Damien's eyes stayed fixed on the name in Serena's hand like it was a loaded gun.
"Victor Hale," he repeated, as if saying it aloud might make it less dangerous.
Serena slipped the card back into her clutch, her gaze flicking to his face. "You know him."
Damien didn't answer immediately. He glanced toward the lounge entrance to ensure Cross was gone, then motioned for her to follow.
They left through the side exit into a narrow cobblestone street washed in the orange glow of old gas lamps. The air was cool, damp with the promise of rain. Damien didn't speak until they were inside his car, the doors sealed and the city muted.
---
Who Victor Hale Really Is
"Victor Hale is not a name you say in public," Damien said finally, his voice low. "Not unless you want to find yourself in a body bag."
"Helpful," Serena replied dryly. "Any chance you can be more specific?"
Damien's hands tightened on the steering wheel. "He's an asset broker. Not in the Wall Street sense—in the human sense. He buys and sells people's loyalty. Politicians, executives, entire security teams. And if he can't buy you, he finds a way to make you worthless to whoever's paying you."
Serena frowned. "Sounds like an ordinary fixer with better PR."
"No," Damien said flatly. "Fixers operate in shadows. Hale is the shadows. He doesn't just facilitate betrayal—he engineers it. He builds scenarios so people betray each other without realizing it until it's too late."
---
The Personal History
Serena turned slightly in her seat, studying him. "You've dealt with him before."
Damien's jaw ticked. "Once. Years ago. I was on the acquisition trail for a South African energy firm. Hale got to my COO before I could close the deal. One week later, the COO was working for my competitor, and the deal collapsed. The man had been with me for ten years. I thought I knew him."
Serena arched a brow. "And you never saw him again?"
"Oh, I saw him," Damien said, a cold edge to his voice. "In a hospital bed. A 'robbery gone wrong.'"
"And Hale?"
"Untouchable. I couldn't even prove he was in the same country."
---
Connecting the Dots
Serena thought about Cross's parting words. You won't get a second chance.
"If Hale's involved now, it means someone's paying him to destabilize us both," she said.
Damien nodded. "And he's already halfway there if Cross is in his pocket. Which means your cousin's probably next."
Her stomach tightened at the mention. "Leave her out of this."
"Can't," Damien replied. "If her name's on that list, she's either compromised or being groomed to be."
---
The Reluctant Alliance
For a long moment, neither spoke. The car rolled through the quiet streets, the hum of the engine the only sound.
Finally, Serena broke the silence. "We work together on this. Full transparency. No holding back."
Damien gave a humorless laugh. "You don't even trust me, Langford."
"That's exactly why it'll work," she said. "I don't trust you. You don't trust me. Which means we'll both be watching the other too closely to get stabbed in the back."
Damien glanced at her, and for the first time that night, something flickered in his eyes—not trust, but maybe a glimmer of respect.
---
The Plan
"Hale won't meet with either of us directly unless he wants to," Damien said. "He uses intermediaries—layers of them. The only way to get to him is to bait him into thinking we're vulnerable enough to be worth exploiting."
"You mean make ourselves look like we're falling apart," Serena said.
"Exactly. Public disputes, leaked arguments, sudden changes in business moves. Enough noise to make him believe he can step in and engineer the final fracture."
"And while he's busy setting his trap," Serena murmured, "we close ours around him."
---
The First Move
Damien reached into his jacket and pulled out a slim black folder. "I've been keeping tabs on certain people in the Paris market who've been sniffing around my deals. I suspect some of them are already tied to Hale. If we put you in contact with one or two of them—under the guise of you trying to undermine me—it might be enough to reach his network."
Serena flipped through the pages. High-profile names, each with a short profile and a list of weaknesses: gambling debts, hidden mistresses, offshore accounts.
"You keep dossiers like this on everyone?" she asked.
"Not everyone," Damien said. "Just the ones I can't afford to underestimate."
---
The Unspoken Tension
She closed the folder, their eyes meeting briefly. There was something charged in the silence—mutual recognition of the danger they were inviting, and perhaps a grudging acknowledgment that neither could do this without the other.
"This won't work if you start playing lone wolf," Serena warned.
"I could say the same to you," Damien replied.
For a beat, they just sat there, the air between them thick with unspoken challenges.
---
Back at Her Place
Damien dropped her off at her apartment. As she stepped out, he said, "One more thing. If you get a call from anyone offering a 'private negotiation' in the next week, say yes. That's how Hale starts his game."
She smirked faintly. "And here I thought you wanted me to avoid danger."
"I want you alive long enough to help me kill his operation," Damien said.
---
Later That Night
In her apartment, Serena poured herself a glass of wine and sat by the window. She took out the card again, tracing the letters of Victor Hale with her thumb.
Her phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
One message.
I hear you've been asking the right questions. Let's talk. —V.H.
She stared at it for a long moment before typing a single reply:
When and where?