Zara's POV.
Dubai's streets did not sleep. Neon signs burned hot against the desert night, casting violet and emerald streaks across the polished steel of skyscrapers. The air hummed with the thrum of sports cars and the hiss of motorcycles slicing through traffic. And in the middle of it all, we were running for our lives.
The world blurred into streaks of gold and crimson light as Leo pulled me through the Dubai night. Tires screeched behind us, engines howled, and every passing second screamed one word into my bones—run.
The alleys of Deira twisted like a maze, neon signs flickering over us, Arabic letters bleeding red and blue on the walls as we bolted past startled vendors and overturned fruit carts. I could hear the motorcycle—low, guttural, relentless—like a predator circling closer with every turn.
"Left!" Leo barked, yanking me into a narrow passageway. His hand was rough, steady, but his grip trembled with urgency.
"They're gaining on us!" I gasped, my breath burning my lungs.
He didn't answer—he just shoved a dumpster over behind us, sending it crashing into the rider's path. But the engine revved louder, and with a metallic roar, the bike burst over the obstacle like it was nothing.
The rider's helmeted head turned for just a second. And in that flash, I swore I saw a familiar curve of a jawline. My stomach dropped. No. It couldn't be…
We scaled an iron staircase bolted into a crumbling hotel wall, every step clanging like gunfire in the night. I hauled myself up after Leo, lungs burning, until we spilled onto the rooftop. Behind me, Leo was a shadow of raw speed and precision, but even he was panting. We had been running for blocks, chased by the faceless rider who had hunted us like prey. And now, here.
Dubai stretched endlessly around us—towers of glass and steel glittering, highways buzzing with traffic, the harbor lights blinking faintly in the distance. Freedom looked close, but the roar of the bike below made it feel impossible.
"We're cornered," I whispered.
"No." Leo's jaw tightened. His eyes burned with that dangerous fire I'd only seen when everything was on the line. "We take higher ground."
He grabbed my hand and pulled me into a sprint across the rooftops, leaping gaps between buildings as if the city itself dared us to fall. The wind whipped my hair, my shoes skidded on the gravel, but fear sharpened my focus.
Behind us, impossibly, the rider followed—racing up ramps, launching the bike over narrow alleyways like a demon that had no regard for gravity. Every stunt defied reason. Every stunt screamed this wasn't a stranger.
Because only someone who knew us—really knew us—could hunt this close.
<<<<<
Leo's POV.
The rooftops were never forgiving. One wrong step and you were a memory splattered on the concrete below. But I didn't have the luxury of fear. Zara's hand was trembling in mine, her breath shallow, but she was keeping up—and I wasn't about to let her fall.
The rider cut across the roof below us, engine snarling, eyes locked on us like a hawk circling prey. I recognized the precision of their movements. The way they leaned just so before each jump. The way they never hesitated.
And I knew. My chest tightened. Rage—or was it heartbreak?—burned in my throat.
"Leo!" Zara cried as I skidded to a stop near the edge of the last rooftop. Below, the harbor shimmered, filled with moored yachts rocking gently in the night tide.
"We don't have time—" she started, but then the rider was there, climbing the opposite wall like a phantom, the bike's headlight washing us in blinding white.
"Get behind me," I growled.
The rider dismounted, boots crunching gravel, and for the first time, silence fell. Just the wind. Just the muffled horn of a ship. Just the sound of betrayal breathing in the dark.
"Take off the helmet," I demanded, fists curling.
Boots hit gravel. The rider stood before us, helmet gleaming under the moon. He—or she—tipped their head once before pulling it off. The rider tilted their head—mocking, casual—then unclipped the strap. The helmet came off in one fluid motion.
Zara gasped. My stomach dropped. It wasn't a stranger. It wasn't an assassin.
It was someone we'd trusted. Someone who had once sworn loyalty. Someone whose absence had been gnawing at me for weeks.
Aria. Her smirk was sharper than the night air. "Miss me?"
<<<<<
Zara's POV.
I froze. My heart didn't just stop—it shattered.
A cascade of dark hair. A smirk. Eyes sharp enough to cut glass.
"Aria," Leo breathed.
Aria. His old partner. The one who vanished without a trace. The one who was supposed to be dead. Not just some faceless assassin — but standing here, pistol at her thigh, betrayal written in every smile line I once thought was loyalty.
The rooftop wind whipped her hair as if even the city knew she wasn't someone to trust. She tilted her head, gaze flicking to me like she'd already measured my worth and found me disposable.
"You were—" My voice cracked.
"Dead?" She laughed, sharp as glass. "Please, Zara. Don't believe every headline."
Leo stepped forward, fury radiating off him. "Why?"
"Because the game was rigged," she said, her smile fading. "Because the people you think are after you?" She tapped her temple. "They're not your enemies. You are."
"Still running from ghosts, partner?"
Leo froze. I saw it — the recognition, the history, the storm he tried to bury.
My fists clenched. "You know her?"
His jaw tightened. "I thought she was dead."
Aria smirked. "Maybe I am."
Then she moved — lightning-fast, a blade cutting silence. Her kick sent Leo stumbling, her elbow barely missed my temple. She fought with precision, every strike controlled, testing us.
"You're slowing down, Leo."
He snarled, blocking her. "What the hell are you doing here?"
She leaned close, whispering as their arms locked. "Same thing as you. Chasing the truth. Only difference…" her lips curled, "…I already know how this ends."
She shoved him into me. We tumbled back. By the time we recovered, she was sprinting toward the docks. And damn it—she wanted us to follow.
<<<<<
Leo's POV.
I hadn't seen Aria in two years. I buried her with the rest of my past—under files, blood, and lies. Seeing her alive wasn't relief. It was a curse.
Because Aria never came back without setting fire to your life.
Zara was already running, eyes blazing. I wanted to stop her, but Aria had answers we couldn't ignore.
We chased across rooftops, the city blurring below. Neon, horns, and the harbor lights ahead like a promise.
At the last rooftop, Aria jumped. Straight onto a moving cargo truck, rolled, and landed at the docks like a predator claiming her ground.
By the time we caught up, she wasn't alone.
A half-circle of armed men waited, rifles glinting under the floodlights.
"Ambush," Zara hissed.
"No," I muttered, eyes locked on Aria. "Invitation."
She stepped into the center, twirling a pistol like it belonged in her hand.
"Leo, you were always good at running," she called. "But tonight? Let's see if you're any good at surviving."
The men raised their guns.
I yanked Zara into cover as bullets ripped the docks apart. We fired back, the harbor exploding into chaos.
Aria moved through the fight like smoke — never hit, never choosing a side. One second she disarmed a rifleman, the next she let another slip past carrying a steel briefcase that screamed important.
"She's playing us," Zara spat.
"I know." My blood boiled, but my eyes stayed on Aria. Calm. Serene. Like this was her game all along.
Then it happened. A gunman behind me raised his weapon. I didn't see him. But Aria did. Her bullet cut him down before mine even chambered.
She saved me. And smiled — a smile that said You owe me. By the time the smoke cleared, the men and the briefcase were gone. Aria stood alone, moonlight crowning her like a fallen angel.
"Next time," she said, locking eyes with me, "don't make me choose who lives."
Then she vanished into the shadows, leaving only questions.
<<<<<
Zara's POV.
I stared at Leo, chest heaving, heart pounding.
"She saved you," I whispered.
His jaw clenched. "She betrayed me."
And somehow, both were true. The harbor was silent now. But inside me, everything screamed. Because one thing was certain. Aria wasn't just part of Leo's past. She was our future problem.