Chapter 2: Keep Your Secrets, Just Don't Lie When It Counts

Nova's POV

Two weeks later, I'm sitting in Kael's car, watching the city blur past the window. The wounds are healing. Still hurts when I breathe too deep, but I can move now. Fight if I have to.

The doctor Kael sent didn't ask questions. That's good. Better that way.

"Got a meeting tonight," Kael says, eyes on the road. "Russian arms dealer. Big money. You're coming along, but you just watch. Got it?"

I nod.

Russian arms dealer. Tonight.

The memory hits me hard. I know this deal. Lucian bought off the Russians weeks ago in my past life. Set up a trap. I died before seeing how it ended, but knowing Lucian, Kael probably lost people here.

Not happening again.

The shipyard is dark when we arrive, smelling like rust and seawater. Six of Kael's guys are already positioned around the perimeter, barely visible in the shadows.

Twenty minutes pass. Then headlights cut through the darkness.

A bald man in an expensive gray suit steps out first, four bodyguards behind him. The suit doesn't fit right. Too tight in the shoulders.

"Mr. Vaughn." Heavy Russian accent. "I hear you want to do business."

"Depends what you're offering," Kael says.

They start negotiating. Modified AK-47s, five hundred units, ammunition included. Kael offers twelve hundred per gun. The Russian wants fifteen hundred.

I'm standing behind Kael, looking like I'm not paying attention. But I'm tracking everything.

The Russian's watch catches the light wrong. Too fancy for this kind of work. And that's when I know. It's not just a watch.

Recording device.

My eyes move up to the scaffolding above us. Three shadows that shouldn't be there. Too still. Too perfectly positioned.

I step closer to Kael, keeping my voice low.

"His watch is bugged. Three shooters on the roofs. Nine o'clock, twelve, and three."

Kael's shoulders tense for a second. I see his eyes flick up, checking the positions.

"You're sure?"

"Yeah."

Everything happens fast after that.

Kael pulls his gun, aims it straight at the Russian's head. His men react instantly, weapons up, surrounding them.

"Tell Lucian his traps are getting obvious," Kael says.

The Russian goes pale. "I don't know what—"

A shot cracks through the air. Not from Kael. From above. The bullet hits concrete near the Russian's feet, sending debris flying.

"Move!" Kael shouts.

We're running for cover, bullets hammering into the shipping containers around us. Kael's men are firing back, lighting up the sniper positions. The whole thing lasts maybe three minutes.

When it's over, the Russians are gone. One of Kael's guys took a round to the shoulder, but he's still standing.

Kael turns to me. There's something different in his eyes now.

"How'd you spot that?"

"Used to work this kind of job," I say. "You learn to notice things."

He stares at me for a long moment.

"You just saved our asses."

I don't say anything. Can't explain that without my past life memories, I wouldn't have seen any of it. I'm not observant. I'm just cheating.

Later that night, I slip out of the safe house. It's past one in the morning. Kael's men are watching for threats coming in, not someone leaving. They don't see me go.

There's an old piano bar in the bad part of town. Abandoned for years. Lucian used it as a meeting spot, kept records in the basement. I need those records.

I've been here dozens of times in my past life, standing in front of Lucian while he flipped through those leather books like they meant something.

The back door is rusted. The lock is a joke. I'm inside in under a minute.

Dust everywhere. The piano on stage looks dead under all the grime. The whole place smells like rot.

The basement entrance is behind the bar. Hidden panel in the floor, wooden ladder going down.

I climb down into the darkness.

Metal shelves line the walls, packed with boxes and ledgers. I know exactly where to look. Third shelf from the left, fourth box back. Black leather book.

I pull it out, open it.

Lucian's handwriting. Cold and precise.

"March 15, 2019: Target—Senator Michael Roberts. Executor: Ghost. Complete."

"July 8, 2019: Target—Prosecutor Sarah Sinclair. Executor: Ghost. Complete."

Thirty-seven names. Thirty-seven kills.

Some of them deserved it. Traffickers. Murderers. Filth. But some were just in Lucian's way. Wrong person, wrong time.

My hands start shaking.

"You're not just some intel officer, are you?"

I spin around, gun already drawn.

Kael is standing at the top of the ladder, silhouetted against the dim light from above.

"You followed me?"

"One of my guys noticed you left." He starts climbing down. "Figured I'd see where you were headed. So what's this? Stealing Lucian's files? Or covering your tracks?"

I don't lower the gun.

"Everyone's got secrets, Vaughn. Mine just happen to be useful."

He keeps walking toward me like the gun doesn't exist. Stops two feet away. Moonlight from a ventilation grate cuts across his face, making that scar stand out.

"Keep your secrets," he says. "Just don't lie when it counts."

We're standing in the dark, staring at each other. Something passes between us. Understanding, maybe. Or a warning.

"Don't worry," I finally say, lowering the gun. "When I give my word, I keep it."