Chapter 14: The Last Oath
The hum of the city was a distant thing, filtered through double-paned glass and the rhythm of Toni’s breath. Alex held her, one arm pinned beneath Toni’s neck, the other resting lightly on the dip of her waist. The silk sheets were cool, the duvet a heavy weight. Toni slept with a surprising depth, a complete surrender, her body a warm line against Alex’s side. The scent of their shared wine, of Toni’s perfume and clean sweat, filled the dark room.
With every measured exhale against her collarbone, Alex’s mind tore itself in two.
One part was all operative: calculating sightlines to the door, noting the digital clock’s glow (03:47), mapping the locations of every weapon in the room. The Beretta was still in the bedside drawer. Her own ceramic blade was wedged between the mattress and the headboard on her side. Protocol breached. Catastrophically. Martin’s clipped warning was a mantra. A bullet in your cerebellum.
The other part was just… still. It was tuned to the flutter of a pulse under her lips where they rested on Toni’s hair. It felt the incredible, terrifying trust in the loose weight of the woman in her arms. This part traced idle, meaningless patterns on the smooth skin of Toni’s shoulder with her fingertips. Not code.Not a signal. Just a touch.
Toni stirred, a low murmur escaping her. “You’re thinking too loud,” she whispered, her voice thick with sleep.
“I’m not thinking at all,” Alex lied.
“Liar.” Toni tilted her head up. In the faint ambient light, her eyes were dark pools. She shifted, wincing slightly as her injured shoulder adjusted. “Regrets?”
The question was stark. Honest. Alex considered her answer with the same care she’d give a volatile explosive. “No,” she said, and it was the truest thing she’d said in weeks. “You?”
A soft laugh, warm against Alex’s skin. “Only that I didn’t finish that Bordeaux.” She propped herself up on her good elbow, looking down at Alex. The sheet slipped. “Who are you, Ciara from Derry?”
Alex’s heart stalled. She kept her expression neutral, a gentle smile playing on her lips. “Someone who makes surprisingly good omelettes and bad decisions, apparently.”
“The omelette was excellent. The decision…” Toni leaned down and kissed her, slow and deep, banishing the chill that had started to creep in. “Feels pretty good from here.” She pulled back, her expression turning serious, though her thumb still stroked Alex’s cheekbone. “I don’t do this. Let people in. You know that, right?”
“I had a hunch.”
“It’s a weakness. In my world.”
“It’s a strength in mine,” Alex said, and for a fleeting second, she wasn’t Ciara. She was just Alex, bone-tired of the lies.
Toni searched her face, then sighed, settling back against her. “My father always said sentiment was for the soon-to-be-dead. He died in his bed, surrounded by family, so what the fuck did he know?” She laced her fingers with Alex’s, over her stomach. “Don’t make me regret this.”
The words were a request.A threat. A plea.All three.
“I won’t,” Alex whispered to the dark, and the promise was a stone in her throat.
Morning came with grey light and the smell of rain-soaked concrete. Alex woke first, her internal alarm unfailing. She lay perfectly still, assessing. Toni was on her stomach now, face turned toward her, one hand tucked under the pillow. Peaceful. Uncharacteristically soft.
Alex slipped from the bed, the air cool on her skin. She pulled on a t-shirt and sweats, moving silently to the kitchen. The ritual of coffee was a grounding anchor. Grinding the beans. The gurgle of the machine. The rich, bitter smell that began to overlay the intimacy of the night before.
She heard the pad of bare feet just as she was pouring the first cup.
Toni stood in the doorway, wrapped in a black silk robe, her hair a magnificent chaos. She looked sleepy, rumpled, and utterly dangerous. The Beretta was nowhere in sight, but her eyes were watchful.
“You’re a morning person,” Toni said, her voice gravelly. “That might be a deal-breaker.”
“I can be convincingly grumpy if you prefer,” Alex said, handing her a mug.
Toni took it, their fingers brushing. “Don’t bother on my account.” She sipped, eyeing Alex over the rim.“So. What now?”
The question hung between them, dense with unspoken meaning. What now for this?For us? For the fact that I run a criminal empire and you’re a freelance fixer with suspiciously good counter-surveillance skills?
Alex leaned against the counter, mirroring Toni’s casual posture. “Now, I drink my coffee. You drink yours. We see what the day brings.”
“Simple as that?”
“It can be.”
Toni gave a small, rueful smile. “Nothing is ever simple.” She set her mug down. “I have to go out today.A meeting. It’s… sensitive.”
Alex’s senses went to a quiet, high alert. She kept her voice light. “Do you need a driver? Or just someone to complain to about the traffic afterwards?”
“It’s not a driver I need.” Toni walked to the window, looking out at the slick, grey city. “It’s a second set of eyes. Someone who isn’t part of my usual… retinue. Someone people haven’t seen before.” She turned, her gaze sharp, professional. The lover from the night was gone, folded away behind the donna’s mask. “I need you to watch my back, Ciara. Can you do that?”
The opportunity was a vault door swinging open. This was the access point, the very reason she was here. It landed in her stomach like a lead weight.
“Where and when?” Alex asked, her tone flat and competent.
“A warehouse in Docklands. Noon. The players are… jumpy. After Carducci, trust is a scarce commodity.” Toni came closer, stopping just inside Alex’s personal space. She reached out and straightened the collar of Alex’s t-shirt, a strangely domestic gesture. “You’ll be on the perimeter. If you see anything that smells wrong, you signal. If it goes hot…” She paused. “You get clear. Don’t intervene. Your job is to watch and tell me what you saw after.”
“Understood.”
Toni’s hand lingered on her collar. “This isn’t a test. But it is. You know that, right?”
Alex held her gaze. “I know.”
“Good.” Toni leaned in, kissed her once, hard and purposeful. “Get dressed.Wear something dark. Movable. I’ll show you the blueprints.”
As Toni walked away to shower, Alex stood frozen in the kitchen, the steam from her coffee curling into the air. The handler’s voice was back, crystal clear. We need the Amsterdam shell companies. The next physical transfer is imminent.This was it. The invitation into the inner layer. The culmination of her mission.
She looked at the closed bathroom door, heard the shower turn on. She saw the ghost of her own reflection in the dark glass of the oven, a woman split perfectly down the middle. The path forward was clear. The path forward was impossible.
She finished her coffee in one scalding swallow, and went to choose her clothes.