The Airport
Aaliyah
The airport felt different today. Maybe it was because every goodbye felt heavier now that she had Cruz, or maybe it was just the gnawing awareness that this moment of peace was slipping through her fingers again. Salzburg had felt safe. Comfortable. Almost normal. But Aaliyah knew normal was an illusion. The world outside the bubble she and Cruz had built wasn’t going to stop hunting her down.
Still, standing beside Cruz made it easier to forget all that. Cruz had this way of making Aaliyah feel invincible, like no matter what danger came their way, she would shield her from it. Aaliyah glanced sideways at her, noting the quiet confidence in the way Cruz walked—controlled, precise, and unyielding. The tension in Cruz’s shoulders was subtle, barely noticeable to someone who didn’t know her well. But Aaliyah noticed. She always noticed.
They approached the airline counter, and Aaliyah handed over her passport and ticket with what she hoped was a relaxed smile. Cruz followed suit, standing just behind her. Aaliyah tried to focus on the steady hum of the airport—the rolling wheels of suitcases, the distant murmur of announcements over the intercom. She told herself this was just another step in their journey. Nothing to worry about.
But then the scanner beeped. Loud. Sharp. Wrong.
Aaliyah’s stomach clenched as the airline agent’s polite expression shifted slightly, her eyes flicking down to the screen. “I’m sorry, but your tickets have been flagged for additional screening,” the woman said, her voice practiced but impersonal. “Please step aside. Security will assist you shortly.”
Flagged? Aaliyah’s heart jumped into her throat. She tried to keep her expression neutral, but the word echoed in her mind, each repetition more ominous than the last. She stole a glance at Cruz, hoping for some sign that this wasn’t as bad as it felt. But Cruz’s expression was unreadable—calm, collected, but with a sharpness in her eyes that sent a shiver down Aaliyah’s spine.
“Flagged?” Aaliyah asked, trying to keep her voice steady. “What does that mean?”
“It’s just a routine check,” the agent responded, but her tone did little to ease Aaliyah’s nerves. “Please wait over there.”
Routine, right. Totally routine. Except nothing about her life was routine anymore.
She moved to the designated waiting area with Cruz beside her, every step feeling heavier than the last. Aaliyah could feel her pulse quickening, a dull roar building in her ears. This was supposed to be simple. Get to the airport. Catch a flight. Lay low in Milan. She hadn’t mentally prepared for being stopped by airport security.
Cruz, as always, stayed perfectly composed. Aaliyah envied that calm. No hesitation. No visible fear. Just the kind of quiet control that came from years of surviving the worst. Cruz’s hand was steady on the handle of her bag, but Aaliyah noticed the subtle shift in her posture—the way she positioned herself slightly in front, shielding Aaliyah in case things went sideways.
Two uniformed officers approached, and Aaliyah’s breath caught. They weren’t in trouble. Not yet. But something about the way they moved—the practiced efficiency, the lack of explanation—set her on edge.
“This way, please,” one of the officers said, his voice neutral but firm.
Aaliyah exchanged a brief glance with Cruz before following, forcing herself to keep her head high. She felt Cruz’s presence beside her like an anchor, grounding her as they wove through the busy terminal. She tried to focus on her breathing, on the steady rhythm of her steps. It’s fine. This is just a precaution. Stay calm. Stick to the plan.
But when they reached a quieter section of the terminal, away from the bustling crowds, Aaliyah’s nerves frayed further. A long corridor stretched before them, lined with small, windowless rooms. It felt too isolated, too sterile. Like they were being led somewhere they couldn’t easily escape from.
“We’ll need to interview you separately,” one of the officers said, gesturing toward the doors. “Standard procedure.”
Aaliyah’s pulse spiked. Separate them? No. That wasn’t part of the plan. She turned to Cruz instinctively, her heart racing. Being apart meant vulnerability. Being apart meant a higher chance of making a mistake.
“No,” Cruz said, her voice low and calm but laced with steel. “We stay together.”
Aaliyah’s heart swelled at Cruz’s immediate refusal. Of course she wouldn’t agree to being separated. Cruz wasn’t just her protector—she was her partner now, in every sense of the word.
“I’m afraid that’s not possible,” the officer said, his tone polite but unyielding. “This is a routine screening, and it requires individual interviews. You’ll be reunited after the process is complete. If you wish to continue on your flight, you’ll need to comply.”
