Vincent moved around the desk, examining the multiple monitors with interest. "This setup is impressive. Very you."
"Functional," I agreed, watching him explore my domain. "Efficient."
I bent to retrieve something that had fallen during our fucking, a pen that had rolled beneath the desk. As I straightened, something caught my eye. A small black object, no larger than a button, nestled against one of the desk supports.
"What's this?" I muttered, examining the device.
A surveillance bug, expensive and sophisticated, designed to blend with the desk's black surface.
"Someone's been listening," I said, crushing the device between my fingers. The delicate electronics crumbled, rendered useless.
Vincent's eyes widened. "To... everything?"
"Probably." I examined the crushed remains, lowering my voice. "This isn't standard Pantheon surveillance. External. Professional grade."
"Zeus?" Vincent whispered, the name carrying new weight since Rhadamanthys's warning.
I gave him a warning look. Walls have ears, even when you think you've found them all. I continued my search. My hand unconsciously moved to my pocket, fingers brushing against the coin hidden there.
I swept the office methodically, muscle memory from a hundred searches guiding me. Two more bugs surfaced—one nestled in the light fixture, another clinging beneath my chair like a technological tick. I crushed each between my fingers, relishing the snap ofdelicate circuitry. Forty-eight confirmed kills, and now electronic eavesdroppers made forty-nine through fifty-one.
"They're watching already," Vincent observed, his expression grim. "Your first day as director."
"Good," I replied, dropping the crushed components into the trash. "Let them watch. Let them listen. It changes nothing."
Vincent studied me, concern evident in his eyes. "You're a target now."
"I've always been a target." I moved to him, taking his hands in mine. "The difference is now I have something worth fighting for."
He squeezed my hands, a small smile breaking through his concern. "We still have a few hours before Ana's fundraiser," he noted, glancing at his watch. "What's next on the director's agenda?"
I considered the crushed bugs, the coin in my pocket, the reforms waiting to be implemented. Challenges and dangers in every direction. But for now...
"Ordering some goddamn Trolli gummy worms," I declared, reaching for the phone. "Can't run an assassination organization without proper sugar intake."
Vincent stepped behind me, arms circling my waist, chin resting on my shoulder as I placed the order. "You know, I was thinking about that day you showed up at my door covered in blood."
I laughed. “I thought for sure you’d never trust me. Especially after I lied to you about my name and everything.”
His lips brushed my neck. "But look at us now. You're sitting in his chair. Your sister remembers who she is. You've broken every chain he ever put on you."
I turned in his arms, facing him. "Not without help."
"No," he agreed, his eyes holding mine. "But you made the choice. That first day in my office when you decided not to kill me. Every step since then. Those were your choices, Luka."
My throat tightened. I cupped his face in my hands, struck again by this miracle—that after everything, after all the blood and violence, I'd somehow found this. Found him.
"I love you," I said simply, the words still new enough to feel strange on my tongue.
"I love you too," he replied. "Even if you are the most dangerous director in Pantheon history."
"Especially because," I corrected, kissing him lightly.
"So," Vincent said, "did you choose your official designation yet? Every director needs their Greek deity name, right?"
I nodded. "Ares. God of war." I shrugged at his knowing smile. "Seemed fitting. Direct. No bullshit. Just war and bloodshed when necessary."
"Perfect for you," Vincent agreed. "Though I half expected you to choose Hermes, just to annoy everyone with your unpredictability."
