The city was suffocating in its own secrets. The war had ended years ago, but for Emma and Aleksander, the battle never stopped.

Emma—sharp, blind, and dangerously brilliant—was the intelligence agency’s best cryptanalyst. Her ears caught what others missed, her fingers traced meaning in scattered codes. Aleksander—pragmatic, relentless—was a police officer who dealt with threats the law couldn't touch. Their worlds weren’t supposed to overlap, but for eight years, they found themselves entangled in missions, in quiet moments, in something neither could name.

Tonight was no different.

They were assigned to extract a defector carrying vital intel from an underground club—a place where criminals, spies, and those caught in between blurred together under dim lights and cigarette smoke. The catch? The contact would only trust a “married” couple.

Emma adjusted the ring Aleksander had slipped onto her finger earlier. “You’re tense,” she signed discreetly against his wrist.

Aleksander exhaled through his nose, leading her through the crowd with an arm wrapped around her waist. “This is reckless,” he muttered, lips close enough to her ear that the warmth of his breath tickled her skin.

Emma smirked. “It always is.”

The target was across the room. But before they could reach him, a voice cut through the music. “Well, well, Officer Veil. Didn’t expect to see you here.”

Aleksander stiffened. Emma couldn’t see the man who spoke, but she felt the shift in Aleksander’s posture. A threat.

“Dance with me,” she murmured, just loud enough for him to hear.

His fingers twitched. “Emma—”

“Trust me.”

A beat. Then, his hand slid into hers, pulling her to the dance floor. They moved as one—Emma feeling the rhythm through the vibrations in the floor, Aleksander guiding her without a word. Their act had to be convincing. And so, for the first time in eight years, Aleksander held her like she was something more than a partner in the dark.

Their target was watching. So was the enemy.