The scent of iron was a blunt force, striking Inessa harder than the rain-soaked chill in the air. Merrick lay still, a heap of burned skin and muscle, his chest rising and falling in shallow, ragged attempts. The crimson bloom on his side grew, a cruel mockery of a tropical flower against his soot-stained shirt. She ripped a strip from her silk nightgown, a garment bought for a life she no longer recognized. Her hands, surprisingly steady despite the tremor in her gut, pressed the makeshift bandage to the wound. He groaned, a raw sound, his eyes still closed. “Don’t you dare die on me, you absolute idiot,” she hissed, her voice sharp with a fear she refused to name. “After all that effort? After ramming a boat like a deranged dolphin and swimming an ocean like some kind of hydrophobic fish? If you flatline on my apartment floor, I’m going to personally reanimate you just so I can kill you again for being so incredibly inconvenient.” His eyelids fluttered, revealing eyes that were still unfocused, hazy. “Inessa…” His voice was a rasp. “Don’t ‘Inessa’ me. What did you think you were doing, exactly? Playing a burned-out superhero? You’re barely clinging to life, Merrick. You look like a half-cooked breakfast sausage.” She adjusted the pressure on the wound, setting her teeth. “Stay with me. Just… try not to bleed out all over my imported Persian rug. It was a gift, and I’m too tired to clean it.” A ghost of a smile touched his lips, a flicker of the man she knew beneath the ash and grime. “Always… the humor.” “It’s all I have left,” she retorted, pulling a roll of medical tape from her emergency kit – a relic from her days of stress-induced migraines. She secured the bandage, her movements surprisingly efficient. “Now, where are they wounded you? On Pellaris, I mean. Besides the gunshot from before, and the… everything else.” He struggled for breath. “A blade. Just before… I went in the water.” He winced as she gently probed his side. “I didn’t… think it was deep.” “You thought wrong, you stubborn fool,” she murmured, her voice softening despite herself. The blood continued to ooze, but slower now. “You really are a mess. A beautiful, infuriating, self-sacrificing mess.” A shrill trill cut through the tense quiet – her phone. It vibrated on the polished countertop, displaying the caller ID: *Bryce, The Bastard*. Inessa’s face hardened, a mask of cold annoyance slipping into place. She ignored it, pressing a clean cloth to Merrick’s brow. But then it rang again, persistent, grating. Merrick’s eyes, though still clouded with pain, sharpened. A low growl rumbled in his chest. “Who is that?” His gaze flickered to the phone, then back to Inessa, a flash of something possessive burning in their depths. “Nobody important. Just my ex-fiancé, Bryce, who is quite literally the embodiment of everything I fled Morvalis to escape,” Inessa said, her voice dripping with disdain. “He’s probably calling to ask if I’ve changed my mind about ‘settling down’ and ‘rejoining polite society.’ The man thinks ‘settling down’ means enduring his endless golf stories and ‘polite society’ means attending galas where the canapés are as bland as the conversation.” Merrick’s hand, still weak, reached out and gripped her wrist, a surprising strength in his touch. His eyes held hers, fierce and unyielding. “He sounds… like a nuisance.” “Oh, he’s a pest, alright. A persistent, incredibly boring irritation. But not *your* problem.” She tried to pull away, but his grip tightened. His gaze was a silent declaration, a fiercely protective claim she hadn’t anticipated. “Anyone who bothers you… is my problem,” he stated, his voice a low rumble, devoid of its usual quiet reserve. The intensity in his gaze knocked against her ribs, quickening her pulse separate from the danger outside. He was burned, bleeding, and half-dead, yet the raw jealousy in his eyes was undeniable. The phone finally stopped ringing. Then came a faint *clack* from the hallway, followed by a muffled murmur. Inessa’s head snapped up. “Right. Priority one: not dying.” She moved swiftly to the wall panel by the door, her fingers flying across the holographic display. “Good thing this building installed cutting-edge ‘smart-lock’ security after that wave of corporate espionage last year.” Merrick tried to push himself up. “What are you doing?” “Improvising,” she said, her expression grim. Her data analyst habits, dormant for weeks, were back to cataloging patterns and vulnerabilities. “These locks aren’t just for keeping people out. They’re networked to the building’s power grid. High-voltage surge protection, auto-reboot sequences… lovely little features.” She watched the hallway camera feed on the panel. Three hulking figures, clad in dark tactical gear, were attempting to pick the lock with a specialized tool. One grunted, frustrated. “Damn thing’s more stubborn than usual.” “Oh, it is, isn’t it?” Inessa whispered, a predatory glint in her eyes. Her fingers hovered over an icon: a lightning bolt. “Time to test the surge protection… on them.” She tapped the icon, her lips curving. “Let’s see how they like a little static shock with their breaking and entering.” A piercing shriek erupted from the hallway, followed by a cacophony of shouts and a sickening *CRACKLE*. The camera feed flickered, showing brief, distorted images of the three men convulsing, their bodies arching violently before slumping to the floor, smoking. One of them had a small plume of smoke rising from his boot. The smell of ozone drifted faintly under the door. Inessa clapped her hands together, a sharp, decisive sound. “Well, that was efficient. One down, three… possibly more… for the count. And they thought I was just a data analyst.” She knelt beside Merrick again, pulling out a small, portable first-aid kit. “See? I told you not to die. I need you conscious for this next bit.” She cleaned the remaining ash from his face, her touch gentle. “Okay, what about the drive? Is it loaded?” Her laptop, humming quietly on the coffee table, suddenly flashed green. A small notification box appeared: *Decryption Complete. Accessing Data Cache…* Inessa lunged for it, dragging it closer. The screen filled with a dizzying array of numbers, names, and transactions. She scrolled rapidly, her eyes scanning, processing. “Oh, you beautiful, magnificent bastard,” she breathed, staring at the screen. The CEO’s face, smug and self-satisfied, flashed in a small profile picture. Beneath it, a series of accounts, shell companies, and offshore holdings. The numbers were staggering, a labyrinth of illicit wealth that dwarfed anything she’d ever imagined. This wasn’t just embezzling; it was a full-scale financial empire built on corporate corruption. A spike of cold triumph prickled her skin. “The CEO’s offshore accounts,” she stated, her voice tight with triumph. “Every single one of them. Bank statements, transaction logs, illicit transfers… it’s all here. This is it, Merrick. This is enough to bring them down. To obliterate them.” But as she went to copy the files, a red banner flashed across the bottom of the screen, stark against the financial data. *Geo-locked Encryption Key Detected. Access requires physical proximity to source server. Location: Morvalis Corporate Tower, Server Room 7. Time limit: Midnight.*

Smart-Locks and Jealousy