A sharp sound—like a chair scraping.
Tristan stepped back from the door, his eyes meeting Lilac's. He mouthed, go now.
But it was too late.
The door burst open.
Elias Harrow was bigger than she expected—broad shoulders, gray-streaked hair, a face like carved stone. He saw Tristan first. Then her. Then the recognition bloomed.
"You brought her here?" Harrow snarled. "You arrogant bastard."
Tristan didn't answer. He moved. Fast.
What followed was chaos. A blur of fists, grunts, furniture shattering. Lilac ducked behind a file cabinet, her heart thundering in her ears. A second man—slimmer, dark suit—grabbed for her, but she slashed out with the blade Tristan gave her. He yelped, backing off, clutching his bleeding forearm.
Tristan slammed Harrow against the wall. "Who hired you?"
Harrow spat blood. "Too late, Caine. You're already in it. Both of you."
"What do they want with her?"
Harrow smiled—and it chilled her more than his anger.
"They don't want her. They want him." He nodded toward Tristan. "She's just the weakness they've been waiting for."
Tristan's fist cracked against Harrow's jaw, sending him slumping.
"Lilac—move!"
She scrambled out, adrenaline burning through her limbs as Tristan grabbed her arm and pulled her down the hallway. They burst through the back exit and into the alley, into daylight that felt like freedom.
They didn't speak until they were blocks away, hidden behind a grocery store's loading dock.
Lilac was panting. "He said… he said I'm bait. That they want you."
Tristan's eyes were shadowed. "They're not wrong."
"You want to explain that?"
"Not here. Not now."
"No, now, Tristan!" she shouted, voice cracking. "You dragged me into this—into whatever past you thought you could outrun. If I'm going to keep walking beside you, I deserve to know."
Tristan looked at her for a long time.
Then he sat down on the curb like the fight had finally reached him.
"When I was nineteen, my family sent me overseas. Not for school. Not for business. For a deal. One that involved arms trades, black money, and buying silence from powerful men."
She didn't interrupt.
"I was supposed to be a face. Just a name to legitimize the operation. But I saw something I wasn't meant to. A shipment that wasn't weapons. It was people. Women. Children."
Lilac's throat tightened.
"I tried to shut it down. Told my father. Told the board. They told me I misunderstood."
"And did you?"
"I wish I had." He looked at her. "I leaked it. Got it to a contact in the foreign press. Within days, the operation vanished. The compound was burned. And every trace of it… buried."
"But not you."
"No. Because someone always remembers. Especially when you betray your own blood."
"And now?"
"Now they're moving again. I think they want me dead. But they can't risk doing it loud. So they're circling. Testing. Watching you, because you're the only person I've let close in years."
Lilac sat beside him. The silence returned—not heavy, but real.
"So what do we do?" she asked quietly.
Tristan looked out at the skyline. "We follow the smoke. And when we find the fire—we burn it down."
The next week passed like a dream laced with nightmares.
Lilac went to class. Took notes. Laughed with friends. But her mind was always elsewhere—scanning crowds, noticing every shadow, every stranger who stood too long in the same spot.
Tristan stayed close. Not always visibly, but she felt him. In the way her building's front desk suddenly hired overnight security. In the sleek black car parked two blocks away every night. In the messages that appeared on her phone without sending notifications:
"Third floor, right window. Don't turn."
"Package at your door. Don't open until you're inside."
It should've scared her.
But it didn't.
Because for the first time in her life, Lilac Ambrose wasn't waiting to be rescued.
She was walking into the fire on her own terms.
It was a Friday when she got the call.
A blocked number. No ID. But she answered anyway.
"Miss Ambrose," a voice said. Polished. Male. "I believe you've been speaking with Mr. Caine."
She didn't respond.
"I represent a group interested in ensuring his silence. We have no desire to harm you. In fact, we'd prefer to keep you uninvolved. But that requires your cooperation."
"What do you want?" she said, voice flat.
"Come alone to the Roosevelt Warehouse at 11 PM. Bring the file."
"What file?"
"You'll know. And Miss Ambrose? If you bring him… you won't walk out."
The line went dead.
Lilac's hands trembled, but not from fear.
From rage.
Because the only thing worse than being hunted… was being used.
She called Tristan.
Told him everything.
He didn't shout. Didn't even sound surprised.
"Then we'll go together," he said.
"But they said—"
"I don't care."
And in that moment, Lilac knew something had changed.
He wasn't protecting her anymore.
They were protecting each other.
The Roosevelt Warehouse was an echo of industry long gone—rusted metal, broken windows, and forgotten corners.
They entered through the back. Lilac carried a small case—empty, but convincing. Tristan had eyes like fire.
Inside, they were met by five men. Suits. Guns.
And one woman.
She was tall, elegant, dressed in white. A smile that didn't reach her eyes.
"Miss Ambrose. Mr. Caine. We meet at last."
Lilac raised an eyebrow. "You've been watching me."
"Regrettably, yes. You complicate things."
"Too bad."
The woman's gaze shifted to Tristan. "You could've had everything, you know. But you chose ruin."
"I chose truth."
She laughed. "And look what it bought you."
Tristan stepped forward. "You want the file. You're not getting it."
"We don't need it. We just need the girl."
Four men moved forward.
Lilac whispered, "Now?"
Tristan nodded.
She dropped the case.
Smoke exploded outward—thick, white, blinding.
Tristan moved like lightning.
Lilac ran—like he told her to if things went wrong—but not out. She ran up. Up the metal stairs to the second level, where she'd hidden the real weapon: a camera drone, already recording.
They'd planned this.
Because if they couldn't destroy the secret…
They'd make sure the whole world saw it.
The footage went live thirty minutes later.
And the world did see.
Faces. Names. Deals.
The truth, finally unchained.
And in the chaos that followed—sirens, arrests, headlines—Lilac and Tristan disappeared.
Together.
Not running.
But chasing the next secret.
End of Chapter 4