The rain hadn't let up.
It chased her all the way to the docks, soaking her hair, her jacket, even the sheath of the blade tucked in her boot. But Veronica didn't flinch. Didn't pause.
She had walked into worse storms.
The warehouse came into view just past the rusted chain-link fence. A forgotten relic of the port district—windows shattered, roof half-collapsed, and vines clawing their way up the side like nature itself had tried to bury it.
No lights. No cars. Just the sound of the ocean slapping the rocks behind her, and the flicker of a single lantern inside.
She slipped through the fence and into the shadows.
Footsteps silent. Every instinct is alert.
As she reached the door, a voice called softly from within.
"Don't shoot. Please."
Veronica froze.
A girl stepped into view.
Slender. Sopping wet. Shivering in a paper-thin hoodie and ripped jeans, her face half-covered by a cracked mask—one of those carnival ones from Venice, chipped at the cheek.
But her eyes… they were wide, terrified, rimmed red from either cold or crying.
"I'm Alexis," she said, voice trembling. "Alexis Wu."
Veronica's guard didn't lower, but something inside her shifted.
"Take off the mask."
The girl hesitated—then obeyed.
And there she was.
Older, gaunter, but undeniably her. The same jawline. The faint scar along her left temple. The one from fencing practice back in freshman year.
Veronica's heart jumped.
"Where have you been?" she asked, voice sharper than she intended. "Why didn't you—"
"They said they'd kill my brother," Alexis choked. "They had him. They still might. I—I did what they told me."
Her knees buckled slightly, and she leaned against the rusted beam.
"I didn't even know who was pulling the strings until it was too late. Serena… Victoria… they weren't just bullies. They were collectors. Secrets. Scandals. Blackmail."
She sucked in a breath, her voice cracking.
"They ran a ring. Four girls. High-profile targets. Sons of CEOs, heirs, and young politicians. They seduced them, got recordings, and then flipped them for favors—or money."
Veronica's jaw tightened. "You were part of it?"
"No!" Alexis shook her head. "They pulled me in to keep me quiet. I was a cover. A scapegoat if things ever got exposed. I think they planned to frame me eventually…"
She leaned in closer.
"Veronica, one of them is still here. One of the other girls—they're watching you. Waiting."
A cold ripple passed down Veronica's spine.
This wasn't just about school hierarchy or family shame anymore. This was deeper. Tied into power, influence, and ruin.
"Who's the fourth girl?" Veronica asked. "Serena. Victoria. And?"
Before Alexis could answer—
A sharp crack split the air.
Veronica reacted on instinct.
She dove forward, yanking Alexis to the ground just as the second bullet shattered the lantern above.
Glass rained down. The warehouse plunged into near-darkness.
She didn't wait.
Blood. Her arm.
A graze.
Pain bloomed, but her blade was already in her hand.
"Stay down!" she hissed, crawling behind a rusted support beam, pulling Alexis with her.
Sniper.
High-caliber.
Silencer attached.
Professional.
The bullet hadn't been meant to kill. Not immediately.
It was a warning.
A leash.
"Someone followed you," Alexis whimpered. "I didn't tell anyone. I swear."
"I believe you," Veronica said tightly.
But she didn't believe in coincidences.
She peeked out for half a second—enough to spot the broken window from where the shot had likely come.
A rooftop nearby. Angled. Just close enough for a line of sight.
Another crack.
Veronica ducked, but her heart was pounding now, not from fear, but fury.
This wasn't a test anymore.
It was a statement.
They wanted her rattled. Bleeding. Off-balance.
She reached for her phone—
Dead.
Jammed?
No signal.
She cursed under her breath.
Then—footsteps. From the far end of the warehouse.
Heavy. Familiar.
And before she could lift her weapon again—
"VERONICA!"
Lucas's voice exploded through the dark, cutting through rain, glass, and silence.
She turned toward him, silhouetted in the broken doorway, gun drawn.
His gaze landed on her—
On the blood—
On the girl cowering beside her.
Then the fury hit.
He was at her side in three strides, his hand yanking her up, eyes wild.
"You're bleeding."
"It's nothing," she gasped, still clutching her blade. "I had to come—"
"You shouldn't have come alone!"
He checked the wound. Fast, clinical. The graze was deep but not dangerous. Still, his fingers trembled for half a second before he forced them still.
"You could've been killed."
"Alexis—" Veronica gestured. "She needed—"
"I TOLD YOU I'D PROTECT YOU!" Lucas snapped.
The words echoed like a gunshot.
Veronica froze.
Lucas's breath was ragged.
He wasn't just furious.
He was afraid.
"You don't trust me," he said hoarsely. "That's what this is, isn't it? You still think you have to do this alone."
"Lucas—"
"I get it. You've lived your whole life with knives in your back and blood on your hands. But I'm not them. I'm not your enemy. I'm not one more man waiting for you to fall."
His voice cracked.
"I'm the one who'd burn for you, and you still shut me out."
Veronica opened her mouth.
Closed it.
Something inside her twisted—because part of her knew he was right.
She hadn't told him.
Hadn't asked for backup.
Because she'd been taught that love made you vulnerable.
But Lucas?
He'd already bled for her.
And tonight, he was ready to bleed again.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I didn't want you to get hurt."
"Too late," he said bitterly. "You already did."
A silence fell.
Somewhere in the distance, the sound of tires screeched—whoever had fired the shots was long gone now.
Alexis whimpered behind them.
Lucas turned to her.
"You're safe now," he said, clipped but not unkind. "We'll get you out."
He pulled his phone, still functioning, a secure line. Called someone. Gave terse orders. Transport. Medics. Clean-up.
Then, when everything else was handled—
He knelt in front of Veronica.
Took her bleeding hand.
And pressed it to his chest.
"You don't have to fight like you're still alone, V."
She didn't pull away.
Didn't lie.
Didn't say thank you.
She just leaned into him, forehead pressed against his, both of them soaked and trembling.
And for the first time that night—
The storm didn't feel so loud.
In a distant office—
Someone watched the scene unfold on a grainy black-and-white monitor.
The sniper's camera feed. Frozen on Veronica and Lucas, crouched together in the ruins of the warehouse.
A low laugh echoed through the dim room.
"She bleeds for them," the voice mused. "He bleeds for her."
A gloved hand reached forward and pressed delete.
"Let the world believe this was a rescue."
The camera shut off.
Only a red pinboard remained—dozens of photos connected by thread.
At the center?
Red V.
Below her photo—
A single word.
"Asset."