The plan was clean. Precise. No blood. Just silence, shadows, and a needle to the neck.

Slade moved like a ghost through the compound—security bypassed, cameras looped, guards left unconscious in the dark. He could’ve killed them. Years ago, he would’ve. But this wasn’t about vengeance. Not tonight.

This was personal.

He found her in a room lined with cold light and soft lies—cushions, books, a window she was never allowed to open. Comfortable, like a cage built to look like home.

She didn’t scream when he stepped out of the dark. Didn’t fight. Just met his gaze with a look that was all edge and unfinished conversations.

He didn’t say a word. Just moved to her side, lifted her like she was a mission he’d finally come back for. Her breath caught—but not in fear.

She didn’t ask where they were going. He didn’t explain.

She was his. And he was done leaving her behind.

The world could burn for all he cared. He had her now. And no one was taking her away again.