"Nathaniel? Mon amour?" The melodious voice sounds like a dream in the deafening chaos of Nate's mind, a glimmer of light he can never touch in all this darkness, and yet, soft fingers are reaching for him, the delicate brushes on his hand pulling him out of his thoughts and reminding him this is reality, no matter how fragile it can be.

"'Mon amour'?" He lifts an eyebrow, a smile instantly following and relaxing his tensed features when he meets Anastasia's eyes, staring at him from under her lashes.

"Yes, it means–"

"I know what it means, my love," he echoes, grabbing her waist and pulling her closer between his legs.

Sitting on the cold hard floor has never appeared so comfortable, although it mostly has to do with the feeling of her warm and soft body against his strained muscles and the cold dread in his blood. He's savoring every inch of it, while his arms are instinctively wrapping tighter around her, and he buries his head in the crook of her neck to let her soothing presence invade all his senses, yet also to avoid her piercing gaze observing him too attentively.

"And I really like this new nickname... Say it again, s'il te plait..." The French words wrapped in his thick accent and soft murmur are dangerously powerful as they vibrate against her skin, creating goosebumps all the way to her chest, and they travel even lower when he starts leaving slow kisses over every inch of skin her uniform doesn't cover.

Just a few touches, and he has her melting in his arms. Actually, just his raspy voice is enough to turn her blood into a dizzying fusing, and something tells her he knows exactly what he is doing as he nibbles on her earlobe.

"My angel..."

"Are you trying to distract me, mon amour?" she asks breathlessly, leaning away before she forgets why they are here for.

"No, I wouldn't." He's just trying to distract himself. "I know we still have a lot of work." His gaze trails around as he forces himself to let her go.

Their plan is still up. He can't give up now.

But Anastasia surprises him, staying close and sliding her hands up to cup his cheeks.

"You're distracting me," she states, diving her gaze into his, the way only she knows to attract him like a magnet so he can't look away. "I was calling you because you seemed somewhere else... worried..." Her thumbs brush softly over the dark circles under his eyes, making him lean into her touch, and drawing out a shaky sigh, as easily as the words could come out.

The confession is right there, on the edge of his open lips, but he bites down on his lower lip, keeping the words inside, as painful as it is. He can't let those words escape and torture her too. He can't let anything get to these pure eyes. 'The eyes are the windows to the soul', he's read it in some book yesterday, and her eyes are the most beautiful he's ever seen.

"Is everything okay?"

"No– I mean, yes... I'm fine, just stressed about everything..." It isn't really a lie. He can never lie in front of her piercing lawyer gaze. Yet hiding a part of the truth is already constricting his ribcage, making the real reason for his worried state more oppressive.

He is alone to fight it. He has no one to even help him clear his clouded mind because there are only two people in the world he trusts. Darrell could maybe offer him some advice or a hand, but he's unreachable during his special mission, and the other person... The other person is standing in front of him, her attentive frown waiting for him to talk.

"I'm worried that maybe Hadi is right... What if it isn't enough to convince people? And the horrors of the government... they have to be revealed." He sighs, letting out what he can, and what has actually worried him all night, before an even more threatening problem has taken the forefront of his concerns.

Since this morning, the note is the only matter he's thinking about, and while Anastasia has been getting lost in various works of art, he's been drifting in his own mind, which is surely the reason why Anastasia has called his attention, noticing his lost stare in front of an upside-down book.

Nevertheless, it hasn't been for nothing, and despite the spinning questions that have got him nowhere, he has concluded a few things.

First, there's still hope, as tiny as it is, because whoever wants to 'meet' him knows about one of his crimes, yet he's still standing here, so they haven't denounced him. Why? He isn't sure yet, but he has an argument against blackmailing.

Secondly, the 'you' could be only himself, as Anastasia hasn't received any threat and isn't mentioned. Thus, maybe he can still protect her, and it's for this reason that he can't tell her, as she would surely give him great advice, yet she would also stand with him, and he can't risk her life. Although she will be mad if she finds out, it's a battle he has to face alone.

