass of water, welcoming the shock of cold as he drank. It distracted him from the what-could-have-beens that haunted his dreams and left him waking with clutched sheets, his body drenched in sweat, his cock iron-hard.

He drained the glass and set it on the drainer, gripping the cold metal edge as his shoulders sank under an invisible weight.

Solitude was his penance. His team had found love and peace with the incredible women they shared their lives with. But he was well aware such happiness wasn’t on the cards for him. His actions had marked his soul—stains that no amount of time could erase.

Yet it didn’t matter how often he reminded himself he was no good for her.

Kat was woven into his DNA. Her scent lingered in his memory—that subtle blend of rose and vanilla that had nearly undone him when she’d leaned close during the briefing.

The ghost of her lips brushing his cheek in a chaste goodbye kiss that refused to release its grip on his heart.

He sighed and dragged a hand through his hair.

I’m awake now. Might as well do something useful.

Perhaps the monotony of doing taxes would help him sleep. Numbers were predictable and safe. They didn’t stir up longings. Longings he had no right to feel.

The pale glow of motion-sensing lights traced his path through Guardsmen Security’s operations base. At his personal workstation, a nudge of the mouse awakened the three curved Mac displays, their screens casting ethereal blue shadows across his desk.

His pulse stumbled.

There, centered on the middle screen, a notification blinked: one new message.

From Kat.

The timestamp read 3:30 a.m. Exactly when he’d woken up twenty minutes ago.

His chair creaked as he sank into it. Cold air whispered against his skin, but the chill sinking into his bones wasn’t external. His fingers brushed the keyboard.

From: Kat [[email protected]]

To: Leo [[email protected]]

Subject: URGENT

They’re coming for me.

You’re the only one I can trust. Please, I need you to

[Message end]

The words cut off mid-sentence, as if she’d been interrupted.

As if someone had found her.

Leo stared at the screen, his heart punching double-time.

They’re coming for me.

Who the hell were they ? MI6? Korolov’s people? Someone else entirely?

He stood there for three long seconds, torn between instinct and protocol. Getting involved would mean crossing lines they’d both held for years—professional distance, operational safety, the fragile boundary between what was allowed and what was personal.

Leo moved.

He grabbed his phone and pulled up his flight booking app as he strode toward the stairs. His fingers flew across the screen, searching for the next available flight to London. There—a red-eye departing in four hours. He booked it without checking the price.

In his bedroom, he threw a suitcase onto the bed. Tactical gear, secure comms, enough clothes for a week. His hands moved on autopilot while his mind spiraled through possibilities, each one darker than the last.

She’d never asked him for anything. That’s what gutted him now. She trusted him—still. Even after everything.

Kat was in trouble. That much was clear.

But what twisted in his gut wasn’t just fear—it was something far more dangerous.

He closed the suitcase.

Whoever they were, they’d just made the biggest mistake.

He was going to London.