Short-lived win. A single moment in which the pulls turn to push, and Alouette is holding onto the rope too tightly to let go in time.

Harry's touch feels like lightning, it sets her skin alight wherever it grazes her. His fingertips are hot, they leave a burning trail in their wake as they slide down her sides. His weight is on top of her, even though he's holding himself up on one elbow. If this is what drowning in his kisses feels like, she wouldn't mind sinking to the bottom of the ocean with him.

Alouette's head spins and her soul aches, his mouth kisses down her jawline. He gently sucks on a spot on her neck, and she doesn't know if her heart can take it this time around. It isn't the first time they're so close to each other, but this time around it feels forbidden. After everything she's done to him she deserves to be screamed, cursed at. She doesn't deserve his favour. But it feels so right, and she doesn't want to push Harry away just yet. She wants to get lost into his touch for just a while longer, forget about everything and anything just for a second.

For a moment, she wonders what would've happened if they'd met under different circumstances. For some reason, she thinks they'd still end up right here, in this very moment, because circumstances are the only thing that doesn't seem to matter when it comes to them. She's been falling for him since she still believed it was her duty to kill him, and he's accepting her even through she's a traitor and a liar—the two very things he claims to despise.

They should hate each other, but they really can't. Probably, that's where they both went wrong since the start. The web of untold truths and intrigues around them is getting even tighter, Alouette can already tell. She doesn't even know who's doing whose game, at this point.

Her hands are in his hair and his are gliding up her thighs, and it's nothing like that dark, hateful kiss they shared under the rain. He made her kneel in front of him to beg his forgiveness then, and it looks like he's just found another day to bring her to her knees for him.

Kissing him doesn't feel like falling anymore—she wonders if it's because she's already crashed. There's no wind in her ears, no tell of danger—just the deep silence of the depths of the ocean. No, she's not falling—she's sinking, deeper and deeper with every second that goes by. This time she knows her actions won't fall into the void—if she kisses him today, there will be consequences tomorrow, the day after that, in a month, in a year, in a decade.

It means something. She cannot erase it, she cannot ignore it. Is it really Harry making her sink deeper now, or is she the one pulling him down with her?

He moans against her mouth when she pulls him closer, and the sound excites her. She has power over him just as he does over her. She can make him feel in ways he's never felt before, she can shatter his soul just like he shatters hers.

She remembers their first kiss, back in the Palace. She remembers his dishevelled look and the way it'd made her feel to see him like that. She smiles. He's just as hers as she's his.

She kisses him harder, his tongue delves into her mouth and her heart is beating so fast she fears it'll break out of her chest. Her cheeks are hot, and so is his skin in the places it comes in contact with hers. She wants to take off the layers that separate them and drown in the way his body feels against her, on top of her, in her. Her hands slide up his back, under his shirt.

He halts for a moment, and then grazes her bottom lip. "Do you want me to take it off?" he murmurs into her ear, his breath is rushed.

Yes, Alouette thinks, but the word doesn't make it to her mouth, because another thought does. Does he truly want her as much as she wants him, or is it just another one of his tricks?

"Wait," she says instead, and Harry sits up between her legs.

"Regretting it?" he asks, somewhat playfully, somewhat honestly. That ambiguous tone she can never tell if it's mocking her, or if it's simply the only way he knows to express what he truly thinks.

She pats him down in silence, and he clenches his teeth.

"What are you doing?"

"If it's a trick, I'm not falling for it," Alouette announces.

For once, he seems to be genuinely confused. "A trick?"

She crosses her arms. "Are you planning on stabbing me while I'm distracted?"

For a moment, he doesn't seem to understand. Then, he pulls out the knife from the pocket of his jeans. "Talking about this?" Before she can say a word, he snaps it open and throws it at the opposite side of the room so forcefully that it gets stuck in the wall.

Alouette lets out a surprised squeal.

Harry turns to look at her and a smile curves his lips. "Better, now?"

She pulls him in and crashes her mouth against his. He's still smiling into the kiss, and his arms wrap around her. He tugs her hair to make her raise her chin and his lips graze her neck in a feather-like kiss. He bites on a spot under her jaw and then soothes the sensitive skin of her throat with his tongue, and she feels like she's about to combust.

His hands are on her sides again, and he pulls her onto his lap. His nose brushes her cheek when a moment of hesitation comes over her. "What is it, Lark?" he whispers.

She shakes her head and kisses him again, but her previous doubt comes to haunt her mind again.

What is she even doing? Harry is her prisoner, and shouldn't be anything more. Why is she letting him take it that far? Why does she even want to take it that far? She should know better. She should be smarter than this. She can't keep letting him win and falling at his feet just because he says so. If her will is already so weak, how can she ever expect to use him as she's planning to do? If she lets it continue now, she'll have lost now and forever. She can't accept that.

"This isn't right."

