Two weeks had changed everything and nothing at all.

Evelyn still wore her usual professional attire—the sharp business clothes that had always been her armor. She still moved with that controlled grace, still spoke with measured precision. Still maintained that cold, evaluator's demeanor that had made her so effective in her former government role.

But now, when she looked at me, everything changed.

I'd noticed it first on the third day after the surgery. We'd been discussing coalition logistics in the living room, and she'd glanced up from her tablet to make a point. Our eyes met, and suddenly her cheeks had flushed pink. She'd looked away quickly, stumbling over her words in a way that was completely unlike her.

It kept happening.

Every time our eyes met directly, she'd blush. Sometimes she'd recover quickly, that professional mask sliding back into place. Other times she'd look away entirely, focusing on literally anything else in the room.

Camille found it endlessly entertaining.

"I can't believe this," she'd said just this morning, sprawled across the couch while Evelyn tried to brief us on something related to European coalition contacts. "Evelyn. Evelyn. The coldest, most serious person I know, reduced to a blushing mess by eye contact."

"I am not a mess," Evelyn had replied, her tone sharp but her cheeks betraying her with that telltale pink.

"You're worse than Sienna," Camille continued, grinning wickedly. "At least Sienna owns her shyness. You're over here trying to pretend you're still this intimidating ice queen while turning red every time Rey looks at you."

"Camille," Sienna had said, her own cheeks coloring in sympathy, "leave her alone."

"Never," Camille had declared. "This is the best entertainment I've had in weeks."

I'd tried to intervene, but honestly, watching Evelyn navigate actually being able to see me was both endearing and amusing. Months of building up an image of what I looked like versus the reality of it had created some kind of cognitive dissonance that manifested in involuntary blushing.

But that was two weeks ago. Now, I had other things to focus on.

Ghana. The World President. The meeting that would determine the next phase of everything we'd been building toward.

My preparation hadn't involved upgrading my System—between the System upgrades I'd received and my existing roster of jobs and skills, I was as capable as I was going to get. No, the preparation had been tactical. Strategic.

Anthony had spent the past two weeks setting up contingencies.

"Boss," he'd said during our final briefing yesterday, his usual comedic energy tempered by actual professionalism, "I've got three teams on standby. They'll be positioned throughout Accra in various disguises. Business travelers, tourists, NGO workers. All within ten minutes of wherever you'll be meeting the World President."

"And they're all people we can trust?" I'd asked.

"Vetted personally," Anthony had confirmed. "Most of them are team members who've worked with us before. A few are freelancers I've used on previous operations. All of them understand the stakes and the need for discretion."

"Good. What about weapons?"

"Diplomatic channels mean we can't bring in anything heavy, but we've got sufficient firepower stashed in secure locations if things go sideways." He'd grinned then, that familiar spark of mischief appearing. "Plus, you know, I'm there. And I'm basically a weapon myself."

"Your humility is astounding," I'd said dryly.

"I contain multitudes, Boss."

Now, standing in the penthouse with my bag packed and Anthony waiting outside with the car, I faced the hardest part of the preparation.

Telling them I was going alone.

All four of them stood in the living room, arms crossed in eerily similar poses of disapproval. Even Sienna, usually the most understanding, looked frustrated.

"This is ridiculous," Camille said bluntly. "You're going to meet the World President—the actual World President—and you're not taking any of us with you?"

"It's too dangerous," I said, keeping my voice firm but gentle. "If something goes wrong—"

"Then you'll need backup," Alexis interrupted, her hair pulled back in a no-nonsense ponytail. "Which is exactly why at least one of us should come with you."

"Anthony and the agents will be there," I countered.

"Anthony is one person," Evelyn said, her gray-blue eyes meeting mine directly before she looked away, that faint blush appearing despite the serious conversation. "And the agents are support, not protection. You need someone with you who knows you. Who can adapt to whatever situation develops."

"That's exactly why I need you all to stay here," I said. "If something does happen to me in Ghana, the coalition needs leadership. You four are the core of this operation. If I don't come back—"

"Don't," Sienna said sharply, her caring nature overridden by genuine fear. "Don't talk like that, Rey. You're coming back."

