Slade didn’t do surprises.

He planned. He hunted. He executed.

But nothing in all his black ops training prepared him for opening his phone and seeing that.

She wasn’t hiding it—if anything, she was daring him to look. Glossy shots in dim lighting, silhouettes and skin and captions that made his jaw tighten. The username? Obvious. The bio? Filthy.

It wasn’t about the money. She didn’t need it.

It was about control. Power. Teasing the most dangerous man alive from the safety of her camera lens.

Slade exhaled slowly, the tension sitting deep in his spine.

She knew exactly what she was doing.

And she was going to pay for it—once he stopped watching.