Aaliyah saw the tension in Cruz’s jaw, the way her fingers tightened slightly around her bag. For a moment, she thought Cruz might refuse again, might try to find a way around it. But then Cruz exhaled slowly, her gaze shifting to Aaliyah with a look that was both reassuring and reluctant.
“It’s okay,” Cruz said quietly, stepping closer. “We knew this might happen.”
Aaliyah’s heart raced. Cruz’s calm was comforting, but it didn’t erase the fear gnawing at her. “But what if—”
“We stick to the story,” Cruz interrupted gently, her voice steady but firm. “Kate and Sam Mendez. Married, on vacation. You’ve got this.”
Aaliyah nodded, trying to draw strength from Cruz’s unwavering confidence. The warmth of Cruz’s hand on her arm grounded her, the gentle pressure a quiet reminder that she wasn’t alone. Cruz was here. Cruz always had her back.
“And remember,” Cruz added, her voice barely above a whisper, “if anything feels wrong, use what I taught you.”
Aaliyah’s breath caught. Cruz wasn’t just preparing her for an interview—she was preparing her for a fight. The thought sent a fresh wave of anxiety through her, but she pushed it down, nodding again.
“I’ll be fine,” she said, more to convince herself than Cruz.
Cruz’s eyes softened briefly, a flicker of something tender breaking through her usual stoicism. She pulled Aaliyah into a brief hug—not too tight, not too long, but enough to steady her nerves. “I’ll see you soon,” Cruz murmured.
The hug caught Aaliyah off guard, but she clung to it, savoring the brief comfort. Cruz wasn’t one for public displays of affection, especially in tense situations. But right now, it felt like everything Aaliyah needed.
“See you soon,” Aaliyah whispered back, trying to sound braver than she felt.
Cruz gave her one last look—a silent promise in her dark eyes—before turning toward one of the interview rooms. Aaliyah watched her go, heart pounding, before turning to face the officer waiting to escort her.
You’ve got this, she told herself as she followed him inside. Just stick to the story. Kate and Sam Mendez. Married. Vacation.
But no matter how much she repeated the words in her head, the uneasy feeling in her chest didn’t go away.
--
Aaliyah was led down a long, sterile hallway, the faint hum of fluorescent lights above her doing little to ease her growing unease. Her heart pounded in her chest, a drumbeat that only seemed to grow louder with every step she took. She could still feel the imprint of Cruz’s arms around her from that brief hug, her whispered words replaying in her mind like a mantra: Stick to the story. Remember what I taught you. You’ve got this.
But right now, Aaliyah didn’t feel like she had this at all.
The airport security officer in front of her didn’t speak, his posture rigid as he guided her into a small, windowless room. A metal table sat in the center with two chairs on either side. The walls were stark white, bare except for a camera mounted in the top corner, its red light blinking steadily. The whole setup felt unnervingly clinical, like she was about to be interrogated rather than questioned.
“Please have a seat,” the officer said, his voice neutral, devoid of emotion.
Aaliyah sat down, clasping her hands tightly in her lap to stop them from trembling. She reminded herself to breathe—deep, steady breaths, just like Cruz had taught her. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Stay calm.
Moments later, a second officer entered the room, carrying a thin file. He was older, with sharp eyes that seemed to study her a little too closely as he sat down across from her. He placed the file on the table but didn’t open it right away.
“We’re conducting a routine check,” he began, his tone mild, almost friendly. “Standard protocol for flagged tickets. Nothing to be concerned about.”
Aaliyah forced a polite smile, though her pulse quickened at the word flagged. Why had their tickets been flagged? Had someone tipped them off? Was this random, or something more sinister?
“Of course,” she said, keeping her voice steady. “I understand.”
The officer smiled faintly, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He opened the file, glancing at it briefly before meeting her gaze again. “Let’s start with some basic questions. Your name?”
“Kate Mendez,” Aaliyah answered smoothly, sticking to the cover identity they had rehearsed a dozen times on the way to the airport.
“And your travel companion?”
“My wife, Sam Mendez.”
The word wife felt strange on her tongue, but she didn’t let it show. She met the officer’s gaze head-on, channeling Cruz’s calm confidence as best as she could.
“And the purpose of your visit to Italy?”
“Vacation,” Aaliyah replied. “We’re on a bit of a honeymoon, actually.”
