When faced with a question that could destroy her, answering isn't an option. Yet silence feels just as damning.
Ella's fingers curl into her palms, her nails pressing hard against her skin. Her throat tighten, dry and scratchy as she swallow down the lump threatening to choke her. Her chest feel like a cage trapping her breath, every passing second of silence tightening it further.
What can she possibly say?
Her thoughts spun in chaos, scrambling for an excuse, a lie—anything to throw him off. But deep down, she knows the truth: Steffen wouldn't have confronted her without evidence. He knows . He have to.
He must have figured out she is an agent.
"You already know the answer, Steffen." Her voice comes out steady, but it lacks the conviction she'd hope for. Taking a cautious step back, she tries to put some space between them.
His eyes, glowing faintly in the dim light, stayed lock on her. "I want to hear it from you." His voice, rough and rag, cut through the air like a blade. "Ella, what mission are you on?"
The effort to keep his rage in check is obvious, his hands trembled at his sides, his jaw clenched so tightly it seem to pain him. But beyond his fury, there is something else in his gaze. Something desperate.
He wants to believe in her. To hear a reason that would make sense. Something that can convince him this is all a terrible misunderstanding. Because if she is working for his sister, then…
He doesn't want to finish that thought.
"Steffen… you're scaring me," Ella murmur. Her voice trembles now, softer, almost breaking. She tug against his grip, but his hold remain firm, as if letting her go would shatter whatever fragile thread still tether them together.
But in his silence, she can feel the weight of his suspicion. It looms between them like a shadow, growing darker with every moment she doesn't speak.
Her heartbeat thunder in her ears, her mind racing for a way out. If she tell the truth, he will never trust her again. If she lie, he might already know.
And she can see it in his eyes, he doesn't want to lose her, but he can't let her walk away without an answer.
"Yes, Steffen. I'm an agent of the Organization."
His hands loosen their grip on her, his steps unsteady as he paces, raking his fingers through his hair. Rage churns inside him, an internal war between the urge to rip her apart and the bond that shackles his will.
She's his mate. The one person he's bound to, the one person he can't live without—even if he wants to.
"You were sent by Sheba, weren't you?" he demands, his voice low, almost a growl, as his piercing gaze pins her in place.
"Sheba?" Ella echoes, confusion flashing across her face. The name is foreign, completely unrecognizable. "Who's that?".
She has never met anyone by that name , the only person she has met and have contact with from the organization is The Lady, and she doubts , she's the same person he speaks of.
"Don't play dumb with me. Why else would you be here if not because of her?"
"I don't know her, Steffen. Yes, I'm an agent of the Organization, but do you think I chose this life?" Her voice hardens, an edge of bitterness slicing through her words. "I was nine years old when they took me. I thought they were saving me, but they turned out to be the devil. I had no choice. Obey or die, that's how it works."
Her words hang heavy in the air, each one raw, scraping at wounds that never healed.
Even if she's guilty, can she truly be blamed? Every decision in her life has been stolen from her. First by the Organization. Now by him.
"I had to survive, Steffen. So, yes, I'm an agent. A skilled one."
"Then why are you here? Was it an order?" His voice wavers, his rage barely contained. If she's here because of a mission, then every moment they've shared—her smiles, her care—could all be lies.
"No, Steffen." She shakes her head firmly. "I'm here because you and your men brought me here. The last thing I remember is you forbidding me to leave this place, remember?"
His jaw tightens. It's true, he had kept her under guard, claiming it was for her protection. But now, doubt claws at him. What if his sister orchestrated everything? What if Ella was sent to him as part of some elaborate plan?
And yet… how does she bear his mate mark?
"What does Sheba want? Why would she send you to me?"
Ella exhales sharply, her frustration spilling over. "I don't know who Sheba is. I only know that I was sent on a mission to steal a rare gemstone, and I failed. Now I'm trapped in this fantasy world where everyone sees me as a threat." Her voice cracks slightly, but she steadies herself, brushing her fingers through her hair.
"The only person I know is the Lady," she continues, her tone calmer. "Whoever this Sheba is, she's as much a mystery to me as she is to you."
Steffen's gaze hardens, his jaw ticking as his mind races. "Then how do you explain having my mate mark, Ella?"
"How am I supposed to know that, Steffen? I was unconscious when your people brought me here. You're the one who claimed me as your mate. You're the one who said my birthmark was your sacred mark, not me." Her voice trembles, but she presses on. "And trust me, I'd love to know why all of this is happening. But I don't. I don't know anything more than what you've told me."
Her words are desperate, pleading for him to believe her.
And while some of what she says is true, not all of it is. She knows more than she lets on, but telling him everything would mean putting both her life and Mia's at risk.
Steffen won't protect her if he learns the full truth. Not yet.
So for now, she gives him what he needs to hear.
The rest can wait.
"I'll trust you on this," Steffen says, his voice low and firm, each word weighted with warning. "But believe me, Ella—if I find out you've lied or twisted your words in any way, you'll see the worst of me."
With that, he fades from the room, his presence dissipating like a storm withdrawing, leaving Ella trembling in its wake.
She exhales sharply, relief flooding her chest. This time, she survived. But she knows there won't be a next time.
If Steffen uncovers the whole truth before she completes her mission, there'll be no mercy.
She needs to act—and quickly.
Before the walls close in completely, she has to secure the items the Lady has demanded. The sooner, the better.
Night descends, and Sulieman prowls the cold, shadowed halls of the Organization. Fury burns in his chest, each step echoing his rising anger.
The Lady—Sheba—has crossed the line. Acting without his counsel. Without his approval.
He storms into her chambers, his voice slicing through the silence like a blade. "You stole Teslime's body?"
Sheba, seated with an air of unbothered elegance, tilts her head slightly. A calm, almost innocent smile graces her lips, but her eyes glint with dangerous amusement.
"Stole?" she echoes, her tone light, almost mocking. "Now that's a discredit I won't accept. I didn't steal him, Sulieman. I won him. It's not my fault that the best they sent weren't… well, the best."
Her smile deepens, reaching her cold, calculating eyes.
Sulieman's fists clench. "Why, Sheba? Do you even realize the implications of your actions?" His voice rises, heavy with accusation and frustration.
Sheba leans back lazily in her chair, brushing off his outburst like dust on her sleeve. "I would realize them… if I cared."
Her words are sharp, deliberate, a blatant challenge
Sulieman glares at her, the muscles in his jaw ticking as his temper simmers beneath the surface. He knows Sheba well enough to see through the mask of indifference—this isn't carelessness. It's calculation.
And yet, he also knows that nothing she does is without purpose.
But for now, her refusal to answer only fuels the fire in his veins.