A few hours later, everything felt like a blur.
The kids—those pale, starving shadows of what they once were—were rescued.
The adults who had been trapped, abused, forgotten—they were freed too.
The operation was a success.
Or as much of a success as it could be in a place so stained with cruelty.
But one question still haunted all of us:
Where was Leonard Valemont?
Missing.
Gone.
No trace.
And that terrified me more than I cared to admit.
Because men like Leonard didn't just run.
They regrouped.
They planned.
Which meant LUMENN had to be ready.
I turned toward Agent Twix—my mother—and without needing to say much, she nodded.
The silent order passed between us: Intensify security. Train harder. Get stronger. Prepare for war.
We couldn't afford to rest.
The clock ticked to 11:45 a.m.
Almost noon.
The sun outside shone too brightly for the darkness we had just crawled out of.
I wandered through the temporary medical area we had set up.
And that's when I saw them.
Aurelius sat rigidly beside Aurora's bed, like a statue carved from grief and hope.
His hand clutched hers so tightly it was a wonder he wasn't hurting her.
And next to him—
Lucien.
Poor Lucien.
The little boy who always admired me like I hung the stars in the sky...
Now he was bawling his eyes out, big, gulping sobs shaking his small body.
He was alive.
He was fine.
But inside... I wondered if he would ever be the same.
I stayed back for a moment, letting them have this small, fragile piece of peace.
Letting them grieve and hope in their own way.
Then, without thinking too much, I walked quietly toward Aurelius.
He looked up when he sensed me.
Tired. Raw.
Like someone who had been carrying the world on his back for far too long.
I offered him a small, crooked smile.
He didn't return it—but his eyes softened.
Without a word, I leaned down.
And kissed his forehead.
Just a small kiss.
Gentle.
A promise.
A reminder that he wasn't alone anymore.
That we weren't alone.
When I pulled back, his hand caught my wrist.
Not hard—just... there.
"Stay," he said hoarsely.
Just that one word.
Stay.
I nodded.
I sat beside him, letting the silence settle around us.
A kiss would be fine for now.
A kiss... and the promise that whatever came next, we'd face it together.
Aurora looked like a ghost of the girl she used to be.
Her skin, once flushed with the gentle warmth of life, was now pale—almost translucent under the harsh fluorescent lights.
There were dark shadows carved deep beneath her closed eyes, bruising her delicate face with exhaustion and suffering.
Her cheeks were hollow, the soft roundness of youth stripped away by days without food, water, or sunlight.
Her long hair—once silky and shining—was tangled, matted against her skin, strands clinging to her forehead with sweat.
Small cuts and bruises marked her arms, her legs—evidence of the careless cruelty she and the other children had suffered.
Her lips were dry and cracked, a pale, fragile line against her too-white face.
Even the rise and fall of her chest, shallow and weak, felt like it took every ounce of strength she had left.
Yet—despite everything—there was something unbearably pure about her.
A kind of broken beauty, fragile but unyielding, like the first snow that stubbornly refuses to melt even under a bitter sun.
She looked delicate. Breakable.
But also... alive.
And in that battered little body, there was still a pulse.
Still a fight.
Still a soul that refused to give up.
Three days later...
The sun was gentle that morning, filtering soft gold through the safehouse windows.
Aurora was still asleep, her body slowly recovering from the starvation and exhaustion she had been forced to endure. Her breathing was deeper now, steadier—a fragile rhythm that gave everyone a small piece of hope.
Lucien had refused to leave her side.
For three days straight, he clung to her bedside, wiping her forehead with a cool cloth, whispering stories only she could hear, promising to protect her from now on, even if he was still small. His bright eyes, once full of endless energy, were now rimmed with red, but he refused to cry anymore—not when his sister needed strength.
Aurelius, too, barely left the room.
I caught him a few times, sitting there in the chair beside Aurora, his hands clasped tightly in his lap, his head bowed in silent, desperate prayers.
Aurelius—the boy who was forged by cruelty and betrayal, the boy who had learned long ago that emotions were weaknesses—now looked heartbreakingly human.
Exhausted.
Protective.
Broken.
And somehow, still full of love.
I leaned against the doorway, watching them all, my heart twisting in a way I couldn't quite describe.
Three days ago, I saw death clinging to Aurora like a second skin.
Today, I saw life slowly, stubbornly fighting its way back into her.
"She's stronger than she looks," I said quietly, my voice barely more than a whisper.
Aurelius looked up at me with tired eyes and smiled—a rare, genuine smile, like a crack of sunlight breaking through a storm.