The officer’s eyebrow twitched slightly, as if he hadn’t expected that answer. Aaliyah pressed on, keeping her tone light and casual. “We’ve been traveling through Europe—Salzburg, next Milan. Just enjoying some time away together.”
The officer nodded slowly, jotting something down on a notepad. So far, everything felt routine. But then the questions shifted.
“Have you traveled outside of Europe recently?”
Aaliyah frowned slightly, feigning mild confusion. “No, not recently.”
“Are you sure? No trips to the Middle East, perhaps?”
The question made her heart skip a beat. She forced herself to stay composed, her fingers tightening slightly in her lap. “No,” she said carefully. “We’ve been planning this trip for a while, so we haven’t been anywhere else.”
The officer didn’t respond immediately. He tapped his pen against the notepad, studying her closely. Aaliyah felt her palms grow clammy, but she didn’t dare wipe them on her pants. Stay calm. Stick to the story.
“Do you have any family in Europe?” he asked next, his tone still casual, but Aaliyah couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something more behind the question.
“No,” she said quickly. “We’re both from New York.”
“And your maiden name?”
“Taylor,” Aaliyah answered, her voice steady. “Kate Taylor before I married Sam.”
The officer jotted something else down, but Aaliyah noticed the way his eyes flicked to the camera in the corner for a brief moment. It was subtle, but enough to make her pulse spike. Why did it feel like this was more than just routine security? Why did it feel like they were looking for something—or someone?
“Any extended family? Cousins, uncles, perhaps?” the officer asked, leaning forward slightly.
“No, not really. Just me and Sam.” Aaliyah forced another smile, though it felt brittle. “Is something wrong?”
The officer smiled faintly, leaning back again. “No, not at all. Just doing our job.”
Aaliyah nodded slowly, though the tension in her chest refused to ease. The questions had felt harmless at first, but now they seemed to be heading in a strange direction—one that made her increasingly uneasy. Why would airport security care about her family or her travel history outside of Europe?
Something’s off. They know something. But what?
The officer closed the file and stood. “Thank you for your cooperation, Mrs. Mendez. Please wait here. Someone will be along shortly to escort you back.”
Aaliyah’s stomach twisted at the words. She nodded stiffly, watching as the officer left the room. The door closed behind him with a soft click, leaving her alone in the sterile, silent space.
As soon as she was alone, her composure cracked. She exhaled shakily, her hands trembling as she rubbed them against her thighs. Her mind raced with possibilities. Had they been made? Had someone recognized Cruz? Was this tied to her father, or was it something else entirely?
Calm down. Think. What would Cruz do?
Aaliyah closed her eyes for a moment, focusing on her breathing. She needed to stay calm, to think clearly. Panicking wouldn’t help. Cruz had told her that if things went south, the most important thing was to stick to the cover story. They had rehearsed it so many times, it was practically second nature now. She just had to trust in it—and in Cruz.
Minutes passed, each one dragging by painfully slowly. Aaliyah couldn’t tell if it had been five minutes or fifty when the door finally opened again. This time, a different officer entered, his expression neutral.
“You’re free to go, Mrs. Mendez. Please follow me.”
Aaliyah stood on shaky legs, clutching her bag tightly as she followed the officer out of the room. Her heart pounded with every step, but relief washed over her when she spotted Cruz waiting in the hallway. Cruz’s expression was carefully blank, but the tension in her posture was unmistakable.
As soon as Aaliyah reached her, Cruz’s hand found hers, giving it a brief, reassuring squeeze. The touch grounded her, chased away the lingering fear that had gripped her moments ago.
“Everything okay?” Cruz asked quietly, her voice low enough that only Aaliyah could hear.
“Yeah,” Aaliyah whispered back. “Let’s just get out of here.”
Cruz nodded, her eyes flicking briefly to the officers behind them before leading Aaliyah down the hallway. They didn’t speak again until they were back in the main terminal, the noise and bustle of the airport washing over them like a wave.
Aaliyah exhaled slowly, the tension in her chest finally easing as they merged with the crowd. But even as they headed toward their gate, a nagging feeling remained in the back of her mind.
That wasn’t normal. Something’s going on, and we need to figure out what.
She glanced at Cruz, who was already scanning their surroundings with that familiar, calculating gaze. Whatever had just happened, Aaliyah knew one thing for certain—Cruz wouldn’t rest until she had answers.