Harry's hands fall from her sides. "It's never stopped you before, has it?" There's an edge in his voice.

Alouette puts her hand on his neck, her thumb grazes his cheek. There's a faint stubble on his jaw now, since he hasn't shaved in days. "You're right," she replies. "I really was a terrible person, isn't that right?"

"You were," he murmurs. His lips brush her ear as he leans in to whisper his next words to her like a secret. "But I've already told you I don't like good girls, haven't I?"

"Do you like girls when they try to kill you, then?" she muses.

"I like them especially then," he says. "I like to keep things exciting. I'm not made for boring encounters."

"I see."

She puts her arms on his shoulders and they lose balance and fall back, Harry's back on the mattress and Alouette on top of him. His head barely misses the nightstand and hers barely misses his. She's sprawled on top of him, and his heart is beating so fast that she can feel it too. He seems to notice the same thing, because he immediately tenses up.

Alouette lets out a hopeless sigh and leans her forehead on his chest. "How pathetic," she mutters.

"What?" he asks, sitting back up and pulling her up with him.

"Nothing," she replies, but corrects herself right after. "Everything. Me." She's stuck there, and the people that should be on her side aren't, and the only one that somewhat is likely wants her dead—or has no intention of truly being associated with her. The worst part is that she can't even blame him. Of course Harry is unsure around her. If he deserved her betrayal, then she also deserves to be kept at an arm's length.

Harry raises her chin and kisses her. Her heart drops out of her chest, and he stills in the second he realises what he's done.

"Harry—"

"Fuck," he mutters, letting go of her and standing up.

She reaches out to him to stop him but he walks out of the room, leaving her sitting on the bed alone, wearing nothing but her underwear.

"What the hell," she murmurs under her breath. It was what she wanted, but she isn't happy at all.

•    •    •

For the next couple of days, it's like nothing happened at all. He gives no explanation for his odd behaviour, and she doesn't ask. She can't help but feel a little disappointed, though, but she'd never dare to voice her thoughts in his presence—she doesn't need him to know she liked the time they spent on his bed a little too much.

One more day goes by, and then it's time for her to meet with Ezra.

She's nervous. If this meeting goes wrong, she'll be alone. She'll have Harry, but no means to turn the tide in her favour. If it goes wrong, her work will become much, much harder—and she'll have to watch out for the Revolution as well, other than the Palace guards.

She doesn't want the Revolution to become one of her enemies—not when it's the home she dreams of going back to, after she'll be done with all of this. She promised Amina a better world, she can't go back to her without having at least taken some steps in the right direction.

She's scared. She's tried her best to act tough until now, but she can already feel everything slip from her grasp. There are too many variables, too many things that could go wrong, and she cannot control them all.

Despite having spent the last few days thinking about a way to fix it, she ends up leaving the apartment without locking the door. After all, considering how easily Harry broke the lock, if he'd truly wanted to leave, he would've already done it. She can only hope she's right.

The walk to the car park takes a little longer than usual, because she tries her best to make sure she isn't being followed, and then takes well over seven minutes to go around the building to make sure there are no cars or any other sign that would tell her there are more people at the meeting than there should be.

As soon as she steps inside, she spots a couple of men waiting in the office near the entrance. They don't seem to notice her, and she takes advantage of their distraction to block the door with a broom. She lets out a scoff.

So much for not bringing other people to their meeting.

She keeps an eye out for more members of the Revolution as she walks up, but the next floor is completely empty. Still, she's a little uneasy. She can't believe that Ezra only chose to bring those two—since he's already broken the rules, she doubts he would settle for such a low number.

She should leave and tell him to meet her on another day, following her rules this time around. But he'd never accept. If she wants to talk to him face to face, this is her only chance. If she leaves now, she can say goodbye to everything.

She's come too far to back down now.

Alouette peeks around the corner. Eery single parking spot is empty, which allows her to see the man standing in the middle of the large room perfectly. There seems to be nobody else, but she knows the Revolution. There has to be a trick.

Unfortunately, she has no other chance. She'll have to be smarter than them.

One step at a time, she reminds herself, and then she walks out of her hiding spot.

Ezra turns to look at her in the second the sound of her steps echoes through the parking garage. "I didn't think you'd show," he comments.

Alouette tilts her head, studying him. His face seems to be tenser, even though he's trying to hide it. It must've been tough for the Revolution in the past few months. She must've made them go mad with all her crazy requests.

"Of course I came, I asked for this meeting," she replies. Her voice sounds clearer, less afraid. The last time she stood in front of him, she was trembling at the thought of having to go to the Palace. But she isn't that person anymore. She wonders if he's already realised that. "I didn't think you would come, actually."

"How could I not, when you called me with such an interesting proposition?" he lets out a sharp laugh. "A collaboration with the Revolution? Now that's something I've never heard before."

"It surprises me to know you think that," Alouette replies. "You seemed not to like it when I called you."

