Julian watched Vivienne sleep.
One arm tossed carelessly over the sheets.
Mouth slightly open.
No guilt.
No fear.
Just comfort.
And that was the problem.
She was too comfortable.
Too close.
He knew what Carmen was doing.
He just didn't like watching it happen.
Carmen sat at the writing desk, cleaning a blade with two fingers like it was jewelry. Her expression soft. Reverent.
Vivienne shifted in the sheets, reaching for the heat Carmen had left behind.
Julian stepped across the room, his voice low:
"You trust her too much."
Carmen didn't look up.
"I trust her enough."
"She's still taking notes."
"And we're still letting her."
He leaned in.
"You want her to write the story?"
Carmen met his eyes.
"I want her to understand it."
Vivienne woke to silence.
Carmen dressed in velvet, still and unreadable.
Julian watching her like a question he was done asking.
She didn't speak.
She could feel it in the air—something sharp, unsaid, like a scream behind glass.
"What's wrong?"
Julian's voice cut clean:
"Do you love her?"
Vivienne froze.
Carmen didn't answer.
Didn't flinch.
Julian stepped forward.
"Or is this just for your book?"
Vivienne stood straighter.
Didn't back away.
"I've killed for you. I've lied for you. I've erased myself for you."
"And taken notes," Julian snapped.
Vivienne's voice cracked—just once.
Then steadied.
"Because I want to remember. I want to witness this. I don't want it to disappear."
Carmen finally spoke.
Voice soft. Measured.
"If you ever lie to us again—really lie—I'll cut your tongue out."
Vivienne met her eyes.
Didn't blink.
"Fair."
Later that night—
three knocks at the door.
Soft. Unassuming.
Carmen opened it without a word.
It was Hargreave.
Alone.
No badge. No backup. Just the exhaustion of a man who'd stopped pretending he slept.
Julian tensed, but didn't speak.
Vivienne stood in the corner, still.
Watching.
Hargreave sat down like he already knew how this ended.
"I know what you are," he said.
Carmen lit a cigarette.
Said nothing.
"And I don't care anymore."
She looked up.
That got her attention.
"Go on."
"I'm not here to stop you."
Julian's voice dropped.
"Then why the hell are you here?"
Hargreave leaned forward, elbows on knees.
"Because I think something worse is coming."
Carmen exhaled slow smoke across the table.
"I don't do alliances."
"This isn't one."
"Then what is it?"
He smiled.
It didn't reach his eyes.
"A trade."