--
Aaliyah clung tightly to Cruz’s hand as they made their way through the terminal. Her pulse was still racing, her mind caught in a whirlwind of unease. She tried to focus on the hum of the airport around her—the clatter of wheels on tile, the low murmur of voices—but all she could think about was that interrogation room. The pointed questions about her family, the way they had separated her from Cruz… It hadn’t felt like normal airport security.
Beside her, Cruz walked with purpose, her grip firm but steady. Aaliyah could sense the tension radiating off her—the way her eyes scanned the crowd, her jaw clenched tight. Cruz had always been vigilant, always prepared for danger. But this felt different. This felt personal.
“Cruz, what was that?” Aaliyah asked quietly, glancing up at her as they turned a corner toward their gate.
Cruz didn’t respond right away. Her gaze flicked around the terminal, lingering on faces and exits, as though cataloging every possible threat. “Not here,” she murmured, her voice low and measured. “Too public.”
Aaliyah bit her lip, frustration bubbling just beneath the surface. She wanted answers, needed them. But she trusted Cruz—trusted her instincts, trusted her judgment. Even now, when everything felt uncertain, Cruz’s presence was the only thing keeping her grounded.
They found a quieter corner near the gate, away from the main crowd. Aaliyah slowed her steps, unsure whether to press Cruz for more information or let it go for now. Before she could decide, Cruz surprised her by stepping in close and wrapping her arms around her.
Aaliyah stiffened at first, caught off guard by the sudden embrace. Cruz wasn’t usually this openly affectionate, especially not in public. But as the warmth of Cruz’s body seeped into her, as she felt the strength in her arms and the steady beat of her heart, Aaliyah relaxed. She leaned into the hug, her hands resting lightly on Cruz’s back.
“It’s okay,” Cruz whispered, her breath warm against Aaliyah’s neck. “We’re okay.”
Aaliyah closed her eyes, letting the tension in her shoulders melt away. Cruz’s grip was firm but gentle, grounding her in a way that nothing else could. She felt Cruz’s hands move in slow, soothing circles against her back, a quiet reassurance that spoke louder than words.
“I just… I hated being separated from you,” Aaliyah admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t know what was happening. And those questions—they didn’t feel random.”
“I know,” Cruz said softly. “It wasn’t random. But I’ve got you, Aaliyah. We’ll get through this.”
Aaliyah pulled back slightly, enough to meet Cruz’s gaze. There was a softness in her dark eyes, a quiet intensity that made Aaliyah’s heart ache. She reached up, brushing her fingers lightly along Cruz’s jaw. “Promise me you’ll tell me what’s going on. When it’s safe.”
Cruz hesitated for a beat, then nodded. “I promise.”
Satisfied, Aaliyah gave her a small smile, leaning in to press a brief kiss to Cruz’s lips. It wasn’t about passion—it was about connection, about trust. Cruz responded in kind, her lips soft and warm against Aaliyah’s, a silent reaffirmation of her promise.
When they pulled apart, Aaliyah rested her forehead against Cruz’s, savoring the quiet moment. “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” she murmured.
“You won’t have to find out,” Cruz replied, her voice steady. “I’m not going anywhere.”
They boarded the plane a few minutes later, Aaliyah still holding Cruz’s hand as they made their way down the aisle. Their tickets had placed them near the back, away from most of the other passengers. Cruz took the aisle seat, positioning herself in a way that allowed her to keep an eye on the rest of the plane, while Aaliyah slid into the window seat beside her.
As the plane began to fill, Aaliyah found herself stealing glances at Cruz. The tension in her shoulders hadn’t entirely eased, but there was a quiet determination in her expression that made Aaliyah feel safer. Cruz might have been worried, but she wasn’t letting it consume her. She was still here, still present, still with her.
“You okay?” Cruz asked, turning slightly to look at her.
Aaliyah nodded, but the truth was more complicated. She was okay in the sense that she was alive, that they were still together. But the unease from earlier lingered, a shadow she couldn’t quite shake. “I just… I don’t like not knowing what’s going on.”
“I’ll tell you everything once we’re somewhere safe,” Cruz said, her tone reassuring. “For now, just focus on this. We’re together. We’re okay.”
Aaliyah smiled faintly, reaching for Cruz’s hand again. “Thanks for being my rock.”
Cruz gave her hand a gentle squeeze, her thumb brushing lightly over her knuckles. “Always.”
