"Translate this, and I'll hand you ten million dollars." Dominic Russo laughed as he slammed a battered leather journal onto the table, convinced no one alive could read it. Seconds later, I quietly read a single sentence from its pages, and every voice in the room disappeared. In that instant, everyone realized the journal wasn't the most dangerous thing in the room—I was.

Three Weeks Later

The sun rose gloriously over Manhattan, casting a warm, golden glow across the floor-to-ceiling windows of the Russo Tower penthouse.

The Vanguard was no more.

Using the decrypted files from The Tsar’s Lexicon and the ledgers I had spent three weeks translating, federal prosecutors—backed secretly by Dominic’s political allies—had executed the largest intelligence bust in American history. Dozens of corrupt politicians, rogue weapons brokers, and dirty executives were currently sitting in federal holding cells awaiting trial.

My father’s name had been completely cleared. Columbia University had officially reinstated his academic tenure posthumously, establishing the Dr. Julian Linwood Chair of Ancient Linguistics—endowed by a anonymous ten-million-dollar donation from the Russo Estate.

I stood on the balcony, wearing a soft silk robe, sipping green tea, watching the city below.

The glass door slid open quietly.

Dominic walked out onto the balcony. He wore a simple white linen shirt and dark trousers, looking relaxed, peaceful, and impossibly handsome in the morning light.

He walked up behind me, wrapping his broad arms around my waist, pulling my back against his chest. I leaned back into his warm, solid frame, resting my head against his shoulder.

"You look deep in thought," Dominic murmured, pressing a soft kiss against my temple.

"I was thinking about the deal we made," I said softly, turning in his arms to face him, my hands resting against his chest.

Dominic’s expression went slightly still. "The third condition?"

"Yes," I said, looking into his mesmerizing steel-gray eyes. "You promised that when this was over... you would let me go."

Dominic looked down at me for a long, silent moment. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small black leather passport holder and an open-ended first-class plane ticket to Paris. He held them out toward me.

"Your debt is paid, Maya," Dominic said, his voice dropping into a low, quiet register that carried a hint of raw vulnerability he rarely showed the world. "Your father’s name is clean. You have ten million dollars in your account. You can go anywhere in the world. You are completely free."

I looked at the plane ticket. Then I looked at the man who had protected me, avenged my father, and treated my mind as the most precious treasure in the world.

I took the ticket from his hand... and tore it straight down the middle.

Dominic’s eyes widened in genuine shock. "Maya..."

"I spent my whole life running, Dominic," I said, stepping closer, reaching up to wrap my hands around his neck. "Hiding in shadows, pretending to be invisible so no one would hurt me. But with you... I don't want to hide anymore."

A slow, radiant, devastatingly beautiful smile broke across Dominic’s face.

"You do realize what staying with me means, don't you?" he whispered, his hands dropping to my hips, pulling me tight against him. "You won't just be a scholar, Maya. You’ll be the queen of this city."