"I'd say a little suspicion is the best way to go, especially when one of my agents has been in the enemy's hands for so long."

"Only some months." She takes a step forward, feeling the weight of her gun hidden at her side. It soothes her nerves a little bit. If she wants to win, she has to be strong. She has to show him she has no intention of backing down.

"Some months too many." There's a threatening edge in his voice, that disappears right after. "Let's not waste any more time, though. I want to be back home by midnight. Tell me what you want."

"I want the Revolution to work with me."

Ezra's face doesn't show any emotion. "How so?"

Alouette clears her throat. This is the moment she's been preparing for. "I understand your reasoning to get rid of Mr. Styles, but I firmly believe it would be a bad call."

"And why's that?" He says, raising an eyebrow. It's clear that he doesn't truly believe in what she's telling him, and it frustrates her a thousand times more.

"Because the Palace will never listen to us, and without the Palace, we will be completely powerless."

Ezra makes a face. Alouette clenches her fists, annoyed.

"The Palace is like the Revolution," she spits. That sentence is enough to make Ezra's mouth fall open. "It has a leader, but it isn't too dependent on them," she continues. "It's an organization in which everyone has a place and a job to do. If you think that killing Mr. Styles will make it fall, you are wrong. Not only it's extremely faithful to him, which means that getting rid of him would be like signing your own death sentence, but it's also autonomous. If you kill their leader, they'll just elect a new one, and then we will back to the start."

"So you're suggesting we keep him alive, after all the terrible things he's done?" She can sense the hateful edge in his words. "He deserves to die, Alouette."

"If he dies, he'll take us all down with him. Right now, we have the advantage. We have Harry, and the Palace knows that. The Palace only follows Harry's orders, so whoever has Harry has the power to control the country."

"Collaborations are pointless!" Ezra shouts. "He killed one of our own—"

"Not a collaboration," Alouette specifies. "We can get him to do what we want..."

"He'll never accept that!"

"He'll have to, as long as we have him!" Alouette bites back. "You can bargain with anyone. The President is no different."

Ezra takes a ferocious step forward. "So you're suggesting I bring a wolf into my organization?"

She doesn't reply, and he seethes.

"You know what's your problem, Alouette? I like you, but you're just like your father," he hisses. "A dreamer! You're clueless, which is why you'd never make a good leader!"

The sound of steps comes from behind her and she turns around, freezing when she discover she was surrounded by men of the Revolution. She can't recognise any of them, but part of her is glad that Elijah isn't among them. She doesn't think she'd be able to take it.

"Thankfully, I came with a better plan," Ezra says. "How about we capture you right now and then we hunt the President now and get rid of him ourselves? We know he's here, now. It won't take long to discover where you hid him."

Alouette's heart drops, but she doesn't let it show. She can't let him win, not like this. She has to play her cards right.

Thankfully, if there's something the Revolution has taught her, it's how to lie. And thanks to them, now she knows how to do it really well.

"You could do that," she gives in. She makes no sudden move, no warning sign that would bring the men behind her to pull out their weapons. For once, she isn't upset about being underestimated. "But you'll have to find him in the next sixty-three minutes." She gives Ezra a dark little smile. "I expected you not to keep your word, so I left the door unlocked. If I'm not back in an hour, he will escape. That would be a real disaster for everyone, wouldn't it? If he moves fast, he could be back to the Palace by tomorrow, and then you'll be done for."

"You're lying," Ezra spits, but the panic in his eyes is unmistakable.

"It's sixty-two, now."

"This doesn't make any sense."

Alouette nods. "You're right, it doesn't. Unless I've already found a way to make him do what I want. It turns out an hour of his time isn't that expensive."

Ezra pales. "Have you?"

"Have I?" she gives him an innocent little smile. "It's sixty-one, now. If you want to find him, you'd better work fast."

Ezra looks disconcerted, and the men behind her seem not to know what to do.

She takes advantage of the moment to dash to the other exit of the parking garage. There are men in front of it as well, but their delay in pulling out their firearms gives her enough time to run past them. She knows she only has her name to thank for that. If she'd been someone else, they would've shot her in the instant she'd made a move. But it's clear that they don't feel comfortable pointing their weapons at her, not yet, at least.

When the first gunshots ring out, she's already running through the street of Pans.

She shakes off some members of the Revolution that came after her and goes back to the apartment as fast as possible.

They need to leave—it's too risky to stay in the city now that Ezra knows they're there as well. If she wants to save Harry, she has to find a new hiding place, somewhere he won't be able to find them.

Alouette enters the building and runs up the stairs. She pushes the door open and steps inside.

"I'm back," she announces. "Harry?" She steps further down the corridor, pulling out her firearm just in case when he doesn't reply immediately.

A sound comes from the kitchen, but before she can make a move something hard digs into her back.

"Drop the gun," a voice says, one she knows way too well.

She's screwed.