"He isn't right." Her soft voice once again calls him out of his thoughts, this time, her tone holding so much determination that he can hear she's trying to convince herself too. "It will work. Look, he said it was impossible to break through the government's media, but Andy told me an algorithm could be worked from the encoding he knows." She offers him a small smile, her gaze avoiding his exactly like he's been dodging hers for the past minutes, and it's his turn to cup one of her cheeks, making her lift her gaze and smoothing her frown as soon as he meets her eyes.

"You look worried too."

"I'm not worried..." The trail of her voice tells him the contrary, and even if it may be hypocritical, he wants her to reveal him her darker torments, so he can soothe her. "I really believe this plan can work, but... I feel like I'm involving everyone I care about. First, I forced you, and now, Andy, I–"

"What?! No!" he immediately protests, his own worries forgotten, or more exactly blown by the sincere look of guilt and concern in her eyes. "You didn't force me. I'm doing this for us."

"But you wouldn't do it without me, risking your life and–"

"Without you?! If I'd never met you, I would still be this coward, lying to everyone even himself, unhappy and... incomplete." Those words are truer than ever, and maybe, he's still lying, but his intentions are true; his feelings are true. "Besides, you told me Andy asked you to join?" he adds to dissipate the last faint crease remaining between her eyebrows.

"Yes, but he wouldn't have asked if I hadn't needed his help for my test... I just wish I could be able to fight without involving everyone..."

"You're not 'involving'. You're inspiring." His gaze dives into hers, the same way as all these times he has made her believe in herself, though today, the light illuminating the tenebrous shades is even more dazzling. "You're talented to convince people to do the right things, to defend great causes, and you're a great leader. You are strong and inspiring."

He is really talented too, with his words, as each one is pumping more blood to her cheeks, yet also more faith throughout her body, and more love for him in all her being. Her heart doesn't even know which direction to follow, soaring and threatening to escape her ribcage.

"Thank you for believing in me," she breathes out, once again, not finding words to match his beautiful ones and translate the powerful bangs of her heart.

So she shows him, crashing her lips on his with all her love, passion, and faith, and he instantly returns it with something more: despair. It is in his lips caressing hers slowly yet passionately, in his tongue trying to savor her, in his hands gripping every inch of skin he can to bring her closer, and in his erratic heart rate she can feel under her palm. It is like he is relishing every part of her and at the same time, taking as much as he can while he can.

Every touch he has offered her today has been like this in fact. It may be faint, but she has noticed it from his greeting kiss to the hold of his hand, and to every moment he has tried to stay as close as possible. It has set a bad feeling deeper in her guts, and even this passionate kiss overwhelming her with love and something hotter in her veins isn't enough to dissipate it completely.

This impression comes back even stronger when they pull apart, and his tenebrous gaze is traveling all over her face as if to keep the most accurate picture of this moment.

"I love you so much, my angel."

"I love you even more, mon amour. And together, nothing is impossible." She offers him a confident smile, repeating his words from two days ago to clear his torments, when she herself is battling with the shadows of what-ifs, and her gaze trails down to the shine of their magnetized pendants.

There is something almost magical about these two different pieces of metal coming together and creating an invisible yet powerful field around them, and when they are linked between their beating hearts, it becomes a tangible proof that together they are stronger than any forces opposing them, figuratively and literally.

"That's it!" she exclaims as her heart and her brain light up at the same time, Nathaniel's eyes growing as wide as her smile. "Give me your necklace. I know how we can open the strongroom!"

"What?" In spite of the question, he still complies, undoing his necklace, and in spite of the sensation of a missing part over his chest, he gives it to her, the warmth of her fingers lacing with his quickly erasing the uneasy shivers as she leads him to the heavy door they've thrown too many glances at.

