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Chapter 20 - 20. Shadows at Dawn

The morning after felt deceptively still.

Sunlight streamed through the penthouse windows in soft, golden threads, wrapping Ava in warmth she no longer trusted. She sat at the edge of Damien's bed, one of his shirts still clinging to her frame like a second skin, but the quiet was temporary. An illusion before the storm.

Damien stood at the floor-to-ceiling window, shirtless, hands braced on the glass. His reflection was fractured by the light, and his eyes were locked on something distant, not the skyline, but war.

Ava rose and joined him.

"Lucien's already gone?" she asked.

He nodded. "He's running surveillance on Helena's estates and private security movements. We'll only get one clean shot at this."

Ava exhaled. "And if we miss?"

Damien turned to her, gaze sharp and soft at once. "Then I make sure no one ever finds her body."

There was no bravado in his tone. Just promise.

She reached for him, hand resting over his chest. "You're not doing this alone."

"I won't let her touch you again."

"I'm not the same girl she marked," Ava said quietly. "I'm not weak anymore."

A silence passed between them — charged, fragile — until his hand covered hers.

"I know."

---

Later that day, they met Lucien at a hidden safehouse in the countryside, a high-tech bunker disguised as a vineyard cellar. The air inside smelled of cold stone and steel, humming with data screens and encrypted signals.

"She's moving money," Lucien said without preamble. "Fast. Pulling out from her shell corporations and realigning assets to an offshore account in Geneva."

Ava frowned. "She's preparing to disappear."

Lucien tapped a keyboard. "Or preparing to buy someone."

"She doesn't need money. She needs control," Damien muttered. "Power's always been her currency."

Lucien nodded. "Which is why she's holding a private event in two nights. A masquerade. Not charity but cover. She's gathering allies."

Damien's eyes narrowed. "Then we need to be there."

Lucien looked between them. "Both of you? That's a risk."

Ava straightened. "It's my face on that kill list. I'm not hiding."

There was a flicker of something proud in Damien's expression. He didn't argue.

---

The Night of the Masquerade 

The Vale estate was a fortress — manicured hedges, mirrored fountains, and an entrance flanked by armed guards dressed like servants. Every guest wore masks of gold and obsidian, glittering under chandeliers that swung like dangerous pendulums.

Ava stepped from the car first.

Her mask was a delicate crescent of black lace and crystal, framing her eyes like midnight secrets. The gown she wore was dark navy velvet, slit high, sleeveless, the open back revealing smooth skin and a dagger sheathed just beneath her spine.

Damien's gaze flicked over her like a protective blade.

"You don't need to prove anything to her," he murmured as he adjusted his own mask — matte black, minimal. Wolf-like.

Ava's voice was calm. "I'm not here to prove anything."

"Then why are you here?"

She looked him dead in the eye. "To finish it."

---

Inside, the estate pulsed with soft music and whispered power. Helena Vale was nowhere to be seen, but her presence was everywhere — in the tense smiles, in the tightly held champagne flutes, in the way everyone turned slightly toward the shadows, as if expecting her to step out and declare who lived and who died.

Lucien worked the floor discreetly, dressed like one of the hired staff. Ava and Damien moved like predators — separate at first, then drawn together by invisible gravity.

She felt eyes on her.

Not Damien's.

Not Lucien's.

Hers.

Helena watched from above, standing on a mezzanine balcony in silver. Her mask was sculpted and impassive, like a statue of some ancient goddess of war.

And Ava smiled right at her.

The crowd parted like silk.

And Helena descended.

---

"You've grown," Helena said smoothly, the words threading through Ava's skin like poison silk. "And yet, here you are — still wrapped around a man with your father's face."

Damien tensed beside her, but Ava stepped forward.

"No. I'm wrapped around the man who kept me alive."

Helena's smile sharpened. "And how long do you think that will last?"

Ava leaned closer, voice like a scalpel. "Longer than your empire."

Then she slipped a USB from her clutch and handed it to the guard behind Helena.

"Consider this your invitation to burn."

Helena glanced at the device. She didn't even flinch. "You think data will ruin me? I wrote the damn playbook."

Damien's voice cut like ice. "Then you know how the story ends."

Helena's gaze flicked to him. "I should have killed you both when I had the chance."

"Try now," Ava whispered. "And see what happens."

---

They left before midnight — calm, composed, their message delivered.

But as the car pulled away, Ava's breath shook once — just once.

Damien caught it.

"Did I lose you in there?" he asked.

She shook her head. "No. I just realized I'm not scared of her anymore."

Damien took her hand.

"You don't need to be."

And when he kissed the back of it, slow and solemn, Ava realized something else:

The war hadn't ended.

But the fear had.

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