Rina’s gaze snapped from the ceramite-shrouded windows to Damen. He stood by the massive, sleek dining table, a half-empty tumbler of something amber still clutched in his hand. The dim light from the overhead fixtures caught the hard line of his jaw, the subtle tremor in his fingers. The careless swagger he wore like armor had thinned to bare wood. Before Rina could formulate a response, the penthouse’s intercom chimed—a series of melodic, yet insistent, tones. Damen merely quirked a brow, a flicker of his usual sardonic amusement returning. “Speak of the devil, or perhaps, the only angel allowed into this particular purgatory.” Rina moved towards the entrance, a frown etching itself between her brows. Who could possibly be arriving now, with the city already battening down its hatches? The security panel displayed a familiar face, a warm smile beneath impeccably styled dark hair: Nico Volos. Rina’s own partner. Her best friend. He held a small, ballistic nylon duffel bag in one hand, a concerned expression on his face. “Nico? What are you doing here?” Rina’s voice was sharper than she intended, a blend of surprise and exasperation. He was supposed to be managing their other high-profile client, the shipping conglomerate, from their own offices. Nico’s smile softened, though his eyes held a glint Rina couldn’t quite decipher. “Just making sure my star player has her emergency kit. Kyria’s going to be a ghost town for a while, isn’t it? Wouldn’t want you caught unprepared, darling.” He stepped inside as the heavy door slid open, the sound a soft hiss, then sealed itself with a solid thud. He surveyed the cavernous living space, his gaze lingering a fraction too long on Damen, who had remained by the dining table, watching the exchange with an almost predatory stillness. “And to offer moral support,” Nico added, turning his full attention to Rina, his voice dropped to an intimate murmur. “This whole lockdown… it’s a lot, even for you. Dealing with a, shall we say, *reluctant* client under these circumstances. It must be grueling. You need an ally.” He paused, then tilted his head slightly, his smile tightening. “Unless things are proceeding *smoothly*?” Rina felt a prickle of irritation. Nico knew her well enough to know ‘smoothly’ was never a descriptor for crisis management, especially not with a client like Damen. He was subtly questioning her control, her competence, right in front of the very person she needed to control. She intercepted the duffel bag he offered, her fingers brushing his. “Everything is precisely as it needs to be, Nico. Professional as always.” She shot a quick glance at Damen, whose expression remained flat while the glass stem in his grip strained under pressure. Nico, undeterred, strode further into the room, his eyes scanning the stark, modern decor. “Of course, of course. You’re the best, Rina. Always have been. Remember that time with the Councilman Cassian scandal? When his campaign imploded after that… unfortunate incident at the Gala of Spires?” He chuckled, a light, airy sound that somehow grated on Rina’s nerves. “You were so determined to spin it, to present it as a misunderstanding. But, well, some things are just too far gone, aren’t they? Even for you.” The skin across Rina’s collarbones pulled taut. The Cassian scandal. A spectacular, public failure early in her career, before she had perfected her current reputation. A case where she had underestimated the depth of corruption and been publicly, humiliatingly outmaneuvered. It was a wound she kept guarded, a lesson she never forgot. And Nico, her supposed best friend, had just casually tossed it out, a casual conversational tidbit, in front of Damen. Heat flared behind her ears. “It taught me a valuable lesson,” Rina said, her voice clipped, “about the true nature of certain… allegiances.” Her gaze locked onto Nico’s, fixed and steady, peeling back his practiced geniality. “Just as some people learn that the polished veneer of their own ‘loyalties’ can crumble with surprising speed, especially when exposed to direct sunlight.” Nico’s smile faltered, a fleeting shadow passing over his eyes. He knew exactly what she was referring to. The details of his own off-the-books dealings with dockland tabloids, the thinly veiled threats he used to steer coverage, all sat cataloged in Rina’s mental ledger. They were professional secrets, shared in trust, now wielded like a scalpel. “My point simply being,” Nico recovered, his tone regaining its smooth cadence, though the corners of his mouth stayed rigid, “some clients, no matter how much you try, are just… an untenable loss. You can’t salvage everyone, Rina. Not when they’re determined to sink the hull themselves.” He glanced pointedly at Damen, a subtle encouragement for the younger man to resist Rina’s efforts. Rina took a step closer to Nico, her voice dropping to a low, dangerous register. “I’m not in the business of ‘saving’ anyone, Nico. I’m here to execute a contract. And I have every intention of fulfilling my obligations, regardless of external interference. You’ve delivered the bag. Your ‘moral support’ is no longer required. The lockdown is imminent. You should go.” Nico’s eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly, but he nodded slowly. “Understood. Well, then. Stay safe, Rina. And… good luck, Damen.” He offered a small, almost imperceptible nod to Damen, then turned to leave. The heavy door hissed open again. As Nico stepped across the threshold, his hand dipped briefly into his coat pocket. A quick, almost invisible flick of his wrist. As Nico passed the end of the mahogany slab toward the foyer, his arm grazed the dark wood; Damen leaned forward, palms flat, and their fingers brushed beneath the lip of the table. The exchange was swift, silent, and utterly surreptitious. Rina, standing a few paces away, caught the barest flicker of movement, the brief glint of polished metal. She blinked, zeroing in on the line of their shoulders. Was that a drive? A secondary comm? Before she could react, the door slid shut, sealing Nico outside and leaving Rina and Damen alone once more in the isolated penthouse. Damen’s hand, now subtly closed, slowly withdrew from the table. He met Rina’s gaze, his eyes sharp, a knowing, almost triumphant glint in their depths. The small, illicit device was now hidden from view, tucked away, but Rina knew it was there. She saw the challenge in his eyes, the silent dare. Nico had betrayed her. And Damen had just become an accomplice.

A Friend's Advice