Midnight at the Magnolia (Venom and Virtue #1)

17. Ethan

17

ETHAN

URGENT UPDATE

Agent Blake reports direct contact with suspected Viper. Note: Agent’s judgment possibly compromised. Review of case leadership pending.

The first rays of sunlight creep through my office blinds like an unwanted confession, casting accusatory shadows across the evidence board. I press the ice pack harder against my throbbing temple, each throb a reminder of Celeste’s betrayal. The physical pain is almost welcome—it distracts from the deeper ache in my chest.

“You always did have a blind spot for beautiful women with secrets,” Lauren’s voice whispers from my memory. She would have seen through Celeste immediately, would have noticed all the signs I chose to ignore.

Gregory is dead. The heist failed. And Celeste... God, Celeste. The woman I love stands at the center of it all, a spider in a web I’m only beginning to understand. Some FBI agent I am, falling for the femme fatale. Lauren would never let me live this down.

“Pattern recognition,” her memory chides. “It’s what made you a good detective. Until a pretty smile made you forget how to look.”

I rub my temples, feeling the rough stubble beneath my palms. The image of Celeste standing over Gregory’s body burns behind my eyes—the fluid grace of her movements, the cold determination in her expression. Like watching a mask slip to reveal the predator beneath.

Yet when it was over, she collapsed into my arms, all trembling vulnerability and tears. The scent of her hair mingled with gunpowder and fear still lingers in my nose, a toxic perfume I can’t shake.

Another memory surfaces, sharp enough to draw blood: Celeste and I walking through the French Quarter on a lazy Sunday. Sunlight catching in her hair like a halo, her laugh pure music. Her fingers intertwined with mine as if they belonged there. That memory feels like a dream now, or maybe a carefully crafted lie.

“Every good undercover knows how to make the lie feel real,” Lauren’s voice reminds me. “You taught me that, remember?”

Which version of Celeste is real? The warm-smiled waitress who stole my heart? Or the efficient killer who emerged in that museum? My training says they’re both masks, carefully crafted personas hiding something darker underneath. My heart... my heart just wants another Sunday afternoon in the Quarter, another moment believing in the dream.

The office outside my door begins to stir, phones ringing and conversations building like a tide of normalcy I’m no longer part of. I check my watch, surprised to see it’s past nine. Time slips differently when you’re watching your world unravel.

I lean back in my chair, studying the evidence board with Lauren’s methodical eye. Each photo, each connection, each piece of evidence I’ve gathered speaks to a truth I didn’t want to see. The woman I love is either a victim or a villain, and I’m terrified to find out which.

Because deep down, I already know the answer. I just don’t know if I can live with it.

A sharp knock cuts through my spiral of self-recrimination. Detective Reeves appears in my doorway, looking as haggard as I feel. The stale smoke clinging to his rumpled suit tells me he’s been chain-smoking—his own way of dealing with a case gone sideways.

“Forensics report just came in,” he says, voice gravelly with fatigue. The file lands on my desk with the weight of a death sentence. “You’re gonna want to see this.”

“Some evidence you can’t unsee,” Lauren’s voice whispers as I flip open the folder. My heart sinks with each damning word. The knife that killed Gregory—Celeste’s knife—has DNA matching our mystery vigilante. The same DNA from multiple crime scenes over the past year.

“Looks like your girlfriend’s got some explaining to do,” Reeves says, trying for gruff sympathy and landing somewhere near pity.

I shoot him a warning look, jaw clenching. “Celeste is a victim in all this. She was defending herself.” The words feel hollow even as I say them, like trying to convince myself the sun rises in the west.

“That’s what I said about you too, remember?” Lauren’s memory cuts deep. “Right before you figured out I was dirty. Sometimes love blinds us to the obvious.”

“Where is she now?” I force the question past the tightness in my throat.

“In a holding cell.” Reeves’ coffee-scented reply carries unspoken questions. “Want me to bring her up?”

I nod, ignoring the spike of pain through my temples. “Yeah. I need to question her myself.”

