Lila felt her fingers slipping from the desperate woman's trembling grasp. The woman clung to her as if letting go meant death, her nails lightly scraping against Lila's skin. For a heartbeat, Lila didn't move, caught in the sheer intensity of the woman's gaze, those wide, grief-stricken eyes locked on hers as if searching for something that had long been lost.
"Sit," Lila whispered, steady but gentle.
To her surprise, the woman obeyed instantly, sinking back onto the edge of the bed with a childlike obedience that made Lila's chest tighten. Her voice cracked as she asked, "Have you eaten?"
Lila gave the smallest nod, uncertain how to answer more. She looked up and caught the stunned faces of the old man and Adrian standing near the doorway. Their eyes were wide, helpless, as if their world had tilted sideways. For a moment, none of them breathed.
The woman, exhausted from her outburst, seemed to sag, her shoulders trembling before she lay back down. Lila leaned close, her hand brushing the woman's cold fingers. "Rest. I'm not going anywhere," she murmured, letting the words linger. Something in the woman's expression softened, and her eyes fluttered shut, drifting back into a fragile sleep.
Slowly, carefully, Lila let go of her hand and rose. She moved toward the door, motioning silently for the old man and his grandson to follow her. Once the door closed behind them, the old man pressed a hand to his chest, shaking his head in disbelief.
"This…" His voice cracked. He steadied himself on Adrian's arm. "This is the first time my daughter has spoken in years. Years! I thought I would never hear her voice again." His eyes, usually sharp and commanding, shimmered with tears that refused to fall.
Adrian looked shaken, though he tried to hide it. His jaw tightened, but his eyes betrayed him. "It's true. She hasn't said a single word. Not one. And now…" His gaze landed on Lila, filled with something between awe and confusion.
The old man's voice turned desperate, pleading. "She thinks you are her daughter. Please… please, keep acting like her."
The words struck Lila harder than she expected. She stiffened, caught off guard by the raw desperation in his tone. Her instinct screamed against the idea, but something in the old man's face silenced her refusal. His lips trembled, his hands clenched at his sides as if he were lowering himself in a way he had never done for anyone.
"That would be… difficult," she answered slowly, her voice low.
The old man's shoulders sagged, but instead of backing down, he took a step closer, eyes burning with quiet desperation. "I beg you. I have lost too much already. If you can give her even a sliver of peace, I—" His voice broke, and he fell silent, his dignity cracking under the weight of his plea.
Adrian turned toward her, his normally composed expression breaking into something raw. "Please," he said quietly.
Lila found herself nodding before she fully realized it, surprising even herself. A strange heaviness settled in her chest. She didn't understand why she agreed, but the words had already left her.
The relief that washed over the old man was immediate. He clasped her hands briefly, his grip trembling. "Thank you. You don't know what this means."
Lila didn't linger after that. She needed to breathe, needed space away from those desperate eyes. Leaving the Ravencourt mansion, she carried the image of the woman's trembling lips, whispering "my daughter," like a brand etched into her mind.
By the time she returned home, she was desperate to distract herself. She opened her laptop and booted up one of the games she rarely touched anymore. Fingers tapping the keys, she tried to lose herself in the rhythm, but her focus wavered. Her phone buzzed. A message.
Nathaniel.
Come to me. Now.
Her heart gave an involuntary skip. She closed the laptop in a hurry, calling out to her mother that she had a group study session and would be back later. Without waiting for a response, she slipped out into the night, her steps quick and silent.
Nathaniel was waiting when she arrived. His expression was calm, though his eyes carried that familiar sharpness she had learned to read carefully. He wasted no time.
"There's another mission," he said, his voice low. "The man you killed at the party… he wasn't working alone. His minions are still carrying out his business, even in his absence. You'll have to finish what you started."
He handed her a folded map, his fingers brushing hers briefly. She glanced down at the paper—routes, entry points, guard positions, scrawled in his precise handwriting. His voice was steady, commanding, but his gaze lingered on her a second too long.
"The date is set," Nathaniel continued. "You'll go in, wipe them out, and leave no loose ends. You cannot afford mistakes this time."
She absorbed the details quickly, nodding. When she turned to leave, his voice stopped her.
"Lila."
She froze. He rarely called her name like that, not with that softness.
"Be careful," he said. The command was gone from his tone, replaced by something quieter, almost reluctant. "Make sure you don't get hurt."
For a moment, the silence between them felt heavier than any order. His eyes held hers, not cold, not ruthless, but something else—something that unsettled her more than his usual sharpness ever could.
Her lips curved into a small smile before she could stop herself. "I will."
She left quickly, before the warmth of his words could undo her.
The next morning came too quickly. It was the last day of exams. She moved through the motions with practiced ease, finishing her paper exactly ten minutes before time. Her classmates cast glances her way, some envious, some dismissive, but she ignored them all.
When the bell rang, she gathered her things and made her way to the door, eager to leave. But as she stepped out, she collided with someone.
Lucien.
The class president's books scattered across the floor. He immediately bent to gather them, his words tumbling out. "I'm sorry—I wasn't paying attention."
Lila's gaze flicked to him briefly, unreadable. She said nothing, only stepped around him, her silence sharper than any rebuke. He glanced up, catching the back of her figure disappearing down the hallway, and something unspoken lingered in his eyes.
By the time she returned home, her mind was already elsewhere. The weight of the mission pressed on her, a familiar thrill coursing through her veins. She needed to be ready.
As dusk settled, she slipped out again, this time to a quiet, abandoned clearing on the edge of town. The air was cool, the ground soft beneath her boots. She rolled her shoulders, loosened her grip, and let her body fall into old rhythms.
Strike. Step. Pivot. Her movements sliced through the air with sharp precision, each motion faster, tighter, more deliberate. Sweat slicked her skin, her breaths coming steady and controlled. Her blades flashed briefly in the fading light, sharp arcs that glinted like silver promises.
This mission would be dangerous, more so than the last. She knew it. But the danger didn't unsettle her. If anything, it lit something alive within her veins. And buried beneath the adrenaline, there was another thought she couldn't ignore.
Nathaniel had told her to be careful. He had worried—about her.
For the first time, she felt her chest tighten with something she couldn't quite name. Excitement. Unease. Maybe both.
She spun, blade cutting through the night air, and let the thought linger like a spark she couldn't extinguish.
The mission was coming. And this time, it wasn't just about survival.
It was about the faint, dangerous warmth of knowing someone might care if she didn't return.