Alexia crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing at Elliot. “What do you mean by that?”

Elliot hesitated, his jaw tightening, as if weighing how much he should say.

Before he could answer, a sharp knock at the door cut through the tension.

Elliot opened it. Ava stood there, her expression unreadable, but her stance spoke volumes—this wasn’t a casual visit.

“We need to talk,” Ava said firmly. “Now. And Alexia needs to come, too.”

Elliot didn’t move. “Are you sure about that?”

Ava’s voice remained steady. “We can’t keep her out of the loop, Elliot. It’s getting serious.”

Elliot glanced at Alexia, his hesitation clear. “What about Ben? Does he agree?”

“Absolutely. We’re meeting in the conference room—Harris and Steven are already there. Sarah and Anna are downstairs guarding Mae.”

Silence stretched between them. Alexia felt the weight of something unspoken in Elliot’s hesitation, but she didn’t back down. “If this concerns me, I deserve to know.”

Elliot sighed, rubbing his temple before finally relenting. “Fine. Bring everything you have to the conference room.”

Ava didn’t waste another second. She pulled out her phone and sent a single text to Ben. Yes. Now.

Alexia exchanged a glance with Elliot before following Ava out the door. Whatever this was—it wasn’t just serious. It was about to change everything.

The conference room was already buzzing with quiet tension by the time Elliot, Alexia, and Ava arrived. Harris stood near the display screen, reviewing security logs, while Steven sat at the table, fingers drumming against the surface.

Ben leaned against the far wall, arms crossed, watching as they entered. His expression gave nothing away, but the tightness in his jaw said enough.

Alexia took in the atmosphere, the weight of something unsaid pressing into her chest. Whatever they had uncovered, it wasn’t good.

Elliot was the first to speak. “Tell me.”

Harris didn’t look up from the screen. “Mae was deeper in than we thought.” He tapped the display, highlighting access logs. “She wasn’t just poking around—she was coordinating. She’s been in contact with someone outside, but we haven’t traced who yet.”

Ava exhaled sharply, pulling out a chair but not sitting. “I’ll handle her.”

Ben smirked, glancing at Harris. “She’s got it coming.”

Harris nodded. “Yeah, better her than me.”

Alexia shifted her weight, watching Ava. There was something lethal in her calm. “And if she doesn’t talk?”

“She will,” Ava said, then glanced at Ben. “But first, we need to handle something else.”

A knock at the door interrupted them.

Steven moved first, opening it to reveal Ricardo, the estate’s longtime gardener. He stood there, dirt still on his gloves, holding a plain brown package.

“Found this at the far end of the estate,” Ricardo said, his tone neutral. “Looked out of place, figured you’d want to see it.”

Steven took it from him, his eyes scanning the unmarked surface. “Where exactly?”

“Near the east boundary,” Ricardo replied. “I was walking the grounds before starting work over there.”

Steven nodded. “Got it. Thanks.”

Ricardo gave a small nod before turning and walking off without another word.

Elliot’s eyes followed him before shifting to the package in Steven’s hands. “Put it on the table.”

Ben stepped closer as Steven placed the package down. No labels. No markings. Just a simple, unassuming box.

Ava exhaled. “Open it.”

Steven grabbed a knife from his belt, slicing through the tape before carefully unfolding the flaps.

Inside, nestled in a layer of packing paper, sat a burner phone.

One message flashed on the screen.

"You can’t protect her."

The room went still.

Ava reached for the phone, running a scan with her device. A moment later, she shook her head. “No prints. No digital trace. Whoever sent this knew exactly what they were doing.”

Harris muttered a curse under his breath. “They’re watching us.”

Ben’s expression darkened. “And they want us to know it.”

Elliot looked at Alexia, his hesitation lingering.

But before he could decide what to say, Alexia took control. She grabbed the phone, and without hesitation, dialed the only saved number.

The line clicked.

A voice answered.

“I was wondering when you’d call.”

The underground holding room was dimly lit, a single overhead bulb casting sharp shadows along the concrete walls. The air was cool, sterile—unforgiving.