“Be careful,” Lauren warns as Reeves leaves. “She’s already proven she can get the drop on you once.”

The wait feels eternal. I pace my office like a caged animal, each step marking time between who I was yesterday and who I am today. The familiar sounds of the precinct - phones ringing, muffled conversations, ancient air conditioning rattling - feel suddenly foreign, like background noise in someone else’s life.

When they finally bring her in, the sight of her stops me cold. She looks small in her pink diner uniform, vulnerable in a way that makes my protective instincts surge. But there’s something else, something that makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up. A flash of calculation in her eyes, there and gone so quick I might have imagined it.

But I didn’t imagine it. Not this time.

“You’re not imagining things anymore,” Lauren’s voice confirms. “You’re finally seeing clearly. Question is: what are you going to do about it?”

“Celeste,” I manage, fighting to keep my voice neutral.

She looks up, relief washing over her face like a perfectly rehearsed scene. “Ethan. Thank God. Can I go home now? I’ve been here for hours.”

I sink into the chair across from her, its cold metal grounding me in reality. “There are some inconsistencies in your story we need to clear up.” I can’t help adding, with bitter humor, “And trust me, I’ve been replaying every moment in my head all night, so I’ve got a pretty good highlight reel going. Spoiler alert: it’s not a feel-good movie.”

She doesn’t respond. Just sits there looking both breathless and defiant, a contradiction that makes my head spin and my heart ache.

“Sometimes silence says more than words,” Lauren’s memory whispers. “You taught me that too.”

“Walk me through it again,” I lean forward, studying her face like evidence at a crime scene. “When did you first notice Gregory acting suspiciously?”

“You’re asking the wrong questions,” Lauren’s voice chides. “You know she’s going to lie. Ask what matters.”

Celeste sighs, running a hand through her hair. The familiar gesture sends a wave of her scent across the table - jasmine and coffee and something uniquely her. A scent that used to mean comfort. Now it just reminds me of betrayal.

“I told you, Ethan. About a week ago. He came into the diner, more agitated than usual.”

“And you didn’t think to mention this to me earlier because...?”

“Because I didn’t think it was relevant!” Her hands fly up in exasperation. Perfect indignation. Perfect performance. “He’s always been a bit odd. How was I supposed to know he was planning a heist?”

“Notice how she deflects?” Lauren whispers. “Just like I used to. Answer a question with a question. Keep them defensive, off balance.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose, fighting both my headache and my instincts. All my training says she’s lying. My heart keeps trying to find excuses for her.

A knock interrupts us—lunch offer from an officer. I wave him off, but not before catching the audible growl of Celeste’s stomach. This small, human detail nearly undoes me.

“When’s the last time you ate?” My voice softens traitorously.

“I... I’m not sure. Yesterday, maybe?”

I start to rise, old habits of caring for her taking over, but she stops me with a vehement head shake. “No. I want to get this over with. Please, Ethan.”

The desperation in her voice gives me pause. Is it real? Or just another performance?

“She’s good,” Lauren’s voice admits. “Better than I was. But watch her eyes when she lies. Everyone has a tell.”

“Alright,” I settle back. “Let’s continue. Tell me about the moment you entered the museum.” I deliberately leave out the part where she knocked me out, kidnapped me. Some truths I’m not ready to face in an official capacity. “How did you know when and where to go?”

Her eyes dart away—there it is, the tell Lauren mentioned. “I entered through the side door. It was dark, and I could hear voices echoing from deeper inside the building.”

“And you didn’t think to call for backup?” I press the point like pressing on a bruise, wanting to feel the pain. “Or I don’t know, wake me up, in the car you left me in?”

Celeste’s jaw tightens beautifully. Everything about her is beautiful, even her lies. “There wasn’t time. I thought... I thought I could handle it.”

“Handle it?” The words taste bitter. “Celeste, you’re a waitress, not a trained operative. What made you think you could handle a group of armed criminals?”

