The call came past midnight.
Nyra was half-asleep, sprawled across the hotel bed, laptop still open, code blinking quietly on the screen. Her phone vibrated once. Then again.
She didn't check the number.
She already knew.
"Yeah," she answered, voice low.
Silence on the other end. A drag. Then
"You alive?" Shark asked.
Nyra smiled into the pillow. "Barely."
"That's not funny."
"It kinda is."
She sat up, swinging her legs over the bed, eyes drifting to the city lights outside the window. Zurich felt a million miles from the Eastside. From cracked streets and loud nights. From him.
"You've been gone too long," Shark said. "People asking questions."
"People always ask questions," she replied. "I still give the same answers."
Another pause. Longer this time.
"You don't disappear," he said carefully. "Not like this."
Nyra exhaled. "It's work. Big work."
"You trust it?"
She didn't answer right away.
That was answer enough.
Shark's voice softened not weak, just real. "You remember the rules?"
She nodded even though he couldn't see her. "Don't get comfortable. Don't owe anyone. Don't let feelings make decisions."
"And?"
"And always know my exit."
"Good," he said. "Because money and suits kill quieter than guns."
That hit.
Nyra rubbed her thumb against the edge of the phone. "He's not my boss back home."
"No," Shark agreed. "But men like that hate what they can't own."
She laughed lightly. "You jealous?"
A low chuckle. "Of him? No."
A beat.
"Of what he sees? Maybe."
That made her still.
"You need me to come back early?" she asked.
"No," Shark said immediately. "Finish what you started. But don't forget where you stand."
"I never do."
"You better not," he replied. "Eastside don't forget its own."
When the call ended, Nyra stayed seated on the edge of the bed, phone warm in her hand.
Shark trusted her.
That was heavier than control.
She stood, stepped onto the balcony, and lit a cigarette.
The smoke curled upward, carrying Zurich and the Eastside together for just a moment.
Two worlds.
Both watching.