The tension never left.
Not after the call.Not after Marcus's reaction.Not even as the hours passed and night settled over the city once again.
Helena felt it everywhere—like a shadow lingering just out of sight.
Watching. Waiting.
"You're not staying alone tonight."
Marcus's voice cut through the silence as he stood near the window, his phone in hand, issuing quiet orders to someone on the other end.
Helena crossed her arms. "I wasn't planning to."
He glanced at her briefly. "Good."
The conversation ended quickly, and he slipped the phone into his pocket. But the tension in his shoulders didn't ease.
For the first time since she had known him…
Marcus looked on edge.
That alone was enough to make her pulse quicken.
"Do you think they'll come here?" she asked.
"They already have," he replied calmly.
Her stomach dropped. "What?"
Marcus's gaze shifted toward the door, then the windows, then back to her. "You think a warning call is the first move?"
A chill ran down her spine.
"They're testing us," he continued. "Seeing how much we know."
Helena swallowed. "And how much do we know?"
His eyes darkened. "Not enough."
Silence fell again.
Heavy. Expectant.
And then—A sound.
Soft.
Barely there.
But unmistakable.
Helena froze. "Did you hear that?"
Marcus was already moving.
"Stay here," he ordered quietly.
"Absolutely not," she whispered back, following him anyway.
His jaw tightened, but he didn't argue.
The lights in the hallway flickered slightly as they moved, the air suddenly colder, heavier. Every step felt too loud, too exposed.
Then—A crash.
Glass shattered somewhere deeper inside the penthouse.
Helena gasped.
Marcus's hand instantly caught her wrist, pulling her behind him.
"Don't make a sound," he murmured.
Her heart pounded so loudly she was sure it would give them away.
Footsteps echoed faintly ahead.
Slow. Careful.
Someone was inside.
Marcus's grip tightened slightly as he moved forward, his body shielding hers instinctively.
For a moment, Helena forgot everything—the tension, the arguments, the kiss—
All that mattered was survival.
They reached the study.
The door was slightly open.
The lock… broken.
Marcus pushed it open slowly.
The room was a mess.
Drawers pulled out. Papers scattered across the floor.
And the window—Shattered.
Whoever it was… they were already gone.
Helena stepped inside, her breath uneven. "They were looking for something."
"Yes," Marcus said quietly.
His gaze swept the room quickly, calculating, analyzing.
Then—he stopped.
"What is it?" Helena asked.
He didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he walked toward the desk, crouching slightly.
Helena followed—and saw it.
A small object on the floor.
Out of place.
A flash drive.
Marcus picked it up slowly, his expression unreadable.
"They left something?" Helena frowned. "That doesn't make sense."
"No," he said quietly. "It doesn't."
Which meant—It wasn't a mistake.
It was intentional.
A message.
Or a trap.
Helena's pulse quickened. "What if it's connected to… what happened before?"
Marcus looked at her, his gaze sharp.
"It is," he said.
No hesitation.
No doubt.
Her breath caught.
"Then open it."
He held her gaze for a long moment.
Then—
"No."
Helena blinked. "What?"
"We don't know what's on it," he said. "Or who put it there."
"That's exactly why we need to see it," she argued.
"And walk straight into whatever they planned?"
His voice was calm—but firm.
Helena stepped closer. "Marcus… this might be the proof."
"The proof of what?" he challenged.
"That I didn't betray you."
Silence.
The words hung between them.
Heavy. Dangerous.
Marcus's grip tightened slightly around the flash drive.
"And if it's not?" he asked quietly.
Helena met his gaze.
"Then you can destroy me."
The room went still.
Because this time—She wasn't being dramatic.
She meant it.
Marcus stared at her, searching for hesitation.
Fear.
Anything.
But there was nothing.
Just truth.
Slowly…
He stood.
"Stay here," he said.
Helena shook her head immediately. "No."
"This isn't a discussion."
"Then neither is this," she shot back, stepping closer. "Whatever is on that drive… it's about me too."
A tense pause.
Then Marcus exhaled quietly.
"Fine."
He walked toward the desk, pulling his laptop closer.
Helena's heart pounded as she moved beside him.
This was it.
The moment everything could change.
Marcus inserted the flash drive.
The screen flickered.
Loaded.
One file.
Just one.
He clicked it.
The video began to play.
And within seconds—Helena's entire world shattered.