She meets my gaze then, and for a moment, I see something real in her eyes—a flash of steel beneath the silk. “You’d be surprised what people are capable of when pushed to their limits, Ethan.”

The weight of her words settles between us like a loaded gun on a table. Both of us know it’s there, neither willing to reach for it first.

“She’s giving you an opening,” Lauren’s voice urges. “Take it. Push harder.”

“Alright,” I say slowly, watching Celeste’s every micro-expression. “So you entered the museum. Then what happened? Walk me through how a waitress took down an armed crew.”

She takes a deep breath, her fingers tracing invisible patterns on the table. I’ve seen her do this before, late at night at the diner when she thought no one was watching. Another tell, or another carefully crafted detail?

“I followed the voices to the main gallery. They were taking paintings, wrapping them.” Her voice stays steady, but her fingers still their movement. “That’s when I decided to intervene.”

“And that’s when muscle memory took over?” The words slip out before I can stop them. “Combat training kicked in?”

“Don’t push too hard,” Lauren warns. “You’ll lose her if she feels cornered.”

Celeste looks at me then, really looks at me, and for a moment her mask slips. I see depths in her eyes that take my breath away—pain, determination, and something that looks dangerously like love.

“Sometimes,” she says softly, “the right thing and the safe thing aren’t the same, Ethan.”

“Neither is the truth and what we want to believe,” Lauren’s memory whispers.

I lean forward, my voice dropping to match hers. “Celeste, what aren’t you telling me? Because right now, I’ve got a vigilante’s DNA, combat skills that don’t match your story, and a whole lot of coincidences that stopped feeling coincidental months ago.”

For a heartbeat, I think she might break. Might finally let me in. The air between us grows thick with unspoken truths.

But then the door bursts open with a bang that makes us both jump. Alex storms in, wild-eyed and waving a USB drive like a weapon.

“She’s playing you!” he shouts, his voice cracking with desperation. “I have proof of everything! She’s your vigilante!”

I’m on my feet instantly, positioning myself between them. Old habits die hard—even now, my first instinct is to protect her.

“Too late for that,” Lauren’s voice says sadly. “You couldn’t protect me either.”

“Sir, you need to calm down and step outside,” I say, but my eyes are on Celeste. I see the shift in her posture, the predator emerging from beneath the prey’s disguise. My heart races as I realize what’s about to happen.

“Watch her hands,” Lauren warns. “Always watch their hands.”

Time seems to slow, each heartbeat stretching into eternity. I see Celeste’s muscles coil, ready to spring. I should stop her. It’s my duty, my job, everything I’ve sworn to uphold.

But as our eyes meet across the room, I see everything we’ve never said written in her gaze. Fear. Regret. Love.

“I’m sorry, Ethan,” she whispers, and I hear truth in those words if nothing else.

My hand hovers over my gun. One movement could end this. Could keep her here, get answers, do my job.

“Sometimes love means letting go,” Lauren’s voice softens. “You taught me that too.”

I let her go.

Celeste moves like liquid lightning, disarming Alex and vanishing through the door before anyone can react. I could have stopped her. Should have stopped her.

Instead, I watch her disappear, taking both the USB drive and my heart with her.

“She took the fucking drive you imbecile!” Alex’s words barely register through the roar in my ears.

I stumble to the window, catching one last glimpse of her slipping into the crowd below. Even now, she moves with that deadly grace that should have been my first clue.

“You knew,” Lauren’s voice says gently. “You always knew. You just weren’t ready to see.”

I close my eyes, leaning my forehead against the cool glass. I’ve betrayed my badge, my oath, everything I stand for. And for what? A woman who’s been lying to me since the day we met?

But even as doubt and guilt churn in my gut, I can’t regret my choice. Celeste is more than just a suspect now. She’s a mystery I need to solve, a truth I have to uncover.

I’ve crossed a line, the taste of betrayal bitter on my tongue, but her touch still burns on my skin. Some truths are worth damning yourself for.

“Just make sure this time,” Lauren’s voice fades like a ghost at sunrise, “you’re ready for the answers you find.”