Livvy sat stiffly, fingers drumming against the table, eyes flickering between the three men. Daniel was hunched over a map, his fingers tracing invisible lines over the territory borders. Luca lounged in a chair, his smirk lazy but his eyes sharp, watching the argument unfold with barely contained amusement.
And Storm—Storm looked ready to break something. His arms were crossed, muscles tense, his jaw locked as he glared at Daniel like he was personally offended by the conversation.
“It’s a suicide mission,” Storm growled. “We’re not doing it.”
Daniel barely glanced up. “We don’t have a choice,” he said evenly. “If Michael’s alive, that’s where he is. Unless you’ve got a better idea?”
Storm’s fists clenched, his teeth grinding audibly.
Luca let out a low chuckle, clearly enjoying the show. “I dunno,” he drawled. “Storm charging in with guns blazing does have a certain appeal.”
“Shut up,” Storm snapped.
Luca only grinned.
Daniel finally straightened, rolling his shoulders. “I’m staying behind,” he said, scanning their faces. “Too many of us showing up would be suspicious. If things go sideways, I need to be here to clean up the mess.”
Storm’s jaw tightened, but he gave a curt nod, already calculating the risks.
That left just him and Luca.
The thought made Livvy’s stomach twist.
Luca was… unpredictable. Charming one second, ruthless the next. He had always played by his own rules, teetering between ally and threat, and she wasn’t sure how she felt about being caught in the middle of whatever game he was playing.
Storm must have sensed her hesitation because his voice cut through the air, low and unyielding.
“Luca and I are going. That’s it.”
Livvy inhaled sharply, nerves skittering along her spine. “Fine.”
She met Storm’s gaze, her heart hammering. “But we have to do this.”
Something flickered in his expression. He stared at her for a long moment, something dark working behind his eyes.
Then he swore under his breath, raking a hand through his hair. “Damn it, Livvy—”
Luca smirked. “Just admit she’s right, lover boy. Saves time.”
Storm shot him a look that could peel paint.
But when he exhaled, the tension in his shoulders drained, just slightly. “Fine,” he bit out. “But we do this my way. No hero shit. You stick close and do exactly what I say. Got it?”
Livvy’s chest loosened, relief spreading through her bones. “Got it.”
It was reckless.
It was insane.
But Michael was out there.
And no matter what, she was going to bring him home.
***
An hour later, Livvy barely recognized herself. She stood in front of the mirror, staring at a stranger—a woman painted in dark lipstick, her dress clinging like a second skin, the deep red fabric barely covering anything.
It felt wrong.
The neckline plunged indecently low, the slit creeping high up her thigh, leaving her exposed in ways that made her stomach twist.
Her fingers twitched, itching to cover herself. A slow whistle sounded behind her.
Luca, lounging in the doorway, smirked. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’ve done this before, princess.”
Her glare could’ve melted steel. “Screw you.”
“Tempting.” His grin widened.
Heat burned up her neck, humiliation curling in her chest. But before she could respond, Storm’s presence filled the doorway.
She didn’t have to look to feel him there.
His gaze was heavy, dragging over her inch by inch, his jaw tight, his fists flexing at his sides.
“Perfect,” he murmured.
Livvy swallowed hard.
Storm’s hand pressed firmly against the small of her back, grounding her, and when she looked up, his eyes promised violence to anyone who so much as looked at her wrong.
“Stick close,” he ordered, voice soft but lethal. “If anyone touches you, I’ll kill them.”