The Mask Slips

Every secret has a price, and tonight, debts are due.

Celeste...

The scent of gasoline and blood lingered in the air, thick and suffocating. The cold night bit at my skin, but it wasn't the chill that made me shiver.

It was the weight of the moment.

Adrian and I had walked into this warehouse expecting answers. Instead, we had been met with bullets and fire. Another betrayal. Another night fighting for survival in a world that never let us breathe.

I pressed my back against the wall, heart pounding against my ribs as I reloaded my gun. Across from me, Adrian crouched low behind a crate, his gaze locked onto mine through the smoke and shadows.

His expression was unreadable, but I knew better than to mistake that for indifference. Adrian Russo never looked at anything without intent.

"We're not getting out of here clean," I muttered, scanning the exits. Two men were down, but more were coming. We were outnumbered, and if I was being honest, outplayed.

Adrian exhaled, rolling his shoulders like this was just another game. "We never do."

A flicker of something dark crossed his face, something calculating. And for the first time, I wondered—had Adrian known? Had he suspected this trap before we even walked in?

I didn't have time to dwell on the thought. A figure emerged from the darkness, raising his weapon. I fired first. The man dropped before he could pull the trigger, the echo of the gunshot ringing in my ears.

Adrian smirked. "You're getting faster."

I shot him a look. "You're getting reckless."

His eyes darkened, but there was something else beneath them—something dangerous. "Tell me something, Celeste."

"Now's not really the time for a heart-to-heart, Russo."

He ignored me. "You ever wonder why you're still here?"

I hesitated, my fingers tightening around my gun. "What are you talking about?"

Adrian tilted his head, stepping closer. Even in the middle of chaos, even as the world burned around us, he moved like he was in control. Like he knew something I didn't.

"Every time you've had the chance to run, you stayed," he murmured. "You could've left me for dead a dozen times over. And yet, here we are."

I clenched my jaw. "Maybe I have unfinished business."

He smirked, but it wasn't his usual arrogance. It was something quieter. Sharper. "That makes two of us."

A bullet grazed my arm before I could react. The burn seared through my skin, and I staggered, catching myself against the wall. Adrian's expression shifted, something flashing in his eyes—anger, concern, something else.

Without hesitation, he lunged forward, grabbing me by the wrist and yanking me behind the cover of stacked crates. His body shielded mine, the warmth of him pressing against my side. "You okay?" His voice was lower, rougher.

"I'm fine," I gritted out, even as pain pulsed through me.

Adrian's jaw tightened. "That was too close."

There was something in his tone—something I couldn't place. Frustration? Regret? It wasn't like him. Adrian Russo didn't hesitate. He didn't get distracted.

But right now, he was looking at me like I was something fragile.

Before I could speak, the last of our attackers made a run for it. Adrian turned, raising his gun, but I grabbed his wrist. "No. We need him alive."

He held my gaze for a long moment before lowering his weapon. "Fine."

The silence stretched between us as we watched the man disappear into the night. I exhaled, letting the tension unwind from my muscles—only to realize Adrian was still close, his hand resting lightly on my waist.

It hit me all at once—the heat of his touch, the weight of his gaze. I was acutely aware of every inch of space between us, which was barely anything at all.

Adrian smirked, his breath warm against my skin. "You're staring."

I swallowed hard, willing my heartbeat to slow. "So are you."

His fingers ghosted over my wrist, his touch featherlight but deliberate. "We should go."

But he didn't move. And neither did I.

For a second, the world outside the warehouse didn't exist. There was just the sound of our breathing, the flickering light from the broken overhead lamp, and the undeniable pull between us.

He leaned in, just enough for me to feel his breath against my lips. "Tell me, Celeste," he murmured. "What exactly is your endgame?"

I parted my lips, my answer caught somewhere between instinct and logic. But before I could respond, reality snapped back into focus.

I turned away. "We need to move before more of them show up."

Adrian exhaled sharply, stepping back. His smirk was back in place, but his eyes—his eyes held something else entirely. Something dangerous.

We made it to the alley behind the warehouse, slipping into the night as quietly as ghosts. I was already reaching for my phone to call Sienna when Adrian's voice stopped me cold.

"You should know something, Ogonëk."

The nickname sent a shiver down my spine. I turned, expecting another smug remark.

Instead, I found Adrian watching me with something almost unreadable. Almost.

He took a step closer, his gaze sharp, measuring. "You keep trying to hide," he murmured. "But I see you, Celeste."

My pulse quickened. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Adrian tilted his head slightly, his smirk returning, but his eyes—those dark, dangerous eyes—gave nothing away. "You'll figure it out."

And with that, he turned and walked away, leaving me standing there with more questions than answers.

He didn't say it outright.

But something in his tone, something in the way he looked at me, told me he knew.

He knew something.

And he was just waiting for me to realize it.