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Mae sat in the chair, her wrists resting on the armrests, her posture deceptively relaxed. But Ava saw through it. The tension in her shoulders. The way her fingers curled slightly against the metal frame. Mae was trying to act unaffected.

Ava took her time stepping into the room. She didn’t rush. Didn’t speak. She pulled a chair from the corner and placed it directly in front of Mae before sitting down. Not too close. Not too far. Just enough to let the silence work for her.

Mae smirked, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “So, what’s this? Good cop, bad cop?”

Ava tilted her head slightly. “No. Just me.”

Mae scoffed. “Then this’ll be quick. I’m not saying a damn thing.”

Ava let a small pause stretch between them before speaking, her voice almost conversational. “You know, I’ve been in this room before. Not as an interrogator—on the other side.” She leaned back slightly, her expression unreadable. “There’s a moment when you realize you have two choices. Be useful. Or be forgotten.”

Mae’s smirk wavered.

Ava pressed on. “You’re not some mastermind, Mae. You’re a pawn. Disposable. Whoever you’re protecting?” She shrugged. “They’re not here. And trust me, they’re not coming for you.”

Silence.

Ava folded her arms, letting the weight of her words settle. “I can have you sitting in this room for days. Weeks. No sunlight. No contact. Eventually, you’ll talk. But let me tell you something.” She leaned forward, her voice soft but sharp as a blade. “You talk now, and maybe—maybe—you walk out of here one day.”

Mae exhaled through her nose, shaking her head. “Nice speech.”

Ava’s lips barely twitched. “I don’t do speeches. I deal in reality.”

Mae crossed her arms. “And I deal in loyalty.”

Ava nodded slowly, as if considering. Then she stood up. Walked toward the door. Stopped just before opening it. “Alright then. I’ll let Ben handle this.”

Mae stiffened.

Ava saw it. Felt it. The slightest shift in Mae’s bravado.

A beat of silence passed before Mae exhaled sharply. “Wait.”

Ava turned back.

Mae clenched her jaw. “Megan Franks. Stan Baker. That’s who I dealt with.”

Ava didn’t react. Didn’t let Mae see just how valuable that piece of information was. “Who do they work for?”

Mae’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I don’t know.”

Ava studied her carefully, searching for a lie. Mae held her gaze.

She wasn’t breaking further. Not yet.

Ava stepped closer. “That’s all you’re giving me?”

Mae’s voice was flat. “It’s all I’ve got.”

Ava lingered for a moment, then nodded once. “We’ll see about that.”

She turned, this time leaving for real. As the door shut behind her, she pulled out her phone and sent a message.

Ben. We’ve got names.

Alexia stood in front of the canvas, the brush poised between her fingers, but her mind was somewhere else. The tension from earlier still clung to her, wrapping around her thoughts like an iron coil.

The strokes on the canvas were deliberate, sharp contrasts of deep blue cutting through the warm undertones. It wasn’t about creating something beautiful—this was about release.

She barely registered the soft knock on the studio door before Ava stepped inside.

For a moment, Ava just watched.

“You lose yourself in this, don’t you?” she finally said.

Alexia didn’t turn. “It’s the only thing that makes sense when everything else doesn’t.”

Ava moved closer, taking in the half-finished painting. “Looks different from your others.”

Alexia exhaled. “Because it is.”

Silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken thoughts.

Ava leaned against the edge of a worktable, arms crossed. “Tell me about the voice.”

Alexia lowered the brush, staring at the wet paint. “I’ve been trying to place it all night.”

“And?”

“I know I’ve heard it before.” Alexia pressed her fingers against her temples, frustration flickering in her expression. “I just don’t know where.”

Ava didn’t rush her. “Think.”

“If I force it, it won’t come.” Alexia shook her head. “But I’ll remember. And when I do, you’ll be the first to know.”

Ava studied her for a long moment, then gave a small nod. “Alright.”

She didn’t push. Not yet.

Alexia turned back to the canvas, dipping her brush into the paint. “Did you ever have something you knew was important but couldn’t grasp it?”

Ava’s gaze darkened slightly. “Once.”

