The folder Marco handed over was thick, the edges worn, the paper inside already smudged from too many anxious fingers. Gabe took it without a word, flipping it open as the faint glow of dawn bled through the fractured windows.
Lottie lingered a few feet away, still trying to calm her racing pulse, the imprint of Gabe's kiss burning against her lips. Her body ached from exhaustion, but her mind was far from tired—it was a storm, colliding emotions and questions swirling in relentless succession.
She watched Gabe's eyes move over the documents, his jaw tightening with every page. His shoulders, broad and steady, stiffened like a wall bracing for impact.
"What is it?" she asked, her voice softer than she intended.
Marco glanced at her, then at Gabe, silently seeking permission. Gabe didn't look up. "Vitale's been busy. He's pulling in reinforcements from out of state. Former mercenaries. Men who owe him. And…" His tone shifted, dropping lower. "…he's not the only one."
Lottie frowned, stepping closer. "What do you mean, not the only one?"
Gabe finally lifted his gaze, and for a heartbeat, she wished he hadn't. The darkness there was too heavy, too raw. "Another syndicate. Someone from the old world is moving. Vitale's baiting us into thinking he's the main threat, but this—" he tapped the folder sharply "—this says otherwise."
Marco crossed his arms. "The timing isn't coincidence. Someone wants chaos. And they're using Vitale's obsession with Lottie as the spark."
Her stomach twisted, cold dread pooling in her chest. "So I'm just leverage? A piece on the board?"
"No." Gabe's answer was immediate, sharp, final. He closed the folder with a snap and set it aside, his eyes pinning her with fierce intensity. "You're not leverage. You're the one thing Vitale knows he can't control. That makes you more dangerous than he realizes."
The words lit something inside her—a flicker of defiance, of strength—but it was tangled in fear. Dangerous. She didn't want to be dangerous. She wanted to be free.
Before she could reply, Marco's radio buzzed. A clipped voice on the other end rattled off updates: guards repositioning, drones sweeping the perimeter, the city streets alive with whispers of Vitale's men. Marco responded in low tones, efficient as always, before cutting the line.
"We've got two hours, maybe less, before the next move," Marco said grimly. He gave Lottie a quick nod, then turned to Gabe. "Handle her. I'll tighten the perimeter."
Handle her. The words grated, but she didn't argue. Marco left, the heavy door thudding shut behind him, leaving her and Gabe in the charged silence of the war room.
Gabe exhaled slowly, dragging a hand down his face. For the first time, he looked tired—not the kind of tired that came from lack of sleep, but the bone-deep weariness of a man carrying too much.
Lottie's chest ached. Against her better judgment, she stepped closer. "You don't have to do this alone, you know."
His eyes found hers, unreadable. "I do."
"No." She shook her head, the defiance in her voice surprising even herself. "You think you do, but you don't. You don't have to protect me from everything. You don't have to carry this war by yourself. Let me—" She broke off, swallowing hard. "Let me stand with you."
The air between them thickened. Gabe studied her, his gaze searching, weighing, testing. And then, slowly, deliberately, he closed the distance.
"You don't know what you're asking," he said quietly. His voice was low, rough, like gravel dragged over steel. "If I let you stand with me, Lottie… there's no going back. You'll be bound to this war, this life, to me. You'll burn in it."
Her breath trembled, but her resolve didn't. "Then let me burn."
The last shred of restraint snapped.
Gabe's hands were on her before she could think, pulling her against him, his mouth claiming hers in a kiss that stole every ounce of air from her lungs. It wasn't gentle, wasn't careful—it was possession, fire, desperation colliding all at once. His grip was firm at her waist, anchoring her as if afraid she might vanish, while his other hand threaded into her hair, tilting her head back to deepen the kiss.
She melted into him, her body betraying every logical thought. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, clinging as though he was the only solid thing left in a collapsing world. The taste of him—smoke, danger, and something darker—flooded her senses until there was nothing else.
When they finally broke apart, breathless, foreheads pressed together, Gabe's voice came out ragged. "You undo me, Lottie. Every wall I built, every line I swore I'd never cross—you destroy them."
Her chest tightened painfully. "Then stop fighting it."
He shook his head, his grip tightening just enough to make her feel the conflict running through him. "If I stop… there's no saving us. This world doesn't forgive love. It destroys it."
Her lips trembled, her heart hammering so loud she swore he could hear it. "Maybe it's not about saving us. Maybe it's about surviving together, even if the world burns."
The silence that followed was heavier than gunfire. Gabe's eyes burned with something raw, dangerous, unspoken. And then, for the second time that night, he kissed her—slower this time, deeper, like a promise he didn't dare make out loud.
The kiss lingered, stretching into forever, until the world outside intruded again.
The alarm blared.
A shrill, piercing sound cut through the estate, dragging them back into reality. Gabe tore himself away, already moving, already command once more.
"Stay close," he ordered, his voice back to steel though his eyes still flickered with fire. "No matter what happens, you don't leave my side."
Lottie's pulse still thundered from the kiss, from the confession he hadn't spoken but she had felt in every touch. And yet, as she followed him out of the war room, she knew the fire between them was only just beginning.
Because love, in their world, wasn't salvation. It was war.
And she was ready to fight it.