Chicago learned about us at the Winter Harbor Gala.

Celeste insisted we attend.

"Acheron wants Leander isolated," she said. "If he disappears, markets panic. Allies scatter. We give them the opposite."

"A party," I said.

"A declaration."

Leander adjusted my tie in the back of the car.

"You can stay home."

"And miss canapés?"

"Rowan."

"I'm going."

His fingers remained at my throat.

"The contract does not require this."

"The contract stopped being useful weeks ago."

His hand fell.

"What replaced it?"

The car stopped.

Flashes burst beyond the window.

I opened the door. "Ask me after."

We entered together.

Reporters shouted Leander's name. One shouted mine. The sound tightened every muscle along my spine.

Leander's palm touched the space above my hip.

Not pressure. A point of reference.

I let it remain.

Inside, politicians and criminals drank beneath chandeliers. Often they were the same people.

Luca monitored cameras from the catering office. Celeste worked the room. Eli waited at the clinic under guard and complained by text every six minutes.

Leander led me onto the dance floor.

"I don't dance."

"You lied about piano."

"Poorly."

"Follow me."

"Men have died after saying that."

His arm circled my waist. "Try not to kill me until dessert."

We moved.

For thirty seconds, no one shot at us.

I almost relaxed.

Then the screens above the ballroom changed.

Photographs filled them.

Bodies. Contracts. Security footage.

My face leaving hotels across five countries.

NOCTURNE.

The room recoiled.

Leander pulled me against him as guards drew weapons.

A recording played through the speakers.

Adrian's voice described the Prague contract. Leander's payment. The companion agreement.

Laughter rippled from one table.

"He bought a killer for his bed," someone said.

Leander turned toward the voice.

I caught his lapel.

"Don't."

"He spoke about you."

"People do."

The windows shattered.

Smoke canisters rolled across the floor.

Guests stampeded.

Through the haze, a man seized my arm.

Leander shot him before I could turn.

Another attacker struck Leander from behind.

I caught the man's wrist, broke it, and drove him through a champagne tower.

Celeste shouted evacuation orders.

Luca's voice filled my earpiece. "Four shooters. North balcony. One headed for the service hall."

I saw a flash of white.

Mara.

She disappeared through the service door.

"Rowan, stay with me," Leander said.

I looked at the door.

Then at the blood spreading along his collar.

"You're hit."

"Glass."

"Check."

He lifted both hands.

No bullet wounds.

The hesitation cost us Mara.

By the time security cleared the building, she had vanished with Luca's laptop and the Acheron map.

Outside, cameras crowded the barricades.

Leander's advisers urged separate exits.

"The board can survive the crime allegations," one whispered. "Not the relationship."

Leander removed his overcoat and placed it around my shoulders.

Then he took my hand.

We walked through the front doors together.

Questions struck harder than the camera flashes.

"Mr. Cross, did you hire Nocturne?"

"Is Rowan Hale your employee?"

"Were the murders ordered by Cross Holdings?"

Leander stopped at the microphone line.

Celeste swore behind us.

He looked at me once.

"Rowan Hale is not my employee," he said. "He is not my possession. Any person who treats him as leverage will answer to me."

The crowd exploded.

In the car, I stared at our joined hands.

"That sounded possessive."

"It was intended as a warning."

"To the city?"

"To everyone."

My phone rang.

Eli's name lit the screen.

I answered.

Mara spoke.

"Come to the old Cross terminal alone," she said. "Or the replacement dies."

Behind her, Eli made one sharp sound.

The call ended.

Leander's grip tightened.

"No."

I looked through the window at Chicago.

The car entered a tunnel.

Darkness erased the reporters. For several seconds, only dashboard light remained.

"She wants both of us," I said.

"She asked for you."

"Acheron's map leads beneath your headquarters. Adrian spent years trying to compromise you. The gala exposed me, but it isolated you."

Leander's phone filled with board messages.

He turned it off.

"Then we give her neither."

"Eli does not have time for strategy."

"He signaled on the call."

I replayed the sound.

Not a cry.

One short breath. Pause. Two breaths.

Meridian code.

One captor. Two doors.

"He's alive," I said.

"And thinking."

The tunnel ended. City light moved over Leander's face.

"You noticed the signal," I said.

"I have studied your codes."

"Of course you have."

"I dislike being excluded from conversations about my death."

The car stopped at a red light.

On the sidewalk, a digital billboard replayed our exit from the gala. Leander's coat around my shoulders. Our hands linked.

The caption called me his paid lover.

I laughed.

"What?"

"They think you can afford me."

His mouth curved, then flattened.

"The contract amount was insulting."

"I negotiated poorly."

"You were tired."

"And distracted by your face."

He turned toward me.

The confession sat between us, absurdly naked.

"Say that again," he said.

"Never."

He reached for me, stopped, and waited.

The driver stared straight ahead.

I crossed the space and kissed Leander.

No gunshot followed.

No camera flashed.

His hand came to my jaw, careful at first. I caught his coat and pulled until careful broke.

When we separated, the light had turned green twice.

The driver remained silent.

"He deserves a raise," I said.

"He owns three buildings."

"Then I hate him."

Leander rested his forehead against mine.

"Come back from the terminal."

"Help me make that possible."

His eyes closed once.

When they opened, the criminal king had returned.

He called Celeste, Luca, and every loyal officer still answering his name.

By the time we reached the house, we had the beginning of a plan.

"We're beyond asking."

Back at the house, Leander's advisers packed files into black cases.

The board called every seven minutes. Banks froze two Cross accounts. Someone threw red paint across the front gate.

Leander ignored all of it.

He sat on the bedroom floor while I cleaned the cut on his neck.

"The city thinks I belong to you," I said.

"The city is stupid."

"You told them anyone who used me would answer to you."

"Accurate."

"It sounds like ownership."

His gaze shifted to the contract in the bedside drawer.

"I know."

He rose, crossed the room, and placed it between us.

"Tear it up."

I looked at his signature. Then mine.

"That would be dramatic."

"You enjoy drama."

"I enjoy your money."

"Keep everything already paid. Take the severance. The arrangement ends now."

The word ends landed badly.

I covered it with a smile. "Efficient."

Leander watched my face.

"That isn't what I want."

"What do you want?"

He stepped close, leaving the paper on the bed.

"You. Angry. Armed. Free to leave. Still here."

My throat closed.

"That is not a practical request."

"Neither are you."

His thumb brushed the cut on my knuckle.

"When this is over," he said, "I'll ask without a contract."

"And if I say no?"

"I'll leave the door open."

The phone rang again.

Eli.

Mara's voice replaced the future.

Still, when I walked out of the room, the contract remained on the bed.

Neither of us tore it.

Neither of us signed an amendment.

For the first time, the paper had no power at all.