The safe house was quieter than usual that evening, the only sound the faint hum of the heater and the occasional rustling of papers as Benjamin worked. Clara sat curled up on the couch, a blanket wrapped around her as she watched the fire crackle in the fireplace. The warmth did little to ease the tension that had been building since their return from the docks. The events of the day lingered in her mind, especially the moment she'd seen Benjamin fighting off Moriarti's man.
She stole a glance at him. He was seated at the dining table, his head bent over a map spread out before him, one hand absently running through his dark hair. His focus was intense, as though he could will the pieces of his war against Moriarti to fall into place. But Clara could see the exhaustion etched into his features, the strain of carrying so much on his shoulders.
"Benjamin," she said softly, breaking the silence.
He looked up, his piercing eyes softening when they met hers. "What is it?"
"You've been staring at that map for hours. Take a break."
He gave her a faint smile. "I'll rest when Moriarti's out of the picture."
Clara rose from the couch, the blanket slipping to the floor. She crossed the room to stand beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "You can't fight him if you're running on empty. Even you have limits."
Benjamin leaned back in his chair, exhaling heavily. "You're right," he admitted, surprising her. "But I don't know how to stop. If I take my foot off the gas for even a moment, it feels like he'll gain the upper hand."
Clara pulled out the chair next to him and sat down. "You're not in this alone. Gregory, your team—they're all here to help you. And so am I."
His hand reached out to cover hers, his touch warm despite the chill of the room. "I know. And that's what keeps me going."
For a moment, they sat in silence, the weight of unspoken words hanging between them. Clara wanted to ask about his past, about the secrets he kept locked away. But she hesitated, unsure if now was the right time.
As if sensing her thoughts, Benjamin spoke. "There's something you should know."
Clara's heart skipped a beat. "What is it?"
He hesitated, his gaze dropping to their joined hands. "Moriarti… he wasn't always my enemy. There was a time when we worked together."
Her eyes widened. "You worked with him?"
Benjamin nodded, his jaw tightening. "Years ago, before I took over the family business. Back then, I was young, ambitious, and willing to do whatever it took to build my empire. Moriarti and I had a mutually beneficial partnership—he supplied resources, and I provided muscle. But it didn't take long for me to see the kind of man he was. He crossed lines I could never accept."
Clara listened intently, her mind racing. She'd known Benjamin's world was dark, but hearing about his past alliances brought it into sharper focus.
"What happened?" she asked.
"I cut ties with him," Benjamin said simply. "But Moriarti doesn't take rejection lightly. He saw my decision as a betrayal, and he's been coming after me ever since."
Clara's stomach churned. "So this isn't just business for him. It's personal."
"It's always personal with Moriarti," Benjamin said bitterly. "He thrives on grudges, on making people suffer. And he doesn't just come after me—he goes after anyone I care about."
Her breath caught. "You think he'll come after me?"
Benjamin's grip on her hand tightened. "He already has. The attack at the flower shop, the threats—that was all him. He knows how much you mean to me, Clara. That's why I have to stop him."
The weight of his words settled over her like a heavy cloak. She thought of her quiet life before Benjamin, the simplicity of her days at the flower shop. That world felt so far away now, replaced by one of danger and uncertainty. But despite everything, she couldn't bring herself to regret her choice to stay by his side.
"I'm not going anywhere," she said firmly. "No matter what Moriarti does, I'm with you."
Benjamin's eyes searched hers, as if seeking reassurance. When he spoke, his voice was low, almost vulnerable. "I don't deserve you."
Clara shook her head. "That's not for you to decide."
Before he could respond, the sound of the front door opening interrupted them. Gregory stepped inside, shaking off the rain from his coat.
"We've got a problem," he said, his tone grim.
Benjamin stood, his demeanor shifting instantly. "What is it?"
"One of our informants just called," Gregory said. "Moriarti's men have been seen near the east side of the city. They're targeting the warehouse where we keep our weapons cache."
Benjamin cursed under his breath. "We can't afford to lose that cache. If they get their hands on those weapons…"
"They'll have the firepower to level the playing field," Gregory finished.
Clara rose from her seat, her heart pounding. "What can I do to help?"
Benjamin turned to her, his expression conflicted. "Clara, this is going to be dangerous. I need you to stay here."
"No," she said firmly. "I can't just sit here and wait, not after everything I've seen. Let me help."
He hesitated, torn between his protective instincts and her determination. Finally, he nodded. "All right. But you stay close to me at all times. Understood?"
"Understood," she said, relief flooding her.
---
The drive to the warehouse was tense, the air inside the car heavy with anticipation. Benjamin and Gregory sat in the front, discussing strategy, while Clara sat in the back, her mind racing. She didn't know what to expect, but she was determined to prove she could handle herself.
When they arrived, the scene was eerily quiet. The warehouse loomed ahead, its massive doors slightly ajar. Benjamin signaled for his men to spread out, their weapons at the ready. He turned to Clara, his expression serious.
"Stay behind me," he said. "And if anything happens, run."
She nodded, her throat dry. As they approached the warehouse, the tension grew unbearable. Benjamin pushed the door open, revealing the cavernous interior. Rows of crates and barrels lined the space, casting long shadows in the dim light.
"Spread out," Benjamin ordered. "Check every corner."
The men moved swiftly, their footsteps echoing in the stillness. Clara stayed close to Benjamin, her eyes darting around the room. She felt a prickle of unease, as if they were being watched.
And then it happened. A flash of movement, a shout, and the warehouse erupted into chaos. Moriarti's men sprang from their hiding places, guns blazing. Clara ducked behind a crate as bullets whizzed past her, her heart pounding.
Benjamin returned fire, his movements swift and precise. Gregory and the others joined the fray, their shouts mingling with the deafening gunfire. Clara pressed herself against the crate, her mind racing. She couldn't just sit there while Benjamin risked his life.
Summoning her courage, she peeked around the crate. One of Moriarti's men was advancing toward Benjamin, his gun raised. Without thinking, Clara grabbed a nearby metal pipe and swung it with all her strength. The man crumpled to the ground, his weapon clattering away.
Benjamin turned, his eyes widening in shock. "Clara, what are you doing?"
"Helping," she said, her voice trembling but resolute.
He didn't have time to argue. The battle raged on, the warehouse filled with the sounds of gunfire and shouts. Clara stayed close to Benjamin, using her newfound weapon to fend off any threats that came too close.
Finally, the gunfire subsided. Moriarti's men had been defeated, their bodies scattered across the warehouse floor. Benjamin turned to Clara, his expression a mix of relief and frustration.
"You could have been killed," he said, his voice low.
"But I wasn't," she replied, meeting his gaze. "I told you—I'm not going anywhere."
For a moment, he said nothing. Then he pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly. "You're going to be the death of me, Clara Hamilton."
She smiled against his chest. "Not if I can help it."