Alexia glanced at her, sensing more beneath the answer, but Ava didn’t elaborate.

Ava pushed off the worktable. “I’ll let you get back to it.”

Alexia nodded. As Ava reached the door, Alexia’s voice stopped her.

“Ava.”

Ava turned back.

“If I remember, it changes everything, doesn’t it?”

Ava met her gaze. “Yeah. It does.”

Then she was gone.

The dining room held an odd sense of calm, the kind that came after too many unanswered questions. The long wooden table was set, but no one was fully at ease.

Elliot, Alexia, Ben, and Ava sat with plates in front of them, but the meal was secondary to everything else hanging in the air.

Security. Threats. The unknown.

Still, Alexia pushed forward, needing something normal. She set her fork down and looked at Elliot. “I started the seventh painting today.”

Elliot met her gaze. “For the gallery show?”

She nodded. “It’ll be ready by tomorrow. Which means they can pick up the full collection in two weeks, once they’re dry. I’ll send them images with all the details, but I need to see the space. I need to know how they’re planning to set it up.” A pause. “Or should we postpone?”

Ben glanced at Elliot before speaking. “The show goes forward.”

Ava nodded. “We’ll supply extra security at the event. No one touches those paintings, and no one gets near you without clearance.”

Alexia took a slow breath. “You think it’s necessary?”

Ben’s voice was firm. “Yes.”

Elliot leaned forward. “I’ll handle the contract details. You just focus on the art.”

A beat of silence passed.

Alexia’s fingers brushed against the edge of her wine glass. “Alright. Then we move forward.”

Elliot held her gaze a second longer before nodding.

The conversation shifted briefly to logistics, but the underlying tension never fully left.

They all felt it.

The unknown was still out there. Waiting.

Alexia stood in the center of Elliot’s suite, arms crossed, eyes burning with fury. The tension between them had been simmering for days, but now it was ready to boil over.

“You think an apology will fix this?” Her voice was sharp, laced with something deeper—something raw.

Elliot didn’t move from where he stood, just a few feet away. He exhaled slowly. “No.”

“Good.” She let out a bitter laugh. “Because you didn’t just help me, Elliot. You made sure I had no other choice.”

His jaw tensed. “I had to get you to safety.”

“Damn you, Elliot.” She stepped closer, refusing to let him dodge this. “You arranged everything—my eviction, my lost exhibitions. You cut me off from every other option until the only thing left was you.”

Elliot’s silence was the only confirmation she needed.

Alexia shook her head. “Do you even realize what you did to me?”

“I do.” His voice was low. “And I know I—”

“Do you?” She didn’t let him finish. “Because it wasn’t just about losing my home. You didn’t just take my apartment, Elliot. You took my anger, my work, my choices.”

Her hands clenched at her sides, her chest rising and falling with every breath. “You knew about the HATE painting, didn’t you? You knew what it meant.”

Elliot’s expression darkened. “Yes.”

“You set up that gallery show behind my back.”

“I did.”

Alexia’s heart pounded. “And you stood there, watching me lose everything, just so you could swoop in and play the hero.”

“I wasn’t trying to be a hero.” His voice was steady but quiet. “I saw the painting before you did. And it wasn’t just anger, Alexia. It was power.”

She swallowed hard.

“The world needed to see it,” Elliot continued. “And whether you’ll admit it or not, you needed to be seen.”

Alexia looked away, because the worst part—the absolute worst part—was that he wasn’t wrong.

She felt it every time she stepped into that gallery and saw people feel something when they looked at her work. She had been invisible for too long. And Elliot… he never let her be invisible.

But that didn’t erase what he had done.

“You always have to control everything.”

Elliot stepped closer. “I did what I had to do.”

“You always say that.”

Silence.

Alexia could feel the weight of him—his presence, his quiet intensity. Her pulse skittered.

Elliot took another step. This close, she could see the exhaustion in his eyes, the way his shoulders weren’t as rigid as usual. He looked… almost defeated.

For the first time, he wasn’t fighting her.

His voice softened. “The truth is... Alexia... I don’t want—”