The morning light in the safehouse wasn't golden like it was in the penthouse. It was a sharp, unforgiving grey that leaked through the grime on the single window.
I woke up with my head on Kyle's chest, the steady, heavy thrum of his heart beneath my ear. For a split second, I forgot we were being hunted. I forgot about the diamond collar. He felt like... a man. Not a Vanguard. Just a man who had nearly died.
Then, he shifted. A low hiss of pain escaped his teeth as he moved his bandaged leg.
"Don't move," I muttered, my voice thick with sleep. I sat up, pushing my tangled hair out of my face.
Kyle opened his eyes. The vulnerability from the night before was gone, replaced by the sharp, arrogant clarity of a CEO. He looked around the tiny room, his lip curling slightly at the sight of the chipped paint and the single, stained coffee mug on the counter.
"We need to go," he said, his voice a gravelly rasp. He tried to stand, but his leg buckled.
I caught his arm, steadying him. "You're not going anywhere, Kyle. Moretti didn't pack up and go home just because the sun came up. My scouts—the kids I pay in the neighborhood—say there are black SUVs circling every block within a mile."
"I have a board to answer to, Val. I have a father in a coma and an empire to hold together." He looked at my hand on his arm, then back at me. "I don't stay in holes like this."
"This 'hole' is the reason you're still breathing," I snapped, my loud mouth firing up. I walked over to the small stove and began heating water. "You want to go back to being the 'King of Milan'? Fine. But the king is currently broke and limping. You need me to get you past the perimeter."
Kyle watched me, his gaze heavy and calculating. He sat back down on the edge of the mattress, rubbing his face with his hands. "How?"
"Moretti expects you to move like a billionaire. He expects armored cars and sirens. He doesn't expect you to move like a ghost." I handed him a mug of black coffee—the cheap, bitter kind. "We're going through the sewer lines. They connect the Navigli canals to the basement of your headquarters."
Kyle looked at the coffee, then at me, an arrogant smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You want me to crawl through the sewers? You really are enjoying this, aren't you?"
"I'd enjoy it more if you complained less," I retorted. "And Kyle? If we make it back... the deal changes."
"Oh?" He leaned forward, the physical tension returning even in the cold morning light. "And what does the thief want now? More diamonds?"
"No. I want the key to the safe," I said, my voice dropping. "Not to steal from it. I want to know everything you have on me. Every photo, every ticket, every secret. If I'm going to be your 'bait,' I'm going to know exactly what the hook is made of."
Kyle went silent. The arrogance shifted into something darker, more private. He reached out, his fingers brushing the hem of my oversized hoodie.
"You'll have your answers," he whispered. "But if we do this, Val... if we go back into that world... there is no turning back. You won't just be my thief. You'll be my partner. And in my world, partners share everything. Especially the enemies."
The sirens sounded in the distance again, closer this time. The choice was made. We weren't just running anymore; we were preparing for a counter-strike.