"I know," he said, his voice rough with emotion. "She's a Valemont. But she's also herself."
There was pride there. Pride and endless sorrow.
He brushed a strand of hair from Aurora's forehead with aching gentleness.
"She's survived the worst. Now... we just have to make sure she wakes up into a world worth living in."
I felt a lump rise in my throat.
He was right.
Rescuing Aurora wasn't the end.
It was just the beginning.
And somewhere, out there in the ruins of VARAK, Leonard Valemont was still free. Still dangerous. Still planning.
I straightened, clenching my fists.
We would train harder.
We would rebuild LUMENN stronger.
And next time, we wouldn't just survive.
We would win.
I shifted the little USB drive between my fingers, feeling the smooth plastic edges.
It was small—barely the size of a pinky finger—but it held something important: a beginner's hacking program I custom-built just for Lucien.
I had been working on it quietly at night between missions, college exams, and all the chaos that followed us lately.
It was nothing fancy, just enough for a six-year-old genius to poke around safely, to learn the basics without accidentally hacking into NASA or something. (Because honestly? I wouldn't put it past him.)
Phelia stood beside me, arms crossed but smiling softly, her usual "cool big sister" aura radiating.
Simon and Xavier lounged near the door, trying to look casual—but even they couldn't hide their excitement.
Simon, our tech engineer slash magical fixer of everything, had also prepared a small tablet specially modified with childproof settings and extra encryption.
Seriously, Lucien was about to be spoiled.
I crouched beside him, poking his chubby cheek gently.
"Kawaii~" I teased, grinning when he glared at me with the most adorable pout ever.
He still looked worn-out—his tiny hands clutched the edge of Aurora's blanket—but there was a stubborn spark in his eyes now. That fierce Valemont spirit.
"Hey, birthday girl~" Simon said behind me, tossing a small wrapped box at my head.
I caught it automatically.
Birthday...?
Oh. Right.
It was my birthday today.
Honestly, I'd forgotten about it with everything going on—and it seemed like everyone else had too, but... it didn't really matter.
The best gift I could ever ask for was right in front of me: seeing Aurora still fighting, still breathing.
Watching Lucien smile, even just a little bit.
I chuckled softly, handing Lucien the USB drive.
"Here, kiddo," I said. "Your official entry ticket to the Tech Nerd Club."
Lucien blinked at it, wide-eyed. "For me?"
"Yup. Custom-made by yours truly," I said, flipping my hair dramatically.
Simon added, "And we've got a special tablet for you too. So you can practice safely."
Lucien's eyes sparkled—actually sparkled—and he clutched the USB to his chest like it was treasure.
I caught Simon's smirk as he muttered, "Told you. The kid's a future cyber warrior."
"Future LUMENN agent," Phelia corrected, ruffling Lucien's hair.
He giggled softly for the first time in days.
And honestly?
That sound felt better than any cake, any party, any present.
I smiled to myself.
This—right here—was the life I chose.
Dangerous. Messy. Exhausting.
But real.
And today, it felt like maybe, just maybe, we were winning.
I turned to Aurelius.
He was sitting at the edge of Aurora's bed, slouched forward, his hands gripping the thin blanket as if letting go would make her disappear.
His once sharp, composed figure now looked... wrecked.
His black hair, usually so neatly styled, was a tangled mess that desperately needed combing.
His deep blue eyes—eyes that used to shine like cold steel—were now dulled, almost lifeless, rimmed with red from too many sleepless nights.
He didn't eat.
He barely drank.
He just sat there, muttering softly, like a broken record stuck between memories and regrets.
"She looks exactly like her," he kept whispering. "Exactly like Luciana... I can't lose her too... not again."
There was a pain in his voice so raw it made my chest tighten.
He was carrying all of it alone.
The guilt, the fear, the helplessness.
And somehow, even though I knew he was older, stronger, deadlier than me, right now...
Aurelius just looked like a lost boy begging the world not to take away the last piece of his heart.
Without thinking, I moved closer.
I cupped his cheek, feeling the roughness of his unshaven jaw under my fingers, and leaned in to kiss him softly on his cheek.
It wasn't passionate.
It wasn't romantic.
It was a silent promise.
You're not alone anymore.
He closed his eyes at the touch, his shoulders trembling—just for a moment—before he inhaled a shaky breath.
I stayed there, forehead pressed gently against his temple, letting him feel that I was here.
With him.
For him.
For Aurora.
For Lucien.
For all the broken pieces we were trying so desperately to put back together.
End of chapter 18.