"You said it looked like a mechanic lock with a code, right?

"Yeah, it's independent, and there's nothing electronic because I think they know how good the rebels are at hacking," he explains, his eyes following carefully her movements as she stops in front of the door and turns to him with a determined look he's got to know by heart.

"I'm not sure, but Molly taught me a few tricks to open various locks, so we could try to create a magnetic field with our necklaces and 'disturb' the lock."

"Yeah! If we force it a little, it might open." A smile slowly stretches his lips at the idea that could really work, but mostly, at the woman who will never cease to amaze him. "Tell me when you feel the lock move, and I'll force it," he tells her, waiting for her signal with his eyes solely on her, although they've already been glued to her before.

She's attracting all his attention like a magnet, and watching her slender fingers fiddling with the two compasses and the crease between her eyebrows deepening, he finds more strength and determination to, he, too, not give up. If even a steel door can't resist her, there's no way he can let a threat get to them.

"Now." She pulls him out of his thoughts, and he uses all his strength to force the lock.

It doesn't work on the first try, neither on the ten, fifty, and maybe more after. But her frown doesn't falter, her fingers moving the necklaces around in every angle possible, and he doesn't slacken his efforts either, his heart thumping faster to provide more energy to his muscles.

The stakes are high; they're both aware of it despite the quietness in the air, and each of their heartbeats is there to remind them louder of the time ticking. It's long and precious minutes they're wasting. They won't have more to gather all these works of art, yet they also will never have another opportunity like this.

That's why they both let out the biggest breaths of relief when the lock gives in, their next intake of air still halting for another moment of silence as they make sure there is no other obstacle or even an alarm on their way, and then, Anastasia jumps at his neck.

Only at the sound of her relieved laugh, does he feel the adrenaline and victory surging through his body.

"You're amazing!"

"We did it together!" She smiles, crashing her lips on his for a quick kiss that intensifies the rush in his veins.

However, they too soon have to come back to reality, and when he puts her down, it's something else invading his blood at the sight of the long strongroom, which is bigger than they've imagined. Of course, there are lots of files to archive, to hide. Just putting a step inside is uncovering what he, himself, has tried to lock inside his mind, and he's conscious that it's just a glimpse of what they're about to discover in this room.

"You don't have to–"

"Together." She joins him, and her unwavering determination would probably warm his chest under any other circumstances, yet now, his blood is freezing as he's leading her each time closer to hell.

They're stepping together inside this strongroom, and his haunting fears are already leading him to the thought of how easily they could end up as just another secret file here, together.

She intertwines her fingers with his to give him strength as much as to gather some for herself, when none of them is ready to face what is inside all the boxes.

The silence around is deadly, and the paleness of Nathaniel's face, highlighted by the white and inhuman lighting, is what scares her the most. If even her strong hero is struggling in front of this, how is she supposed to handle it? One thing is sure, they can't back down now, and it will be another life-changing moment that she will never erase from her memory. But as long as she is with Nathaniel, she will be fine.

"Together," she repeats in a murmur.

***

Alone, Nate has thrown enough careful glances around and taken many cautious detours to be sure he's alone.

His fingers are tickling with a lost feeling as he can still sense Anastasia's soft skin in the emptiness between them, and his heart is racing like trying to run and join her. Yet he is alone, and in the shadows of the night falling on the army headquarters, it's better this way... Him, the faint thuds of his too-slow footsteps on the concrete, and both his fists tight around his strong points, which are giving him more assurance than his trained muscles crippled with fears.

His compass pendant, that's what is always giving him so much strength, and now that Anastasia has given it back to him, it holds even more meaning. It doesn't only indicate the direction of his heart, but also how far they've traveled together, Anastasia and him.

He still can't believe she has managed to open the strongroom and uncover the government's darkest secrets. Not even an unfailing system can resist the tornado Anastasia, and they now have powerful weapons to fight and make their plan work. It's one more reason to not yield tonight.

