"Well, if it isn't my favorite dead man walking," Lo's familiar voice trilled through the speaker. "Having fun playing house with Dr. Hottie?"
"Lo," I breathed, relief flooding through me. "You got my things?"
"Of course I did. Your collection is perfectly safe with me," he replied with his typical dramatic flair. "Meanwhile, your little rooftop drama caused quite the stir. The Pantheon's in complete meltdown. They've called in every marker from Miami to Montreal. Word is they're offering double bounty for your heads."
My blood turned to ice. "How bad?"
"Bad enough I heard Rhadamanthys is flying in."
I winced. "So I heard."
"Word is Prometheus is taking it personally," Lo said
"Listen, Lo. I need you to dig up everything you can on Vincent Matthews. Professional history, personal connections, anything that might explain why someone wanted him dead."
"Already on it, sweetheart. The mystery therapist has me intrigued." Lo paused, then added, "But Luka... be careful. This feels bigger than just a contract gone wrong."
"Keep digging," I said. "And Lo? Thanks. I owe you."
"Damn right you do. Risking my precious beauty sleep for your drama." His voice softened fractionally. "Stay alive, Luka. I'd hate to have to break in a new roommate."
The call ended, leaving me staring at the blank screen.
"Bad news?" Vincent asked quietly.
I looked up, meeting his eyes. "The worst. The Pantheon isn't just trying to kill us now. They've called in every favor, doubled the bounty. This isn't just about a failed contract anymore."
Vincent sank onto the couch, the weight of our situation finally seeming to hit him. "I can't believe this is happening. Yesterday, my biggest concern was whether my fern was getting enough light."
"Yesterday, I was planning how to kill you," I reminded him, dropping onto the couch beside him. "Today, I'm planning how to keep you alive. Funny how quickly things change."
He turned to face me, eyes searching mine. "Why didn't you do it? You had three weeks. Multiple opportunities. Why hesitate?"
The question hung between us, deceptively simple yet impossibly complex. I'd been asking myself the same thing since I first received the contract.
"I don't know," I admitted finally. "At first, I told myself I was being thorough. Then that I was building a comprehensive profile. But the truth is... You were the first target who seemed like an actual person to me. Not just a photograph and a dossier. Watching you care for your plants, help that homeless woman, talk down to your patients... it changed something."
Vincent's expression softened. "In therapist terms, we'd call that empathy development. Recognizing another person's humanity conflicts with your conditioned objectification of targets."
"There he goes with the psychology bullshit again," I muttered, but without heat.
A small smile played at his lips. "Sorry. Professional hazard."
Silence settled between us, almost comfortable despite our dire circumstances. Outside our windows, the Acropolis continued its eternal business. Killers, fixers, and information brokers moved through marble corridors while conducting their deadly commerce.
Vincent examined my bloodied face critically. "We need to properly clean those cuts. And your nose needs ice before it swells even more."
"You planning to play doctor now?" I smirked, but winced as the movement pulled at my split lip.
"Actually, yes." He stood, straightening with a newfound purpose that seemed to override his exhaustion. "There must be a first aid kit somewhere in this place. Bathroom, probably."
I gestured toward a door off the main living area. "Through there. Acropolis suites come fully stocked. Occupational hazards and all that."
Vincent nodded, suddenly all business. "Don't move. Those cuts need proper cleaning if you don't want infection."
"Bossy," I muttered, but the corner of my mouth twitched up despite myself. "I can take care of myself, you know. Been doing it for years."
His eyebrows rose slightly, mouth tightening at the corners. The therapist expression gave way to something more personal, more genuine. "Everyone needs help sometimes, Luka. Even assassins with broken noses."
