The night air was thick with tension, each breath tasting like a promise of chaos. Adrian stood at the edge of the rooftop, his dark coat flapping lightly in the wind. Below, the city glittered in fractured lights, each one a secret he wasn't sure he wanted to know. Beside him, Nora leaned against the cold rail, her eyes sharp, scanning the street like she could see straight through the asphalt into the sins buried underneath.
They had escaped one danger only to tumble into another. The Blacklist wasn't gone; it had simply shifted its mask.
"You know," Nora said finally, her voice dry with a hint of mockery, "most people would be celebrating right now. We survived. Again."
"Survival isn't victory," Adrian muttered. "It's just another move on the board."
Her lips curved slightly, though it wasn't exactly a smile. "And what's the next move, chess master?"
He didn't answer right away. His gaze followed a black SUV that had just parked across the street. Two men in suits stepped out, scanning the area with an efficiency that screamed trained professionals. "We meet him," Adrian said. "And we see if he's willing to sell his soul for a price."
"Or if he's here to buy ours," Nora countered.
Minutes later, they were in the back of a dimly lit underground bar. The air smelled like whiskey, cigarette smoke, and bad intentions. The man waiting for them sat in a corner booth, his sharp features lit by a single hanging bulb. His name was Viktor Drakov — a man whispered about in Blacklist circles as the kind of devil who didn't just make deals, he owned the contracts for your soul.
"Mr. Black," Viktor greeted in a low, accented voice, his icy blue eyes moving from Adrian to Nora. "And the lovely shadow at your side. I've heard about you."
Nora arched a brow. "Only lovely? That's disappointing."
Viktor smirked, sliding a glass of dark amber liquid toward her. "Careful. Beauty in this business is just another form of weapon. You might cut me before we're done."
"And you might bleed easier than you think," she shot back.
Adrian didn't bother with small talk. "You have something we need."
Viktor leaned back, swirling his drink. "And you have something I want."
"What's that?"
He smiled, slow and cold. "Information. There's a leak inside your team. Someone feeding Blacklist moves straight to the people hunting me."
Adrian's jaw tightened. The possibility had been gnawing at him since their last operation went sideways. "Name."
Viktor shook his head. "Names cost more than money. You'll do a job for me, and I'll hand you your traitor on a silver platter."
"Let me guess," Nora said, crossing her legs. "This isn't the kind of job that leaves anyone clean."
"Clean?" Viktor chuckled darkly. "Darling, we're all already dirty. I just want to see how deep you're willing to bury yourselves."
The job was simple on paper: steal a ledger from a Blacklist-controlled auction in the heart of the city. But in their world, "simple" meant there would be bullets, betrayal, and blood before breakfast.
Later that night, in the safehouse, Adrian paced like a caged wolf. Nora watched him, sipping coffee that had gone cold hours ago. "You're thinking about the leak."
"I'm thinking about how Viktor knew about it before I did," Adrian replied. "Which means the traitor's been talking to him, too."
"Or he's playing you," she said. "Feeding you just enough truth to keep you dancing to his tune."
He stopped, meeting her gaze. "Either way, we dance."
The auction was hosted in a glass-walled skyscraper, the kind of place where rich men drank thousand-dollar wine while trading in human misery. Adrian wore a tailored black suit, his hair slicked back to match the sharp lines of his jaw. Nora was beside him in a red dress that looked like it had been poured onto her, every step a calculated distraction.
They moved through the crowd like they belonged there, smiling politely, sipping champagne, while their eyes mapped every exit, every guard, every camera.
Adrian's earpiece crackled. "We've got movement," whispered Cole — one of his longest-serving allies. "Two Blacklist heavies just walked in."
"Names?" Adrian murmured, never breaking his charming smile.
Cole hesitated. "One of them is Marcus."
Adrian froze for half a second. Marcus was supposed to be running security at the safehouse — not here, rubbing shoulders with the enemy.
The fake betrayal fell into place like a trap snapping shut.
As if on cue, Marcus's gaze found him across the room. His expression was unreadable. Then he turned, shaking hands with a man Adrian recognized instantly — a Blacklist handler.
"Don't react," Nora whispered, her hand brushing his lightly. The touch looked flirtatious to anyone watching, but it was grounding him. "If this is what I think it is, they want you to explode."
Instead, Adrian smiled wider, raising his glass toward Marcus like greeting an old friend. He didn't miss the flicker of surprise in Marcus's eyes.
The ledger was locked in a glass case at the center of the auction floor, the starting bid climbing higher with every passing second. Nora moved first, feigning interest in an art piece while subtly slipping a signal jammer from her clutch. Cameras fizzled, feeds froze.
Adrian moved in like a shadow, picking the lock with practiced precision. The ledger slid into his jacket just as the alarms screamed to life.
Chaos erupted. Guards surged forward. Marcus's voice cut through the noise, shouting, "They've got the book!" — and for a heartbeat, Adrian thought the betrayal was real.
Then Marcus was beside him, shoving a guard back, growling, "Move!"
They fought their way out together, bullets shattering glass, footsteps pounding across marble. In the getaway car, Marcus finally spoke.
"They told me you'd never trust me again if I didn't make it look real," he said, sweat dripping down his temples. "Viktor set this up. Wanted to see how far you'd go."
Adrian stared at him, then at Nora, who just shook her head in quiet amusement. "The devil really does like to play," she said.
Back at the safehouse, Viktor was waiting, sipping their best whiskey like he owned the place. "Well done," he said smoothly. "Ledger for the name?"
Adrian tossed the book onto the table. "Talk."
Viktor smiled. "Your leak is closer than you think."
When he spoke the name, Adrian felt the air leave the room. It wasn't who he expected. Not even close.