And then, Clara.
She stepped out of the bedroom, pyjama bottoms low on her hips, hair damp and loose around her shoulders, one hand clutching her phone. She froze when she saw him, her eyes widening, mouth parting in a sharp inhale.
Jonas raised his hands slightly, palms out. “Quiet,” he murmured. “I’m not here to hurt you.”
Her phone clattered to the floor. She stumbled back, her breath coming fast, eyes flicking to the door, to the window, calculating escape.
Jonas stepped forward, snatching the phone from the floor and pocketing it, before holding a hand out to her, as if calminga frightened animal. “Clara, listen to me. You’re not safe here. Someone’s watching your building. If you stay—”
She darted for the door. Fast.
Jonas caught her, one hand wrapping around her wrist, the other steady at her shoulder. She twisted, sharp and strong, surprising him with her fight. Her knee came up, narrowly missing his balls. For a moment, their faces were inches apart, her breath ragged, his heart slamming in his chest as he retrained her. It was a risk letting her see his face but seeing the terror on hers made him glad he wasn’t some faceless mask.
“Let me go!” she hissed, her voice breaking with fear.
“I can’t,” Jonas said, the words scraping raw from his throat. “If I do, they’ll take you instead. I won’t let that happen.”
Her eyes blazed, confusion and terror warring with something else, something that flickered for just a heartbeat. Recognition maybe, or the same spark he’d felt in the museum when she’d tilted her head at him like he was a puzzle she wanted to solve.
A noise split the air. The van’s engine, revving closer now.
Jonas swore under his breath. No time. He pulled a slim canister from his jacket, pressed it to the smoke alarm on the ceiling. The device beeped once, then the silence was split by the loud blaring of the smoke alarm going off. He needed cover. A distraction, chaos. He yanked the breaker in the hallway fuse box, plunging the flat into darkness just as shouting came from the ground floor.
Clara gasped, panic rising.
Jonas gripped her arm more firmly, guiding her toward the back stairs. “Trust me.”
“I don’t even know you!”
“I know,” he said, voice low, urgent, the words almost a plea. “But you will.”
He got her into the stairwell, her bare feet slipping on the cold linoleum, her breath coming fast as she tried to wrench free. At the second floor, a cry rang out from below, female, filled with fear, followed by the heavy slam of a door. Jonas’s instincts screamed. They were inside and he’d run out of time.
“Move,” he hissed, practically lifting her when she faltered. She struggled, nails biting into his arm, but he didn’t let go as he pushed her through the fire exit doors and ushered her down the stairs.
They burst into the alley at the back of the building, the smell of rot and damp brick thick in the air. A shadow moved at the far end, another man, blocking the exit. Clara gasped, tried to pull away, but Jonas tightened his hold, scanning the angles.
Fight or vanish.
He shoved Clara behind him, his body angled to shield hers, and met the man head-on, hoping she wouldn’t try and run. The first blow landed hard, a crack across Jonas’s jaw, but he absorbed it, countered with ruthless precision. Fist to the gut, elbow to the throat. He could just shoot the man, but it would draw too much attention and killing would terrify Clara even more. The man staggered, wheezing, before whipping out a wicked-looking blade and aiming it at Jonas with a smirk.
It was time to end this and get the fuck out of there, but before he could attack, the man lunged, swiping at his gut, the blade nicking his jacket. Adrenalin surged through him as he blocked the next strike with his forearm, knocking the blade from the other man’s hand. Wasting no time, Jonas lunged with a two-strike combo to his attacker’s face and gut, before driving into his jaw with an elbow. The man grunted before going down, out cold. Jonas didn’t hesitate; he grabbed Clara, dragged her toward the fire escape, and started to climb.
Her voice broke in the dark. “Stop, please.”
Jonas didn’t answer. He couldn’t. Every muscle screamed, every instinct burned. This wasn’t how he wanted it, but the choice had been ripped from him.
By the time they reached the roof, his chest heaved, Clara trembled against him, the city spread in wet lights below. The van’s engine growled in the street, doors slamming as more men spilled out.
Jonas pulled Clara close, one arm firm around her, the other reaching for the comms unit he’d left silent too long. His voice was a rasp, torn between fury at himself for failing and a desperation to keep Clara safe at all costs.
“Command, this is Watchdog. I’m compromised. I need an urgent exfil.”
Static crackled back. Then Bás’s voice, sharp and clipped:“What the hell, Watchdog?”
Jonas looked down at Clara, her eyes wide, shining with fear and something else. Betrayal, disbelief, and he felt the weight of every choice pressing down on him.
He’d crossed the line and there was no going back.