Yet even if each name they've read are deserving justice and giving him more purpose, they're also fueling the dread inside, making each horrendous scenario more realistic, and that's why he tightens his grip on his other asset inside his right pocket.

Anastasia isn't the only one who doesn't give up and can come up with a plan. His may not be as brilliant as hers, but in spite of all the what-ifs consuming more and more his mind, he's thought things through a thousand times, and it's the only plan that has emerged.

The only other thing he's managed to form is a plea... in case... although he can't consider it at this moment, because he's too well aware that it would be useless. The argument that he has forced Anastasia – whether they would be caught in the act, literally, or for his recent archives plan – has always been there in a dark corner of his mind, but with everything they've discovered, he knows, now better than ever, that it doesn't change a judge's sentence. So he'll do everything to prevent Anastasia from ever going back in a court.

He arrives at the 'meeting' place on that thought, letting it linger in the cold air like a reminder of everything hanging over his shoulders, when all his muscles are tensing painfully, and yet it's just starting...

His gaze instantly spots the figure waiting for him on the other side of the alley, a man in an outfit that he recognizes easily, even from the back, because he's wearing the same: a sweater in the army colors. He isn't surprised. Knowing where he's found the threat, there haven't been many more possibilities, but it remains to be seen which of his colleagues it is, and with each step he takes closer, the suppositions are flashing faster in his head.

Even so, he doesn't let his guard down, making sure the man is alone, at least for now. His muscles are ready to fight an army, and his senses are scanning the surroundings like a war zone. Yet each loud beat of his heart is threatening to break his shield, and it cracks indeed, when the man notices Nate's presence and turns around.

His whole facade crumbles down for a second, as he's taken aback by the sight that is nothing like he's imagined.

The man looks more nervous than him, more distraught, more... basically, in a worse state than Nate. His black hair is disheveled, and his fingers are fiddling anxiously together. The dark circles under his eyes are standing out even on his chocolate skin, and his squint at the light coming from the street lamp are typical of a harsh hangover.

Nate notes carefully these details, as well as the fact that his stature is less muscular than his, and he recognizes him as a newbie, whom he might even have trained a few times.

However, Nate doesn't even let out a sigh of relief, rebuilding his shield stronger and puffing his chest up. It all could be a bluffing strategy.

"You wanted to 'meet' me?"

His mouth is drier than he would want to, although the man – Nate remembers his name might be Sam, Stephan, or something like that, but his brain is too clouded to think – doesn't seem to notice. His wide eyes are too busy glancing everywhere before he finally meets Nate's gaze, swallowing hard, exactly like Nate has done when he's glimpsed his figure from afar.

"Um, yes, Captain Johnson." The guy clears his throat, which apparently is as dry as Nate's, even though Nate is more trained to hide it. "You got my note, so I think you know."

"It's you who wrote it?" In spite of the quietness around, Nate is very well aware that this man could be sent by someone else. But then, why use someone who looks so nervous?

He's even more lost than before, and in moments like this, he wishes he could have Anastasia's perspicacity and her lawyer gaze always piercing the truth.

"Yes, I know what you're doing." The man straightens up, as if his words weren't enough to give him the upper hand.

"What do you know?" It's the question that has seared Nate all day, and the thought of the answer is what is freezing him. His voice is so low that he barely recognizes it, but he has no doubt the guy has heard him as he throws another cautious look around, which Nate follows like it could give him an answer faster.

Yet it only provides him more questions. Is he waiting for someone? An arrest team? Or is he just scared to be heard? After all, if he knows what Nate is doing and hasn't denounced him, it makes him an accomplice of the crimes. So why is he risking it?

"I know you're having an affair with another woman than your wife, and I know you're planning something with the rebels."

All questions are forgotten. Nate has got the answer he's feared the most, and the words out loud, even if just whispered, are echoing with a deadly echo in the silence of the night.

