The morning sun sifted through the mansion's tall windows, as it painted long golden stripes across the marble floor of Marcus's study. But the light didn't bring warmth—just a heavy silence that stretched between the two men standing across from each other.
Marcus sat behind his mahogany desk, fingers steepled beneath his chin, his gaze was fixed on Noah like a hawk assessing prey. The faint ticking of the clock on the wall was the only sound that dared to move.
"Noah," Marcus began, his voice low, deliberate, and a blade wrapped in silk. "You've been close to Alexa lately."
Noah shifted slightly but didn't look away. "She's Aaron's caretaker. I see her because of him."
Marcus's eyes narrowed just enough to make the air feel heavier. "Caretaker or not, she's been disappearing. At odd hours. Leaving the mansion unnoticed. You've seen it."
A beat of silence. Noah didn't reply.
Marcus leaned forward. "Don't play dumb. You're sharp—I made sure of that when I hired you. So tell me, where does she go?"
"I don't know," Noah said, his tone calm but firm.
Marcus tilted his head, studying him. "You don't know, or you won't say?"
Noah exhaled quietly, keeping his composure. "Both."
That answer was bold, and for a moment, something flickered in Marcus's eyes—a flash of irritation, maybe respect, maybe both. He stood, walking to the window. His reflection stared back at him in the glass—cold, controlled, yet visibly cracking at the edges.
"She's hiding something," Marcus murmured, more to himself now. "Something that doesn't fit."
Noah's voice softened. "Maybe she just needs space, Marcus. You've been… different with her. Colder."
Marcus turned sharply, his stare slicing through Noah. "You think this is about emotions? This is about control. Every variable, every threat—I need to know where it stands. And Alexa, lately, doesn't stand where she should."
Noah's jaw tensed. "She's not your enemy."
"Not yet," Marcus replied. His tone was so quiet it sent a chill through the room.
For a long moment, the two men said nothing. The study felt smaller, suffocating. Then Marcus crossed the room and stopped just a foot from Noah, his expression unreadable.
"You're loyal," Marcus said finally. "To Aaron, to this house. But remember who your loyalty belongs to first."
"To you," Noah said, though his tone carried more weight than allegiance.
"Good," Marcus said, his voice softening just slightly. "Because if you're keeping something from me…" He paused, letting the silence sharpen the threat. "…then I'll find out. And when I do, it won't end well for her—or for you."
Noah's expression didn't falter, but inside, his stomach tightened. He could feel it now—the man before him wasn't just suspicious. He was dangerous when crossed.
Marcus turned back toward his desk, dismissing him with a flick of his hand. "That's all for now. Keep your eyes open. Report anything unusual."
Noah hesitated for half a second before bowing his head slightly and leaving the room.
When the door shut behind him, Marcus leaned against his desk, rubbing his temples. His thoughts were chaos—anger, guilt, confusion, and something that felt too much like fear.
He looked out the window again, his reflection staring back.
"Who are you really, Alexa?" he muttered under his breath.
Scene 2
Alexa sat on the edge of her bed, the late afternoon light washing her room in a tired gold. The silence felt louder than ever—too heavy, and too still. She pressed her palms against her temples, her mind racing like a storm that refused to quiet.
Pieces. Everything was just pieces.
Dante's connections with the YOTTA. The Administrator's cryptic tone. Marcus's sudden hostility. Nina's smug smile at breakfast. It all connected somehow—but the lines between them were blurred, like a photograph half-burned.
She exhaled shakily and leaned back against the headboard. Her thoughts tangled and untangled again.
"Marcus gets a call the same night I get my mission," she murmured under her breath. "Then Dante ends up spilling secrets about the YOTTA and how Marcus is connected with it, but something still doesn't add up. Now he's colder than ice. No coincidence. He knows something… or someone made sure he suspects me."
Her fingers drummed against her thigh as her mind sharpened into analysis mode—the assassin's instinct that had kept her alive for years. She replayed the last week in her head like a film reel.
Nina's calculated timing.
Marcus's sudden switch from wary to cruel.
The Administrator's eerie silence after she confirmed the hit.
And Noah… his warning. "Marcus has started suspecting you."
She sighed, staring out the window at the fading sky. "If Marcus finds out what I really am… this entire place becomes a battlefield."
Her throat tightened at the thought. Not because of fear—but because of Aaron. That boy had cracked her walls without even trying. His smile, his laughter, his innocence—it all reminded her of something she had buried long ago.
Family.
She clenched her fists. "I can't let anything happen to him. Not him, not again."
But another thought crept in—one she didn't want to entertain. What if Marcus turns on me before I can protect his son? What if… he already has?
Her chest tightened. She forced herself to take a slow breath. "No," she whispered. "Focus. Keep your head clear. You're not that little girl waiting for someone to save you. You are the storm now."
She stood, pacing the room, thinking of the strange coincidences that led her here. Every move she made felt like someone else had already predicted it—like she was part of a script written by invisible hands.
And that gnawed at her more than anything.
Her gaze flickered to the mirror across the room. The woman staring back at her looked calm, composed—but the storm behind her eyes told the truth.
She whispered to her reflection, "I need to find out who's pulling the strings before they decide to cut mine."
Just then—a knock.
Alexa froze. Her hand instinctively went to the hidden dagger under her pillow. She waited. No second knock. No voice. Just silence.
"Who is it?" she asked, her voice steady.
Nothing.
Her heartbeat quickened as she crossed the room quietly, her steps feather-light on the polished floor. She turned the doorknob and pulled the door open—ready for anything.
Except what she saw.
Aaron stood there, looking up at her with his wide, earnest eyes, clutching his favorite stuffed wolf.
"Can we… do something together?" he asked, his voice small, hopeful.
The tension in her chest broke like a dam. Alexa blinked, lowering the dagger she hadn't even realized she was still holding.
"Aaron…" she exhaled softly, forcing a smile to hide her racing heart. "You scared me half to death."
He tilted his head. "Sorry. You looked sad. I thought maybe we could play or… just talk."
Her throat tightened at his sincerity. That innocence—the kind the world had beaten out of her long ago—still lived in him. And she'd protect that with everything she had.
"Sure," she said quietly, crouching to meet his eyes. "Just give me a second to grab my jacket, okay?"
Aaron grinned, the kind of grin that could melt the coldest ice, and nodded before running off down the hallway.
Alexa lingered in the doorway for a moment, staring after him, her thoughts whispering like ghosts.
"Something's coming," she murmured to herself. "And I need to be ready."
She shut the door behind her and followed the faint sound of Aaron's laughter echoing down the hall—
unaware that, in the shadows at the end of the corridor, someone else was watching her.