Chapter 2Partners, Not Wives

That night, alone in my quarters, the reality of my rebirth still felt like a fever dream.

A soft knock pulled me from my thoughts. I cracked the door to find Arthur standing in the dim hallway, holding a greasy paper bag of street skewers and a six-pack of imported beer.

"I don't drink before a deployment," I said, raising an eyebrow at him.

He stepped past me, making himself at home on my worn sofa. "I know. That's why I'm drinking the beer, and you're eating the meat."

A genuine laugh punched its way out of my chest.

He drank in silence. I ate in silence. It was a comfortable rhythm we had built over the years. Finally, the question burning in my throat had to come out.

"Why did you do it?"

He knew exactly what I was asking. He took a slow pull from his bottle and smirked. "I was shipping you two. Thought I’d give fate a nudge."

I rolled my eyes so hard they hurt, but the chaotic storm in my chest finally settled into a quiet calm.

The next morning, the sun hadn't even crested the horizon when a fist hammered against my door.

I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and undid the latch. Gideon shoved the door open, practically vibrating with rage.

His eyes were bloodshot. The corners of his eyes, usually sharp and calculating, were tight with fury. Before a mission, he always drew a small scorpion motif near his temple—the mark that earned him his lethal reputation in the underworld. His skin was bare today, but his glare was venomous enough to kill.

"Raven, you are absolute garbage."

He backed me against the wall. "Why the hell did you conspire with the Director to rig the draw?"

His hands flew up, his fingers digging into my shoulders, shaking me. "I actually thought... I thought it was just the luck of the draw. Destiny."

His thumbs pressed dangerously close to my windpipe. I clawed at his wrists, my voice tight. "Gideon, back off! You're hurting me!"

"You feel pain?" he spat, his face inches from mine. "Do you think Ruby wouldn't feel pain? Do you think getting tortured to death on an undercover op wouldn't hurt?"

He was panting, his chest heaving. "You have no idea what happened last time—" He abruptly cut himself off, his jaw snapping shut as if he had almost spilled a state secret.

When he looked at me again, the fury had melted into absolute, crushing disappointment. "Why are you so hellbent on tearing us apart? Why do you insist on sending Ruby to her death?"

His grip tightened, cutting off my air. Initially, I hadn't braced for combat, but the lack of oxygen flipped my training switch. I twisted my hips, grabbed his elbow, and threw my weight forward.

In the cramped space of my quarters, the fight was brutal and fast.

"Are you out of your mind?!" I yelled, pinning his arm against the drywall. "The assignment comes from Command! We don't write the script!"

His eyes were feral. "You're lying! Both sticks were long! Ruby told me she drew the long one to go deep cover. We all know you and Arthur played us!"

I knew exactly where his old injuries were. I pressed my knee into the nerve cluster on his thigh, forcing him down.

"I'll say it one last time," I hissed in his ear. "Command makes the calls. As for what you really want... I'm sure Command will accommodate your happily ever after."

He let out a broken, cynical laugh. "What I want... I can never have it again. Because of you."

I held him until the fight completely drained out of his muscles. When I finally stepped back, he dropped to his knees, his fists slamming into the floorboards.

Seconds later, he stood up. The emotional wreckage was gone, replaced by the glacial, untouchable captain I knew so well. It was as if his total breakdown hadn't just happened.

He threw a muttered "My mistake" over his shoulder and walked out. I didn't say a word.

Only Ruby could make him lose his mind like that.

In our previous life, while playing the perfect married couple, Gideon had been dosed with a highly potent neural-stimulant by an enemy target. To maintain our cover and save his life, I gave myself to him. Even in bed, he was a statue of military discipline, his face carved from stone. There was no passion. No heat.

When the drug wore off, he buttoned his shirt without looking at me and said, "I'll take responsibility for this."

After Ruby died and the mission imploded, we never bothered to file the divorce papers. We just existed in the same airspace. But from that day on, he treated me like a stranger carrying a disease.

We went from being the team's most lethal, synchronized weapon to a hollow couple who only communicated in nods.

I thought taking the bullet for this undercover op would preserve our professional respect. Clearly, I was wrong. The cracks were already showing.

But maybe this was for the best. If Silas put a bullet in my brain, Gideon wouldn't lose any sleep over it.