Lilly woke to the taste of blood and ash on her tongue. The air was thick with heat and screaming silence. Her ribs ached. Her skull throbbed. Somewhere above her, Sam's voice filtered through the ringing in her ears, soft and scared—like it didn't know how to be anything else right now.
"Lilly—come on, baby, stay with me…"
Her lashes fluttered.
Sam was crouched over her, one hand on her cheek, the other gripping the scorched breaker panel like it was their last lifeline. Her shirt was torn, streaked with soot and blood that might not even be hers.
"Wha… what happened?"
"The bomb went off," Sam said, breathless. "We barely made it out. You were out cold. I—" She swallowed. "I dragged you through half the tunnel. Ava's gone."
Of course she was.
But then—
A low, deliberate clap echoed off the smoking tunnel walls.
Clap....
Clap...
Clap...
Lilly tensed.
Sam turned, instinctively shifting to shield Lilly's body with her own. Her grip on her pistol was tight, finger twitching just off the trigger.
And there—stepping from the smoke like a ghost carved from bone and silk—was her.
The woman in white again.
The same one who haunted the last op like a bloodstain in memory. Skin pale, eyes like razors dipped in honey, and that same maddening smile like she already knew the end of the story.
"Well, well, well," she purred. "Didn't think I'd let you off that easy, did you, little wolf?"
Lilly sat up, wincing, blood soaking through the bandages Sam had only just tied. Her jaw clenched.
"You."
The woman's gaze flicked to Sam. "You look tired, sweetheart. Don't worry—I'm not here for you. Not yet."
Sam didn't flinch. "Say what you came to say, or I'll blow your teeth out."
That earned a smirk. "I like her, Lilly. She's got bite. Shame it won't be enough."
She stepped closer, unbothered by the danger, heels clicking like gunshots against cracked concrete.
"I have unfinished business with you, Lillian Grace. You left something behind in Havana. Or maybe you just forgot. But me?" Her smile sharpened. "I never forget. And now the game's changed."
Lilly forced herself to her feet, staggering but standing. "You want a rematch, bitch? Try me."
But the woman's voice dropped lower, silkier, almost tender.
"Oh, no, darling. Not a rematch. A reckoning."
And with that, she tossed something at their feet—a torn photograph, burned around the edges. It showed three people.
Lilly. Ava. And the woman in white.
Lilly's stomach dropped. Sam picked up the photo with a shaking hand, her eyes flicking from the image to Lilly's face.
"What is this?"
The woman leaned in, whispering as she turned to leave—
"Ask her what she did.Ask her why the bodies were never found."
Then she vanished into smoke, like a promise wrapped in violence.
Lilly stood frozen, breath shallow. Sam didn't speak. Just held the photo like it was a weapon.
The storm had arrived.
And it had names.