Aidan Blackstone rarely lost his temper.
It was part of what made him dangerous—he didn't need to shout to command attention. But that night, in the silence of his private office after the gala, fury simmered beneath his skin like a suppressed explosion.
"Donovan," he said, voice razor-sharp, "you went behind my back."
Donovan Vrex sat across from him, unfazed. He removed his cufflinks slowly, precisely, like a man who knew exactly how much power he still held.
"I protected your image," Donovan said. "And I capitalized on wasted intellectual property. That prototype was gathering dust—"
"That prototype was not ours to sell," Aidan cut in. "It belonged to Elina. And now half the boardroom knows she was the original designer."
"Then let them." Donovan folded his hands. "A little scandal keeps the wolves distracted."
Aidan leaned forward. "You're forgetting that the wolves don't bite me. They bite the weakest link. And that's you, Donovan."
Something dark flickered in Donovan's eyes—but only for a second.
"I did what needed to be done," he said. "You're too sentimental about her. That's the problem."
"She was betrayed," Aidan said coldly. "By us. By you. I won't let that happen again."
Donovan stood. "And what are you planning, Aidan? Reinstating her? Letting her waltz back into the company she tried to burn to the ground?"
"No," Aidan said. "I'm planning to let her finish the job."
The air between them pulsed.
Donovan smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Careful. You're starting to sound like a man in love."
"I've always been one," Aidan said.
—
Two days later, Elina watched from the passenger seat as Harper drove them through the shadowy industrial district—toward the underground lab where the real weapons were made.
"You sure about this?" Harper asked, chewing on a licorice stick. "Because the more time we spend near Aidan, the closer we get to either winning big… or losing everything."
"I'm sure," Elina said. "This isn't about him anymore. It's about taking back what's mine."
The building looked like nothing—an abandoned textile factory with rusted shutters and dust-caked windows. But underground, it was the brain of Blackstone Technologies' most secretive operations.
They entered with stolen biometric keys, disguised as utility inspectors.
Once inside, the cold was immediate.
Not just physical—but technological.
Blue-lit corridors. Silent halls. Machines that hummed like they were thinking.
Harper tapped into a nearby server console, fingers dancing across the keys.
"I'm in," she whispered. "You've got twenty minutes, max."
Elina moved quickly, scanning project files until she found what she was looking for: the Neurolink Core.
Her design.
Her future.
Stolen and renamed.
She uploaded a virus—quiet, surgical, untraceable. It would erase every unauthorized copy and trigger a legal notice embedded with her original timestamps.
By the time Blackstone's board realized what had happened, the world would know the truth.
"Elina—" Harper's voice sharpened. "Company."
Footsteps echoed down the hallway.
Security.
Too early.
They ran.
Not recklessly—but with precision. Years of being hunted had taught them how to escape in shadows.
They ducked behind a dormant cryo-chamber, hearts pounding. Two guards passed, chatting idly about some birthday in accounting.
Elina waited… then slipped past, back toward the exit.
Outside, rain slicked the pavement. They slid into Harper's car just as the alarms blared inside.
"Go," Elina said.
Harper peeled off, tires shrieking as they disappeared into the night.
—
Later, back at their safehouse, Elina peeled off the wig and tossed it onto the couch. Her skin was still buzzing with adrenaline, but her mind… her mind was back with Aidan.
He'd stood up for her at the gala.
And he hadn't outed her afterward.
Which meant… he was giving her time.
But why?
Why now?
Harper watched her from the kitchen counter, sipping coffee.
"You're thinking about him."
"I'm thinking about strategy," Elina said, but her voice lacked conviction.
Harper arched a brow. "Sure. Strategy. That's what we're calling heartbreak these days."
"I can't afford to break," Elina said. "Not now."
Harper's voice softened. "You don't have to break. But maybe… just maybe… you can let yourself feel."
Elina didn't answer.
She couldn't.
Because the truth was… she was feeling.
Too much.
—
Meanwhile, Aidan sat in his penthouse office, fingers steepled, watching the alert stream in from Blackstone's digital security team.
"Unauthorized server access… wiped blueprints… time-stamped authorship claims…"
It was her.
He knew it.
And still—he didn't stop her.
He closed the report and picked up his phone.
> AIDAN: We need to meet.
A moment later, a reply pinged.
> ELINA: Tomorrow. Public place. Noon.
> AIDAN: Deal.
> ELINA: Come alone.
He stared at the screen.
Then whispered to himself, "Always."
—
The next day, they met at a botanical conservatory—neutral ground surrounded by orchids and glass. Sunlight poured in through domed ceilings, casting shimmering reflections on marble floors.
Elina stood by the water lilies, her posture unreadable.
Aidan approached slowly.
"Nice venue," he said.
"Harder to spy on me here," she replied.
"Unless you count the koi fish," he offered dryly.
She cracked a smile. Just a small one.
He exhaled, like he hadn't realized he'd been holding his breath.
"Why now?" she asked suddenly. "Why help me now after all this time?"
"Because I was wrong," he said simply. "And I finally want to be right."
"I can't promise we'll win," she said.
"I don't need promises," he replied. "I just need you."
Silence.
But not the cold kind.
The kind that hummed with possibility.
Finally, she said, "We go after Donovan next."
Aidan nodded. "He won't go down without a fight."
Elina's voice turned steel. "Neither will I."
And for the first time in a long time, they weren't on opposite sides of the war.
They were standing on the same battlefield.
Together.