"I plan to," I said. "But we have to be realistic about the risks. The World President isn't going to meet me out of the goodness of their heart. This could be a trap. It could be an ambush. It could be a lot of things we haven't anticipated."

"Which is why you need us there," Camille insisted, moving closer. "Rey, we're not asking to be in the room with you. But at least let one of us come to Ghana. Be nearby. Ready to help if things go bad."

I looked at each of them—Camille with her wild energy barely contained, Alexis with her clinical assessment hiding genuine concern, Sienna with her open worry, and Evelyn with that new vulnerability that came from actually being able to see my expressions.

"No," I said firmly. "I need you here. All of you. Safe. Maintaining the coalition. Making sure that if this goes wrong, there's still something worth fighting for."

"Rey—" Camille started.

"This isn't a negotiation," I said, my tone harder than I wanted but necessary. "I'm not risking any of you on this. Not when we have other options. Not when the stakes are this high."

Alexis's jaw tightened, but she nodded slowly. "Fine. But you're taking every precaution Anthony has planned. No heroics. No taking unnecessary risks."

"Agreed," I said.

"And you're checking in," Evelyn added, her professional demeanor reasserting itself. "Every 12 hours minimum. If we don't hear from you, we're coming to Ghana regardless of what you want."

"Fair enough," I conceded.

Sienna stepped forward, her auburn hair catching the light. "Rey, tell me you'll come back," she said quietly. "That this won't be like all the other times where something goes wrong and we have to worry and wait and hope."

I pulled her into a hug, feeling her arms wrap around me tightly. "I promise I'll do everything I can to come back safely. With good news."

"That's not the same as promising you'll be okay," she murmured against my chest.

"It's the best I can do," I admitted.

We stood there for a moment, then the others joined—Camille wrapping her arms around both of us, Alexis adding her presence with quiet support, and Evelyn fitting herself into the group embrace with the careful precision of someone still getting used to physical affection while looking at people.

When we finally separated, I made a point of looking at each of them individually.

I kissed Sienna first, gentle and reassuring. Then Camille, who tried to deepen it before I pulled back with a smile. Alexis next, her kiss clinical and controlled but with warmth underneath. And finally Evelyn, who blushed furiously when our eyes met but kissed me anyway, her hands gripping my shirt like she didn't want to let go.

"I'll be back," I said one more time. "I promise."

Then I picked up my bag and walked out the door before any of them could protest further.

The door clicked shut, leaving the four of them standing in the living room.

——

For a moment, nobody spoke. The absence of Reynard's presence felt like a physical thing, a void where energy and purpose used to be.

Camille was the first to break the silence, flopping dramatically onto the couch. "Well, that sucked."

"He's right though," Alexis said, moving to sit in her usual chair. "If something happens to him in Ghana, we need to be here. The coalition can't lose all its leadership at once."

"I know he's right," Camille muttered. "Doesn't mean I have to like it. I care more about him than the actual coalition."

Evelyn remained standing by the door, her hand still raised like she might reach for the handle. Like she might run after him and demand to come along despite everything.

"He'll be fine," she said, but her voice lacked conviction. "Anthony is with him. And the agents. And Samuel is an ally. Everything will be fine."

"Of course it will," Sienna said from where she stood near the window, looking out at the city below. But her voice was distant. Worried.

Alexis noticed immediately. Years of medical training made her attuned to shifts in people's emotional states. "Sienna? What's wrong?"

Sienna didn't turn from the window. Her reflection in the glass showed an expression that was equal parts concern and something deeper. Something that looked like resignation.

"Sienna?" Camille prompted, sitting up now.

Finally, Sienna turned to face them, her auburn hair framing a face that had gone pale.

"Reynard promised," she said quietly.

The three of them stared at her, waiting for elaboration.

Sienna's hands gripped each other tightly, her caring nature warring with a fear she couldn't quite suppress.

"His promises never end well."​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

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