The plane began to taxi down the runway, the rumble of the engines filling the cabin. Aaliyah leaned her head against Cruz’s shoulder, her fingers still laced with hers. She didn’t know what awaited them in Milan, didn’t know how much more danger they’d have to face. But for now, in this moment, she let herself find comfort in Cruz’s presence.
Cruz
The hotel lobby was unusually quiet for mid-morning, the soft hum of conversations blending with the rhythmic clatter of suitcases being wheeled across the marble floor. Cruz stood near the entrance, her eyes fixed on the street outside as she mentally ran through their travel plan again.
Get to the airport. Pick up the tickets. Move through security without drawing attention. Board the plane to Frankfurt, and from there, catch the connecting flight to Milan. Simple enough—except it never really was.
Beside her, Aaliyah adjusted the strap of her bag, her expression outwardly calm but betrayed by the subtle tension in her shoulders. Cruz could read her like a book by now, every micro-expression and nervous habit cataloged and committed to memory. She knew Aaliyah was nervous—not just about the trip, but about leaving Salzburg. They’d built something here, even if temporary, and now they had to tear it down and move on.
“You ready?” Cruz asked, her voice low, steady.
Aaliyah nodded, offering a small smile. “As I’ll ever be.”
Cruz didn’t miss the hesitation in her tone. She reached out, placing a hand lightly on Aaliyah’s lower back as they stepped outside. The gesture wasn’t purely protective—it was grounding, a quiet reassurance for both of them.
The ride to the airport was uneventful, though Cruz’s mind never stopped working. Every turn of the wheels, every passing car, every unfamiliar face on the street was logged and analyzed. She couldn’t afford to relax, not with Aaliyah’s father’s men somewhere out there, possibly closing in. And yet, despite the ever-present tension, there was a part of her that was distracted—not by danger, but by the woman sitting beside her.
Aaliyah leaned against the window, watching the city blur past, her expression thoughtful. Cruz found herself studying her in the reflection—her soft features, the way her hair framed her face, the slight furrow of her brow as she lost herself in thought. It made something tighten in Cruz’s chest.
She turned her attention back to the road, forcing herself to focus. Emotions could wait. Safety couldn’t.
--
The airport was bustling with travelers, the familiar chaos of departures and arrivals filling the air. Cruz’s grip on Aaliyah’s hand tightened slightly as they approached the ticketing desk. She scanned the area, noting exits, security checkpoints, and the people around them. Nothing seemed immediately off, but that didn’t mean they were in the clear.
“Just act normal,” Cruz murmured, keeping her voice low.
Aaliyah gave her a teasing smile. “Define normal.”
Aaliyah stepped up to the counter first, offering a warm smile to the ticket agent. Cruz handed over their IDs, her expression neutral but watchful as the agent typed in their information.
The agent nodded, but as the seconds stretched on, something shifted in her demeanor. Her smile wavered slightly, and her fingers hovered uncertainly over the keyboard. Then, the ticket scanner let out a sharp beep. Cruz’s instincts flared to life. Something wasn’t right.
“Is there a problem?” Cruz asked, keeping her tone polite but firm.
The agent blinked, quickly recovering her composure. “I’m sorry, but your tickets have been flagged for additional screening. Please step aside. Security will assist you shortly.”
Cruz’s jaw clenched, but she didn’t argue. Causing a scene wouldn’t help. Instead, she shot Aaliyah a glance, silently signaling her to stay calm. Aaliyah nodded slightly, her expression curious but not panicked. Good. At least one of them could appear unbothered.
Minutes later, two uniformed airport security officers approached. Cruz tensed immediately, her hand instinctively twitching toward her hip before remembering she wasn’t armed.
“Ms. Mendez, Ms. Mendez,” one of the officers said, addressing them by their aliases. “We need to conduct a routine inspection. Please come with us. This way, please.”
Cruz’s eyes narrowed. Routine, my ass. But she didn’t voice her suspicion. Instead, she gave Aaliyah a brief nod and followed the officers, her hand brushing Aaliyah’s in a quiet gesture of reassurance.
Cruz exchanged a brief glance with Aaliyah, who looked equally confused. “Routine inspection?” Cruz repeated, her tone skeptical.
“Standard procedure,” the officer said smoothly. “It won’t take long.”
