Natalya jolted awake as I materialized beside her, her eyes flying open in shock. "What the..?" she breathed, her voice trembling with a mix of awe and confusion.
She scrambled back slightly, her gaze darting over me as if trying to make sense of what she was seeing. "What is going on?!"
I didn’t hold back. Not anymore. "I’m an Incubus," I said, my voice low but steady. "And I have powers—telekinesis, teleportation, a healing factor," I told her about all my abilities.
Her eyes locked onto me, wide with disbelief. Then, hearing about the details of the healing factor, she surged forward, her fingers flying to my chest.
She yanked at the bandages, her breath hitching as she found no wound beneath. "You were acting this whole time?" she demanded, though the corner of her mouth twitched with amusement. "All those bandages, all that pain—it was all a lie?"
I dropped to my knees in front of her, my voice a mix of playfulness and sincerity. "Forgive me, boss," I pleaded, pressing my forehead against her stomach. "I just wanted you to love me."
She laughed, the sound rich and warm, before tugging me back up to face her. "Oh, I do," she murmured, her fingers tangling in my hair. "But you’re still in trouble for lying to me." Her eyes sparkled with excitement, her pulse quickening as she traced her thumb over my lips. "Quickly, tell me what else you’re hiding."
I grinned, but then my expression sobered. "There’s more you need to know."
Her smile faded, sensing the shift in my tone. "Tell me everything."
I took a deep breath. "My real name isn’t Viper," I told her the truth about my real identity. She was shocked, her mind racing as she realized her people had never found a single flaw in my cover.
Then I told her about SERA.
Natalya’s eyes widened, her breath catching. "An artificial intelligence?" she whispered, her voice tinged with awe. I also gave her the watch and installed SERA in it using her laptop.
I told her about Claire and her team’s situation.
Natalya’s grip on my hands tightened, her nails digging into my skin just enough to ground herself in the moment. "Claire," she repeated, her voice a blade honed by years of survival. "The FBI agent who came with Andrey." Her eyes narrowed, the pieces clicking into place. "So she’s out there, right now, hunting my father—thinking he’s the one who killed her team."
"Exactly," I confirmed, my voice low. "And the Italians are counting on it. They want her to take the fall for this, or die trying. Either way, they win."
Natalya exhaled sharply, her mind already racing ahead. "We can’t let her throw her life away on a lie." She released my hands, standing up with the fluid grace of a predator. "But we can’t just tell her the truth, either. Not yet. She’s too far gone on rage. She won’t believe us."
I followed her lead, rising to my feet. "Then we show her."
Natalya turned to me, her dark eyes gleaming with a dangerous light. "How?"
"We give her a target," I said, my voice steady. "Not your father. Not yet. Someone else—someone connected to the Italians. Someone she can sink her teeth into without realizing she’s being led."
A slow, predatory smile curled Natalya’s lips. "You mean... we feed her the truth. Piece by piece."
"Exactly," I said. "We let her follow the breadcrumbs. Let her think she’s hunting Nickolai, but every step she takes brings her closer to the Italians instead. And when she finally sees the truth for herself?" I let the implication hang in the air.
Natalya’s smile widened. "She’ll burn them all for it."
"And we’ll be right there to make sure she doesn’t get burned in the process," I finished.
Natalya nodded, already moving toward her desk where a sleek laptop lay open. "Then we start now," she said, her fingers flying over the keyboard. "I’ll pull up every Italian asset in the city. We find the weakest link—the one Claire can break without setting off alarms."
I stepped beside her, watching as she cross-referenced names, locations, and connections. "What about your father?" I asked. "He’s still a target. If Claire gets to him before we can redirect her—"
"He won’t," Natalya interrupted, her voice firm. "I’ll make sure of it. My father’s been surviving wars since before I was born. He’ll go underground until this blows over." She glanced at me, her expression unreadable. "But you’re right. We can’t leave him exposed. Not with Claire out there."
I nodded, my mind already racing ahead. "Then we need to move fast. Claire’s not the type to wait. She’s already out there, and she’s not stopping until someone’s blood is on her hands."
Natalya’s fingers paused over the keyboard, her gaze locking onto mine. "Then we make sure it’s the right blood." She turned back to the screen, her voice dropping to a deadly whisper. "Starting now."
I watched as she pulled up a file, a name highlighted in red: "Marco Rossi. Mid-level enforcer for the Italians. Cocky. Reckless. And right now, he’s holed up in a warehouse near the docks, overseeing a shipment of weapons meant for the Italian Mafia."
A slow grin spread across my face. "Perfect. He’s the kind of target Claire won’t be able to resist."
Natalya shut the laptop with a sharp snap, her eyes meeting mine. "Then let’s set the trap." She reached for her phone, her voice cool and calculated as she began issuing orders. "And Jack?"
"Yeah?"
Her gaze was steel. "Make sure she doesn’t get herself killed before she realizes who the real enemy is."
I smirked. "Wouldn’t dream of it."
Natalya’s lips curled into a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. "Good. Because if she dies before she takes down Rossi, I’m holding you personally responsible."
I chuckled, but there was no humor in it. "Understood."
She tossed me a burner phone, her expression all business. "Use this to feed her the intel. Anonymous tip. Untraceable. Make it look like it’s coming from one of Nickolai’s men—someone desperate to save their own skin."
I caught the phone, my mind already crafting the message. "And what are you going to be doing while I’m playing?"
Natalya’s smile turned razor-sharp. "Me? I’m going to make sure the Italians don’t see us coming until it’s too late." She grabbed her coat, her movements fluid, lethal. "Now go. Claire’s running out of time—and so are we."