Updated Apr 20, 2026 • ~4 min read
Chapter 22: The Wire
Nadia
The wire is smaller than Nadia expected—barely larger than a button, attached to a nearly invisible transmitter that Riot tapes to her ribs with hands that are surprisingly gentle despite the tension radiating off him in waves.
“Testing,” Marcus says through the earpiece they’ve fitted her with, so small it’s invisible unless you’re looking for it. “Nadia, can you hear me?”
“Loud and clear,” she confirms, trying not to flinch as Riot’s fingers brush against her skin.
“Good. Riot can hear you too—we all can. You’re never alone in there, understood?” Marcus’s voice is calm, professional, the voice of someone who’s done this a hundred times. “Viktor makes any move that feels wrong, we extract you immediately.”
“Understood,” Nadia says, but her hands are shaking as she reaches for the blouse she’s supposed to wear, the one that’s designed to hide the wire but still look professional enough for a meeting with a mob boss.
“Hey,” Riot says quietly, stilling her hands with his. “Look at me.”
She does, and finds him watching her with an intensity that makes her breath catch.
“You don’t have to do this,” he says, and she knows it costs him to offer the out even though they’ve spent a week planning this operation. “We can find another way. Keep you hidden, wait for a different opportunity—”
“No,” Nadia interrupts, needing him to understand. “I’m done hiding. Done running. I want my life back, and the only way to get it is to end Viktor permanently.” She cups his face, mirrors his position from this morning. “I trust you. I trust the plan. And I’m ready to do this.”
“You’re the bravest person I know,” Riot says roughly, and kisses her like maybe it’s the last time even though they both know it won’t be, can’t be, because the alternative is unthinkable.
“Save that thought for after,” Nadia says when they finally break apart. “When I come back and you can kiss me without it tasting like goodbye.”
“It’s not goodbye,” Riot says fiercely. “It’s see you soon. Thirty minutes, max, and then I’m pulling you out whether you’ve got the confession or not.”
“Thirty minutes,” Nadia agrees. “I can do thirty minutes.”
She can do thirty minutes of facing the man who murdered her parents, thirty minutes of getting him to confess on tape, thirty minutes of trusting that Riot and his team will keep her safe even when every instinct is screaming danger.
She can do this.
She has to.
“I love you,” she tells Riot, needing to say it one more time before the operation begins. “Whatever happens in there—I love you, and I’m choosing this. Choosing us. Choosing to trust you with my life.”
“I love you too,” Riot says, and helps her into the blouse with hands that shake slightly despite his professional composure. “And Nadia? When this is over and you’re safe—I’m asking again.”
“I know,” she says, and lets herself smile despite the fear. “And this time, I’m saying yes.”
His expression does something complicated—surprise and joy and relief all fighting for dominance—and then he’s kissing her again, deeper this time, a promise and a claim all at once.
“Then let’s go get you your freedom,” he says against her mouth. “So I can give you my ring.”
And Nadia thinks, as they head to the vehicle where Marcus is waiting: *This is what it means to live instead of just survive.*
It means risking everything for the chance at something real.
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