Cruz didn’t believe that for a second, but she knew they didn’t have a choice. Causing a scene would only draw more attention. “Fine,” she said curtly. “Lead the way.”
They were led through a side corridor, away from the bustling terminal. The air grew cooler, the hum of activity fading behind them as the hallway became eerily quiet. Cruz’s senses sharpened with every step, her pulse steady but her mind racing. Something about this felt off—too deliberate, too orchestrated.
When they reached the end of the hall, one of the officers gestured toward two separate doors. “We’ll need to conduct individual interviews,” he said.
Cruz’s posture stiffened, her expression hardening. “No. We stay together.”
The officer remained unfazed, his tone professional but unyielding. “I’m afraid that’s not possible. If you want to board your flight, you’ll need to comply.”
Cruz shot Aaliyah a quick glance. She hated this. Being separated made them vulnerable. But arguing further would only escalate things, and that wasn’t a risk she was willing to take—not yet.
She leaned in close, wrapping an arm around Aaliyah in a gesture that was both protective and intimate. “Stick to the cover story,” she whispered against her ear. “Don’t offer anything extra. You’ve got this.”
Aaliyah nodded, her grip on Cruz tightening briefly before they let go. Cruz forced herself to step back, watching as Aaliyah was led into one of the rooms. Only when the door clicked shut behind her did Cruz turn to follow the remaining officer.
The room was stark and sterile, the air smelling faintly of disinfectant. Cruz took a seat across from the officer, her posture relaxed but ready. She knew how these things worked—she’d been on the other side of this table before, during her time with the CIA.
The officer started with standard questions—name, destination, purpose of travel. Cruz answered smoothly, sticking to the rehearsed story they’d practiced earlier. But then the questions shifted.
“Have you traveled extensively before this trip?”
“Yes. Mostly for work,” Cruz replied, keeping her tone neutral.
“Any connections to prominent families in the Middle East?”
Cruz’s eyes narrowed slightly. That was not a routine question. “No,” she said carefully. “Why?”
“Just standard procedure,” the officer said, but Cruz wasn’t buying it. The line of questioning was too pointed, too familiar. And then it clicked—this wasn’t about smuggling or security concerns. This was something else entirely.
Her mind raced. The questions, the controlled demeanor of the officer, the way they’d been flagged so deliberately—it all pointed to one thing. This wasn’t Aaliyah’s father’s doing. No, this was the work of a more organized entity. She knew these tactics too well. It smelled of intelligence work, and she had a sinking feeling she knew exactly who was behind it.
The CIA.
When the interview ended, Cruz was escorted back into the hallway. Relief washed over her when she saw Aaliyah waiting there, unharmed but visibly tense.
“You okay?” Cruz asked quietly, her eyes scanning Aaliyah’s face for any signs of distress.
Aaliyah nodded, though her grip on Cruz’s hand was tighter than usual. “Yeah. Just… glad that’s over.”
Cruz gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, though her mind was still racing. If the CIA was involved, things were about to get a lot more complicated. But for now, they needed to focus on getting out of here.
“Let’s get to the gate,” Cruz said, keeping her voice low. “We’ll talk later.”
Aaliyah didn’t argue, though Cruz could see the questions in her eyes. She hated keeping her in the dark, but the middle of an airport wasn’t the place for this conversation. Too public. Too risky.
As they made their way back toward the main terminal, Cruz kept a protective arm around Aaliyah’s waist, her eyes scanning for anything out of place. She could feel the tension in Aaliyah, the way she leaned into her slightly, seeking comfort. Without thinking, Cruz pressed a light kiss to the top of Aaliyah’s head, whispering, “We’ve got this.”
The words were simple, but they seemed to ease Aaliyah’s tension slightly. Cruz held her a little tighter, the warmth of her presence grounding her despite the chaos swirling in her mind.
They reached the gate without further incident, and as they sat down to wait for boarding, Cruz’s mind was already working through their next steps. Milan wasn’t just a new city—it was a new playing field. And if the CIA was involved, they needed to be ready for anything.
--
The muffled hum of airport chatter faded into the background as Cruz leaned back in her seat, her arms folded across her chest. On the surface, she looked calm—stoic, composed, her usual self. But inside, her mind was a storm of questions, all circling the same, inescapable point: the CIA was watching them. Watching her.
Why?