His shield is shattered, and the attack has been perfectly aimed at his heart; that's surely why he's suffocating, an excruciating pain spreading from there to his guts and everywhere until the tip of his fingers.

"How do you know?" It isn't the most important right now, but the nightmarish visions are too thick for him to think clearly.

"I saw you last night at the Susurro Lake."

"It's a private property and it's two hours away?" Once again, another useless argument, though he's more talking to himself, and maybe his brain is getting back on its wheels, stalling for time.

"That's where I lived before joining the army, and there's never anyone in that property, so it's a nice place to be alone."

"But it's private." 

The man lifts an eyebrow, his gaze traveling from right to left before setting on Nate to remind him that if they're talking about breaches of the law, it isn't the worst crime here.

Nate is indeed reacting stupidly. But stupidly is what happens when the two emotions consuming him are combined: despair and anger. Both are blinding: his despair and the dark clouds of threats hovering above him, and his anger against himself for being so careless. Just one night has been enough, one second...

He's asked Anastasia to not go back to the Photography club because it's risky with the army spying, and he's led her closer to hell.

However, a flash of clarity resembling a glimmer of hope lights up on that dark thought. The man hasn't mentioned her name, and he probably doesn't know her. It's enough to slightly clear Nate's mind, and he becomes aware of how tightly he's gripping his pendant, the metal becoming almost blazing hot, yet he doesn't loosen his hold, while he focuses on what's inside his other hand.

"Okay, how much do you want?"

"What?" The young man furrows his eyebrows before they shoot up his forehead when Nate pulls his 'argument' out of his pocket, realization crossing his wide eyes. "No! I don't want your money."

The assertiveness in his voice freezes Nate from his hands to his chest, and the strength is leaving him from these two points as he finds himself in the same state as this morning, lost and paralyzed, except that he doesn't have questions.

He has the answers he's dreaded, all forming a labyrinth always leading him to the same dead end, and this dead end is Anastasia's and his future, together. He's staring at the man in front of him the same way he's done it with his note, and he can't decipher him more. There's a familiar determination in his eyes, but Nate can't pinpoint what it is exactly.

Everyone has a motivation, a reason. He wouldn't have written this threat just to turn them in after, would he? Nate has been so sure of his argument. It's what he's learned, what he's witnessed throughout his life: money is the most common motivation, the first reason for most people. But this man has just dismantled all his built-up defense.

Now, there's only one possibility left. A good offense is sometimes the best defense... He doesn't like the idea of using the same heartless techniques as the government, yet he's already thought of this eventuality, and to protect Anastasia, he's willing to do anything.

"I want to help."

His fist is frozen before even moving out of his pocket, and his narrowed gaze, ready to analyze his opponent's moves, is turning into a wide stare upon those words. Could his clouded mind be tricking him? No, it's too dark to imagine something like a beacon of hope.

"I want to join the rebels and help you fight," the guy repeats a little louder, confirming Nate's thoughts.

"Why?" This is definitely the only scenario Nate hasn't considered, and he still can't decide if it's good or bad news.

"I have my reasons." The man lifts his chin, although he still averts his gaze under Nate's piercing one.

"Listen... um?"

"Sacha."

Sacha, a second-class soldier, Nate remembers him now. He's had trouble with unarmed combat, but he's really good with agility and hiding, which could be useful.

"Listen, Sacha, if you want to join the rebels, you better give your reason and be honest."

He knows for a fact that the rebels wouldn't accept someone without having a good reason, motivation – that is, if Nate would even let him walk out without being sure he isn't lying, and Sacha might be realizing this as he gulps, the anxious sound echoing in the quietness around.

The silence is becoming heavier with each second, the hovering stakes more oppressive than the narrow walls of an interrogation room, but Nate does nothing to lighten the atmosphere, as it's the perfect way to pierce through Sacha's facade and read his thoughts. He can already notice the signs of his nervousness getting louder, and his dilemma is slowly peeking through his eyes with each restless glance he's throwing around.

