They were back at Kairo's apartment.
The air was heavy—not with danger, but with everything left unsaid. Photos littered the floor, the evidence of a cursed history. And yet, for a moment, neither of them looked at any of it.
Selene stood by the window, the glow of city lights brushing her skin in silver.
"I don't know who I am in this story anymore," she said softly. "The spy? The liar? The girl who stayed too long?"
Kairo walked up behind her.
"You're the only one who didn't run," he said. "That has to mean something."
She turned slowly. Their eyes locked—bruised by guilt and grief, but burning all the same.
"This could ruin everything," she whispered.
"Everything's already ruined," he murmured.
He kissed her.
It wasn't gentle. It was desperate. A silent scream wrapped in touch. She kissed him back just as hard—fingers tangled in his hair, her back pressed against the wall as if the world might fall if they let go.
Clothes fell without ceremony. Breaths turned ragged. The room narrowed down to skin, warmth, the feel of another heart trying to beat in sync with your own.
For Kairo, it wasn't about lust.
It was about presence—proof that for once, someone hadn't turned to a shadow yet.
When they finally collapsed into each other, limbs tangled and the night pressing close, Selene whispered into the hollow of his neck:
"Promise me… you won't look at me the same way you looked at the others."
Kairo touched her cheek.
"I don't."
But neither of them said what they were really thinking.
That nothing that burns this bright ever lasts.
Kairo woke to the sound of glass cracking.
Selene was still asleep beside him, curled into his chest, the last traces of a stolen night clinging to the air. For once, there was no war, no guilt. Just warmth.
But then it shattered.
He sat up quickly. The living room window was broken. A brick on the floor. A small red envelope tied to it.
He pulled it open.
Inside: a photo.
Freshly printed.
It was them. Last night. Mid-kiss. Mid-desperation. Mid-truth.
Taken from outside his apartment.
He turned the photo over.
In sharp, angular handwriting:
"You finally chose.
Now let me show you what it costs."
Selene stirred. Saw the look on his face. Saw the photo.
Her breath caught. "She was here?"
"She's always been here," Kairo said coldly.
Another envelope slid through the door.
Lina's name was written on it.
Kairo grabbed it and tore it open—
Another photo.
But this time it wasn't of him.
It was Lina, tied to a chair. Gagged. Eyes wide with fear.
And behind her, holding the camera?
Vera.
Kairo's voice cracked. "She took her."
Selene was already up, pulling on her coat. "We need to find her. Now."
But Kairo didn't move right away.
His hands were shaking. Not from fear—
From guilt.
Because Vera had waited until he was at his most vulnerable—until he had finally opened himself to someone again—and then she struck.
And now someone else he loved was going to pay the price.