Inside the bunker, Jonas stood still, confusion tightening his chest as he stared at the unexpected visitors. For three years, he had been a ghost—vanished without a trace. No one knew where he lived. No one was supposed to.
Yet here they were.
"Can I help you?" he asked, forcing politeness into his tone as he moved slowly toward the sofa, every step measured, quiet… suspicious.
Before anyone could respond, a door behind him creaked open.
A woman stepped out.
She looked younger than Jonas—late thirties, perhaps—but her presence was arresting. Smooth, youthful skin. Effortless beauty. Her nightgown clung to her body, ending mid-thigh, accentuating her figure in a way that demanded attention without trying.
"Babe, I got the tortillas—"
Her voice cut off.
She froze. Her eyes narrowed. This… was new.
Natasha shifted slightly behind the armed men. From where Jonas stood, he had only counted three.
"Hi, Jonas," Natasha said, her voice awkward, almost careful.
Recognition hit him like a shockwave.
Jonas reacted instantly—his hand darted for a gun, raising it toward them in one fluid motion. The men mirrored him, weapons snapping into position. But Natasha didn't move. She simply raised her hands slowly into the air.
That hesitation confused Ruben—and the others.
The room tightened.
"What are you doing?" Roberts whispered.
Jonas didn't take his eyes off Natasha. "What are you doing here?"
His pulse thundered.
Natasha studied him closely, her gaze sharp. "Why are you scared, Jonas?"
A beat.
"Who else knows you're here?" Jonas fired back.
Across the room, Simon's attention drifted—not to the guns, not to the tension—but to the woman.
She was calm. Too calm.
Standing there with tortillas in her hands, she looked almost… bored.
Then she moved toward a switch.
Simon's eyes widened—but he was too late.
A sharp jolt ripped through their bodies.
Then—
Darkness.
Unconscious bodies hit the ground one after the other.
Jonas blinked, stunned. "Sara—"
"I know them," he added quickly, his shoulders dropping as the immediate threat dissolved.
Sara didn't look impressed.
"Our dinner is getting burnt," she said with a shrug before turning and walking back toward the kitchen as if nothing had happened.
Sometime later…
The visitors were tied to chairs in what felt like an entirely different space—a sterile white room with no visible entrance. Their hands were bound behind their backs, socks stuffed into their mouths.
Jonas wiped dust from his hands, stepping back after securing the last knot on Simon.
Simon groaned, stirring.
Nearby, Sara leaned lazily against a table laid out with tools—a hammer, knives, a cutter… guns. Her posture suggested boredom, but the setup said otherwise.
"We're not torturing them," Jonas said flatly.
Sara raised a brow. "Straight to killing, then?"
Simon stepped forward, grabbing a container of water. "There must be a reason they're here," he said before splashing it across all of them at once.
They jolted awake—confused, disoriented.
They slowly became aware. Trapped.
"That one," Simon added, nodding toward Natasha, "was Paige's best friend."
The air shifted.
Meanwhile…
Inside the car, the atmosphere was suffocating.
Xavier sat frozen, all color drained from his face. His thoughts spiraled—questions colliding, truths unraveling. He had always known his father kept secrets.
But this?
Was he… stolen?
A sudden burst of laughter shattered the tension.
"I got you."
Blue laughed—freely, uncontrollably.
Xavier blinked, reality snapping back into place.
A prank.
He exhaled sharply, releasing a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.
"You've got jokes, huh?" he muttered, recovering quickly.
He leaned in, pressing a trail of kisses along her neck as she laughed over him.
Blue pulled back slightly, removing her shirt with slow confidence. Xavier paused—momentarily caught off guard. She was striking. Flawless in a way that felt almost deliberate. Her breasts were tender, fresh, and captivating. At the center of her chest, a small black mole drew the eye—subtle, but unforgettable.
He nibbles his nose against her nipple. She moans in pleasure.
He leaned in again, captivated, his restraint slipping as she responded with soft, involuntary sounds.
Outside the casino, Lisa stepped out.
She looked tense—searching.
Then she saw the Audi.
The tinted windows revealed nothing.
But inside, Blue saw everything. Without a word, she quietly unlocked the car.
A smirk curved her lips.
Lisa reached the car and opened the door.
And froze.
Shock. Anger. Something darker flickered in her eyes.
Blue didn't break eye contact.
Instead, she leaned into the moment—amplifying it, letting out a tense, deliberate sound meant to provoke her. And it worked.
Lisa snapped.
She yanked Xavier back, pulling him away with force.
"Xavier, what the hell?" she shrieked.
But Xavier didn't look shocked. He looked irritated.
Cold.
"What do you want?" he asked, his voice cutting.
Lisa faltered. For a split second, something in his eyes unsettled her—something familiar… something dangerous.
Xavier turned back to Blue, ignoring Lisa completely. He adjusted her clothing with unexpected care, his movements deliberate, almost intimate.
Lisa watched. And something in her cracked.
He had never looked at her like that. Never touched her like that.
Who was this woman?
Unable to take another second, Lisa slammed the car door and stormed off.
Blue watched her leave, satisfied.
"You heard her coming, didn't you?" she asked, slipping her jacket on.
Xavier smirked. "I saw when you unlocked the door."
He pinched her nose playfully.
She rolled her eyes.
Moments later, they stepped out of the car and walked toward the casino.
Confidence. Control. Precision.
"So…" Blue said, adjusting her gold stripped gun at her waist with effortless familiarity, "who's our first victim together?"
Xavier's grin sharpened.
"You'll see."
He pulled her closer.
"But first—let's take a bath."
Together, they stepped into the elevator just a step into the casino.