"My best friend has been matched," Sacha lets out with a defeated sigh, his gaze at last settling on Nate's, and the latter recognizes the look there. "She announced it to me last night. This corner of the Susurro Lake is our secret place, where we always go because there's never anyone."

Secret place, those words are familiar to Nate... and his heart is already thumping louder as if trying to be heard, finally finding someone who may understand.

"When she left, I stayed behind. I was kinda desperate... and that's when I saw you. I thought it was a sign."

Love. Money might be the number one motivation, but love is the most powerful. Sacha hasn't said the word, yet it's written between the despair and determination in his eyes. Nate knows too much with this duality. It's the same that makes him fight for it and leaves him paralyzed with fears at the same time, and he can feel both, the dark clouds of what-ifs and the glimmer of hope returning slowly to him, as he asks,

"So you're not planning on denouncing us?"

"No, of course not." Sasha shakes his head, his eyes widening like he's realizing just right now that his note could have appeared like a threat. "I just want to help with your plan about the pieces of art and love... Yes, I kinda eavesdropped..."

He definitely isn't good at defending his case, and the awkward wince he's offering as Nate's eyebrows are lifting isn't helping, though at least, he's being honest.

"But I didn't hear everything because I was kinda drunk."

'Kinda', Nate doesn't raise, offering Sacha a knowing nod, as he's been through those 'kinda' hard moments too.

"If it can work to stop this unfair application, then I want to help."

"You're conscious of the risks if you join?" Nate doesn't need to clarify. Every soldier knows about 'hell'. One meaningful look is enough to call back what they aren't allowed to talk about.

"Yes, I've thought enough about it. Almost all my life I've prayed that Ter– my best friend and I would be matched, and I don't wanna spend my life with anyone else. I'm sure."

"Okay," Nate announces, yet he still takes a threatening step closer, catching Sacha off guard and cornering him against the wall, and he gathers all the haunting shadows from hell and dark what-ifs when he adds lowly, "But if you ever try to trick me or think about denouncing us, I'll make sure to kill you before even going down."

He won't drop his guard for a second from now on, and only once Sacha has nodded quickly, does he step back, letting the threat linger as much as the fear in his colleague's large eyes.

That's the aim: be dreaded, even though Nate will always be the most terrified inside. He doesn't know if he'll ever be able to breathe without having to hold it back each second. Maybe one day... if their plan works.

"By the way, sorry if I made you think my note was a threat," Sacha adds with a bashful smile, peering up at Nate like to make sure he won't carry out his own menace, which he's made really clear.

"That's okay." Nate breathes out a sigh, allowing some tension to get out with it. "But you still have to prove that I can trust you." Only some of his tensions because Nate is still in full defensive mode, making Sacha swallow harshly.

"Okay, what do you want me to do?"

"Meet me tomorrow morning in front of the general Perry's office. It's too late to do anything tonight."

It takes everything Nate has in him to leave with so much uncertainty. But he has a feeling in his guts, or maybe his heart, that he can trust Sacha, and with this test, he will also check the other foreboding knotting his guts.

"Good night, and don't forget what I said," he adds, not letting show any of his doubts through his strong shield.

Did you expect this? It looks like they have a new ally! What do you think of Sacha so far? Can we trust him? And what will be Nate's test for him? 😈🤔

Also, what do you think of the tornado Anastasia opening the secret strongroom? She's so strong! We love strong and inspiring badass women here! And Nate too 😉😍

Let me know in the comments what you think of this chapter, and vote ⭐ if you liked it!!

Like always, your comments and feedbacks are my best motivation, and even if I'm more tired these days, writing this story always gives me hope and energy 😘🌞❤

PS: For those who needs it, the French lesson of today is: S'il te plait = please, and Mon amour = my love 🤓😘