Her fingers tapped against her arm, a steady rhythm masking her growing unease. This wasn’t how things were supposed to go. She’d been meticulous—choosing aliases, crafting a backstory that would hold up under scrutiny, ensuring their movements left no digital trail. The system she had created was flawless. Or so she thought.
The interview replayed in her mind, each question sharper than the last. “Any connections to prominent families in the Middle East?” That was the moment it had clicked, the moment the undercurrent of familiarity had surged to the surface. The phrasing, the subtle emphasis—it was a page out of the Agency’s playbook.
Her former life felt like a distant memory, yet now it loomed large. Cruz had left the CIA’s Special Activities Division years ago, walking away on good terms. She’d completed her last mission, tied up loose ends, and submitted her resignation through official channels. There had been no black marks on her record, no lingering shadows of suspicion. She was good at what she did, but she’d never gone rogue. She’d left quietly, methodically, leaving no reason for the Agency to keep tabs on her.
So why now?
Her mind darted back to her final months in the field, her last mission in particular. She’d worked alongside local assets to dismantle a weapons trafficking ring, a meticulous operation that had ended with surgical precision. But the Middle East was a web of complications, and even the cleanest extractions left ripples. Had something come back to haunt her?
And then there was Aaliyah.
Her gaze shifted to the woman sitting beside her. Aaliyah leaned against her shoulder, her breathing soft and even, the tension of the morning easing with every second. She looked fragile like this, vulnerable in a way Cruz rarely allowed herself to see. It made her chest ache.
What did the Agency want with her?
The timing was too convenient to be coincidence. Aaliyah’s father, her fiancé, their connections—Cruz could see the dots forming a picture she didn’t like. If the CIA was involved, it wasn’t because of her. They were after Aaliyah, or more likely, the people tied to her. Her father’s wealth and influence were matched only by his ruthlessness. And Ehsan… Cruz’s jaw clenched at the thought of him, his name alone a bitter taste in her mouth.
It was logical—hell, it was obvious. The CIA wanted Asmar and Ehsan. But why now? And why involve her?
The questions wouldn’t stop coming, and for the first time in a long while, Cruz felt like she didn’t have all the answers. Her job, her purpose, was to protect Aaliyah, to stay one step ahead of danger. But how could she protect her from something so insidious, so calculated? If the CIA had compromised their cover, how long before Asmar’s men did the same?
Her stomach twisted at the thought, but she didn’t let it show. Aaliyah needed stability, reassurance, not the weight of Cruz’s doubts. That was the unspoken rule, the foundation of their partnership—Cruz carried the burden so Aaliyah wouldn’t have to.
Focus.
Her training kicked in, forcing her mind to sharpen, to categorize the chaos into manageable pieces. First, she needed to verify the CIA’s involvement. The questions had felt like a test, a way to gauge her reaction more than an actual investigation. They hadn’t moved to detain her or Aaliyah, which meant either they didn’t want to blow their cover, or they weren’t entirely certain who they were dealing with. That gave her a sliver of an advantage—slight, but she’d take it.
Second, they had to get to Milan. Her contact there was reliable, discreet, and resourceful. Cruz could set up a temporary base, assess their options, and figure out the next move. If the CIA was watching, they’d be watching Milan too, but that was a risk she’d already accounted for.
Third, and most importantly, Aaliyah.
Her eyes flicked back to her. She was so close, her warmth bleeding through the layers of Cruz’s carefully constructed defenses. Aaliyah deserved the truth—she deserved to know everything. But not here, not now. Cruz had made her a promise to keep her safe, and part of that meant controlling the narrative, protecting her from unnecessary fear.
But wasn’t that what this was? Fear?
Cruz exhaled quietly, her fingers curling into her palms. The truth was simple: she was scared. Not of the CIA, not of Asmar or Ehsan, but of failing Aaliyah. Of losing her. The realization was as terrifying as it was undeniable.
Her hand drifted to Aaliyah’s, fingers brushing against hers in a gesture so small it could have been an accident. Aaliyah stirred slightly, her head tilting upward to meet Cruz’s gaze. There was trust in her eyes, trust that Cruz wasn’t sure she deserved but would do anything to protect.
Keep it together.
The flight announcement crackled overhead, breaking the silence. Cruz’s grip on Aaliyah’s hand tightened briefly before she released it, sitting up straighter. They needed to move. They needed to stay ahead of whatever storm was brewing.
Milan was waiting, and Cruz wasn’t going to let anything stop them.