Page 67 of Code Name: Ghost

I nod. “Juliette’s not the kind of target you kill unless you’re trying to silence more than gossip. This is a cover-up. Professional. They used her and threw her away the second she became a risk.”

She doesn’t blink. “So, we hit back. Expose the whole damn nest.”

There it is. That fire. That refusal to flinch when the darkness deepens. It’s why I brought her in. Why I didn’t bench her after Paris. She doesn’t break—she sharpens.

I slide my hand under her jaw and tilt her face up. “If we do this, there’s no going back. We won’t just be ghosting one man. We’ll be unraveling a network that’s been protected by diplomatic immunity, money, intelligence assets.”

“I don’t care.” Her voice doesn’t shake. “I’m done watching monsters pull strings from the dark. If I’m going down, I’m dragging them with me.”

My chest tightens. “It’s not just about risk. It’s about trust. Because the deeper we go, the fewer people we’ll be able to count on. Cerberus won’t be able to shield us forever. And once we cross this line…”

She places her hands in mine. “We’ve already crossed it, Nick.”

She’s right. We have. Every time she slipped into that collar. Every time she knelt when I asked and fought when I needed her to.

I lean in, press my lips to her forehead. “Then we burn it down together.”

She shakes her head, voice low. “They wanted me silent. That’s what this is about. They think I know too much. I’m not sure if I do or not, but Hector can’t control me anymore.”

“No,” I say, voice sharper than I intend. “It’s more than that. They want to erase you. Which means you were closer to something than even you realized.”

She blinks. “What?”

“You were his wife. You saw many things: names, invoices, shipments routed through shell companies. You don’t need to remember it all—just the fact that you had access is enough to get you flagged.”

She lets out a short, bitter laugh. “So, I was dangerous and didn’t even know it.”

“Which makes you even more dangerous now.”

Her eyes snap to mine. “Then let’s stop running. Let’s hit back before they try to finish the job.”

I stare at her for a long second. Then nod once. “We start with Vallois. We find out who gave the kill order, and we expose every name on the list.”

Her fingers tighten around mine. “We go all in.”

A new message pings the ops line. I grab the encrypted tablet and unlock it.

Logan’s voice comes through, tight and grim. “We’ve got a clean shot from the villa’s external camera. Confirmed ID on the body. It’s Juliette. No mistake.”

“How fresh?”

“Less than three hours. The kill was precise. No forensic trace left behind. Whoever did this knew what they were doing.”

I exhale through my nose. “Looks like the guest list just got shorter.”

18

CHERISE

Juliette Morin’s death doesn’t feel real until I see the freeze-frame still of her body on the surveillance monitor—head tilted back in an unnatural position, blood dried in a delicate line down her throat where the diplomatic pin pierced her. A warning. A message. A clean, silent kill meant to send shivers through the bones of anyone foolish enough to think they could outplay Vallois.

I don’t shiver. I breathe. Long and slow—anchored by the weight of what I now know and the man standing just steps away, a silent promise in human form. The image of Juliette’s lifeless body is a warning, but it doesn’t send me running. It solidifies something inside me.

I know exactly what kind of man arranges that kind of execution. It’s not just about power. It’s about performance. About showing your prey that you’re already in their shadow before they even see the blade.

Juliette was dangerous. Arrogant. Complicit in every dark deal she brokered. And still—she didn’t see it coming. That’s what chills me to the core. Not just her death, but the precision of it. The message in blood that even someone as ruthless, as connected, as careful as Juliette... was disposable. That’s the reach we’re up against.

Nick moves through the ops room like a storm locked in a body. Quiet. Intent. Watching him work is like watching violence take shape in real time, beautiful and terrifying. He doesn’t bark orders. He doesn’t pace. He assesses. Strategizes. Plans. His presence anchors me, even as the world around us slips deeper into shadows.

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