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Ben's eyes met hers, filled with understanding and a hint of something else, perhaps a touch of sadness. ‘Yeah, we do have a great situation,’ he agreed. ‘But I'm not suggesting this to change what we have. I'm suggesting it because I think it could make what we have even better.’
Ella sat up, turning to face him fully. The idea of sharing a life with Ben was both enticing and scary. She had always prided herself on her independence, on not needing anyone. But Ben wasn't just anyone. He had become a constant in her life, a source of strength and comfort.
‘Let me think it over.’
Ben nodded, his understanding evident in his gentle smile. ‘Of course, take all the time you need. This is a big decision, and I want you to be sure.’
Ella leaned into him, embracing his unnaturally warm torso. ‘Thank you for being so patient. This is new territory for me.’
The prospect of moving in with Ben was daunting, yet it held a promise of something beautiful and enduring. Ella knew she had a lot to consider, but for the first time, the future seemed to hold more hope than fear.
Ben grabbed her hand and shuffled to his feet. ‘Come on, bed. I’ve gotta be out early in the morning, and you’ve got a meeting with a Cyclops.’
Ella put all her thoughts to one side, otherwise she’d be stirring all night. The Logan Nash had be filed away deep, because if the new director caught wind of her amateur investigation, then she doubted she’d have a job much longer.
Tomorrow would bring its own challenges, but for now, in the quiet of the night, Ella tried to feel somewhat hopeful about an uncertain future.
CHAPTER FOUR
‘So let me get this straight,’ Ella said. ‘You punched him so hard it knocked his eye out?’
Ella pushed the button in the elevator for the top floor. She’d barely slept a wink the night before, too preoccupied with thoughts of what this morning might bring. Ripley, on the other hand, seemed in high spirits. Ella guessed the looming retirement was doing the heavy lifting.
Ripley flashed her knuckles, then pointed to the middle one. 'People never talk about the dangers of bony hands,' she said. 'I just wanted to hit the guy, not blind him.'
‘You enucleated him,’ Ella said.
‘He has a spare, doesn’t he?’
The elevator hummed as it ascended on its first journey of the morning, at least judging by the lack of bodies at HQ.
‘How do we play this, exactly?’ Ella asked, trying to shift her focus from Ripley’s past encounter with Carter. ‘We just walk in there and what, pretend like you didn’t disfigure the guy?’
‘Something like that. Look, Carter might be a weasel, but he’s not stupid. He knows he can’t touch me, not with my record. And you… you’re untouchable too, Dark.’
Ella wasn’t so sure. ‘Untouchable until I’m not. If Carter’s as vindictive as you say, he could make our lives a living hell.’
The elevator dinged, signaling their arrival at the top floor. The doors slid open to reveal the polished, high-security corridors of the FBI’s upper management. Ripley led the way.
‘Dark, I’m out of this place pretty damn soon. If this jerk pulls anything sketchy, I’m not above storming back in here and repeating history. I know every judge in this country, and they like me a lot more than they like Randall Carter.’
Ella couldn’t help but smirk at Ripley's bravado, though she felt a twinge of unease. ‘Corruption at its finest,’ she said.
As they walked through the pristine corridors, Ella noticed the subtle changes already taking place. The atmosphere felt different, less familiar. They stopped in front of the director's office, where Edis's plaque used to be. Now, the door was bare.
‘This guy works fast,’ Ella said.
'Yeah, well, perception is everything around here.'
Ella looked at the bare nameplate below the glass partition. With its gold text on a black background, Ella had come to associate the image with bad news. But even so, she missed it.
‘Feels like an end of an era.’
‘Yup. You ready?’
‘Ready.’
Ripley knocked on the door. Behind the frosted glass, Ella made out the profile of a man behind a desk. Slim and wiry, reminiscent of Nosferatu’s shadow. A far cry from the old director’s bulky frame.
