"What is she up to?" I ask Sara through gritted teeth.
"I don't—"
"Na-na-na… Don't tell me you don't know anything about this," I cut her off, my voice low but burning.
Sara exhales heavily, avoiding my eyes. She doesn't answer—just distracts herself by tapping something on her laptop.
"Well?" I press again after a long stretch of silence.
Instead of replying, Sara switches on the large screen mounted in front of us.
"Madam," she says in a composed, solemn tone when Mrs. Rauss appears onscreen.
"Hello, my son," Mrs. Rauss greets with her usual calm.
I flinch at her words.
My son.
I bite down the urge to argue. What's the point? I'm exhausted. Every bone in my body aches. My bruises still sting with every breath. I haven't slept in over 72 hours. I'm not even sure I can stand without swaying. Driving? Out of the question.
I turn to Sara, locking eyes with her. A silent demand.
She arches a brow, feigning innocence.
I soften my glare—make it a plea.
Sara sighs in surrender.
"I'm sorry to interrupt your time, Madam," she says after a polite cough. "Mr. Bennet here… he's wondering… what the real purpose was behind the mission he just completed."
"Why should he care about the purpose?" Mrs. Rauss asks smoothly.
"Because—"
"Because my mission was to eliminate the target," I snap, cutting off Sara. "And I did. I'm 100% sure my bullet hit the man's heart."
"You did," Mrs. Rauss replies, unbothered.
"But the target survived."
"He did."
I scoff and shake my head. "Then what was the point?"
"Don't you want to know the how?" she asks, redirecting the conversation like a magician with a sleight of hand.
I scoff again. "I know how."
She raises a curious eyebrow.
"You sent a warning to his team. They activated the emergency protocol, switched in a stunt double. Simple."
Mrs. Rauss claps lightly. "Still clever as ever, Quint."
I wince at the name. Her name for me.
"Why?" I push myself forward, lifting from the chair despite the pain it sends pulsing through my ribs. I clench my jaw, not letting it show. "Why did you do it? Was it so you could say I failed? So you could back out of saving my family? Or is this just another ploy to push me into your little organization?"
"Did I do any of that?" she replies, her lips curling slightly, taunting.
"Are you going to?"
"If that's what you want me to do…"
"Damn it!!" I slam my palm on the table so hard the whole surface rattles.
"Don't play with me!" I shout.
Still—only that thin, knowing smile from her.
"I almost forgot you still had emotions," she says softly, as if observing a rare creature.
I drop back into my chair, exhaling hard. I close my eyes and force myself to count. One to ten. Steady. Inhale. Exhale.
Then she sighs.
"Your mission was to eliminate the target. But circumstances changed."
"Then why not abort the mission?" I snap, my eyes opening.
"You know why."
"No. I don't."
We stare at each other across the screen. Eyes locked. Unblinking. Unreadable.
Five minutes pass before she finally speaks again.
"I needed to see your professionalism."
The screen cuts to black.
And I'm left sitting there—speechless. Numb.
Even with her gone, I still can't find a single word to say.
-
The man had just stepped behind the podium, waving to the roaring crowd that cheered his name with devotion. He didn't know—he couldn't know—that a target mark was hovering on his left chest.
With one final breath, I squeezed the trigger.
A second later, he collapsed. Lifeless.
Suddenly, my phone rang.
I barely touched the screen before Thief's voice exploded through the speaker."YOU!! How could you?! I thought we were friends!!"
"Thief, I—"She didn't let me finish. The call ended.
I exhaled, long and slow, and pressed my eye back to the scope one last time before starting to clean up.
His body was still there, blood blooming across his chest.
But then—I froze.
The bloodied face…
Andy.
What—?
Andy?
My stomach twisted.
And then—his eyes snapped open.
He looked straight at me, lips moving to speak.
"I thought you would protect me!!"
His eyes pierced through the scope like daggers. I jolted upright with a sharp gasp.
My heart thundered in my chest.
It was just a dream.
I blinked, confused, disoriented. Where—?
Then I recognized it. My old room in the North Wing.
Another shaky exhale. It was over. But the nightmare clung to me like cold sweat. Their voices still echoed in my skull—Thief's, bitter and betrayed. Andy's, raw with hurt. The disappointment in both of them cut deeper than any wound.
I covered my face with both hands and shook my head.
"No... No... No!!!" I growled, punching the pillow beside me, then gripped my hair, groaning in frustration. "ARGH!!"
I reached for my phone, dialed Thief's number with trembling hands.
Inactive. That's what the automated voice told me.
I checked the last message I'd sent her—back when I tried to explain myself.
Not delivered.
Blocked.
My chest sank. I understood why. I did. But God, I wished she hadn't.
I hoped… I hoped somehow she might forgive me.
But who was I kidding?
I wouldn't forgive someone who tried to hurt my family either. Lily was proof of that.
But you were forced, a voice in my head reasoned. She wasn't.
What's the difference when the outcome's the same? another voice replied.She tried to kill your loved ones. You tried to kill hers.
But she went after two of them. I only—
Does the number matter? Would you forgive her if she'd only gone after Jennifer?
Silence.
I closed my eyes. The second voice had won. I couldn't argue with it anymore.
Opening them again, I stared up at the chandelier above. Trying to push the regret aside, I let my gaze scan the room in the dim light, focusing on any detail to ground myself.
The chandelier was ornate—the only thing in the room that resembled a castle.
Everything else was modern minimalist. I'd chosen the furniture myself: a low-framed king-sized bed, a long wardrobe with a desk attached at one end, and a single reading chair in the corner.
Then something caught my eye.
A vanity, across from the bed.
Lily's.
She'd brought it here when she'd… moved in. A piece of her still clinging to the space.
My gut tightened.
Does that mean she's still sleeping here…?
"Shit!" I muttered, bolting out of bed. I rushed to the built-in closet and flung it open.
Half full—with Lily's clothes.
The other half?
Mine.
It was like time had frozen. Five years gone, and nothing had changed. She was still here. Still sleeping in this room. Still clinging.
I shut the door with a sigh and closed my eyes.
There was only one place I wanted to be right now.
With Jennifer.
I wasn't sure how long I'd been here. After five straight days without sleep, I'd finally accepted Sara's offer: two thin-rolled papers and a strip of sleeping pills. I'd passed out in the living room. Somehow, I'd ended up back in my old bed.
I crept down the stairs quietly, not wanting to disturb anyone.
Halfway down, I stopped.
The living room.
It was still and quiet—almost empty.
Except for two people.
Bruno and Lily.
She lay curled on one of the off-white sofas, her back to the room. Her right hand covered her face—but I could see it. The tears on her cheek, the missing ring finger.
She'd lost both ring fingers as punishment from Madam.
Her dream had been to marry me.
Now, no one would ever put a ring on those fingers.
Bruno sat on the carpet a few feet away, knees pulled to his chest, arms folded on top of them, head buried low.
This man…
He loved her so deeply it made no sense. After all her rejections, all her obsession with me—he still stayed. Never resented me. Never blamed me. Somehow… became my closest friend in this group.
My phone rang, snapping me out of the moment.
I answered.
"Yes?"
"Mr. Bennet," said Mr. Paresh's voice, calm and clear. "Today marks 34 weeks of the pregnancy. If you're ready… it's safe enough to deliver the baby."