The phone rang, cutting through the quiet of the early morning. Lilly Stilgan had just finished her morning routine—a quick shower, coffee, and her usual scan of the news headlines she'd be covering later in the day. She reached for the phone, thinking it was another work call. But the moment she heard the voice on the other end, her stomach dropped.
"Lilly... It's your father. He's... he's dead."
The world around her seemed to blur, the words barely sinking in as she stood frozen. Dead? The estrangement between her and her father had stretched on for years, but she never expected it to end like this. Without a second thought, she grabbed her jacket and rushed out the door, the sound of her heartbeat louder than her footsteps.
Arriving at her father's grand estate, Lilly's heart sank as she saw the flashing lights of police cars and an ambulance parked in the driveway. She pushed through the small crowd gathered at the gate and ran towards the house, her breath coming in short, panicked bursts.
A stretcher was being wheeled out, covered by a white sheet. Her legs trembled as she rushed forward, pushing past a paramedic. She needed to see for herself. Yanking the sheet back, she gasped, choking on a sob. There he was—her father, Lious Stilgan—his lifeless body motionless, with a single gunshot wound to his head.
"No..." Lilly whispered, collapsing to her knees. Grief and shock clawed at her insides, overwhelming her. She felt the weight of regret crush her as the tears flowed uncontrollably.
She hadn't spoken to him in months. Years, even, if she were being honest with herself. The unresolved tension, the arguments, and the cold distance between them now seemed meaningless in the face of death. Now, there would be no chance to make things right.
A hand gently rested on her shoulder. "Lilly... I'm so sorry."
She didn't need to look up to recognize the voice. Uncle Edward. He knelt beside her, trying to offer comfort, but the pain was too much. "I didn't even speak to him. I didn't... I didn't say goodbye," she sobbed, her body shaking with the weight of her grief.
Edward squeezed her shoulder, his voice low and gentle. "I know, Lilly. I know. But you have to stay strong now. He's gone..."
"I didn't make peace with him, Uncle. I never... I thought I had more time." The regret was suffocating. All those years spent avoiding him, refusing to engage, and now it was too late. Her father was gone, and there would be no chance for forgiveness, no closure.
A detective approached, his voice breaking through the haze of her sorrow. "Miss Stilgan, I'm Detective Hayes. I'm sorry for your loss, but I'll need to ask you some questions when you're ready."
Lilly barely registered his presence, her eyes locked on her father's body. The house manager stood nearby, quietly speaking with another officer. She must have been the one that found the body, her body gave a shiver at realisation that she just referred to her dad as lifeless.
The detective knelt down next to Lilly, his tone more gentle now. "Do you have any idea why someone would want to harm your father?"
Lilly shook her head slowly, her thoughts spinning in a whirlwind. "I... I don't know. I haven't talked with him in so long. I wouldn't know where to begin."
The words felt like knives in her chest. She hadn't talked to him in so long. She had pushed him away, choosing her career and her independence over a relationship with him. Now, there was nothing left but regret.
As Edward helped her to her feet, guiding her away from the scene, she cast one last glance at her father's body being loaded into the ambulance. The finality of it all hit her hard. The man she had once admired, resented, and ultimately avoided was gone. And there was no going back.
Her father had died alone. And in some twisted way, so had she.
---
Jack woke up with a start, drenched in sweat. The nightmare again—the one where his comrades were gunned down around him, leaving him alone to feel the unbearable weight of survival. The pain, the grief, the anger. The kind of rage that festered, turning his envy of their deaths into something darker. Vengeance. That was all that was left now.
Rising from the bed, he checked the time 6:00pm "excellent timing" he moved mechanically, washing his face and brushing his teeth, the cold water doing little to cool the fire in his chest. He pulled on a vest and shorts, lacing up his sneakers. He had to run—to feel the burn in his muscles, to keep the rage at bay, and maybe, to get a sense of this city where his mission would unfold.
Since the ambush a month ago, he had been living off the grid. Officially, there were no survivors. No one knew he was still alive. And that was the way it had to stay. Out of sight, out of mind—but always prepared. His orders were to remain hidden, but he also had to stay fit. The fight wasn't over.
As he pounded the pavement, weaving through lanes and streets, the neighborhood was becoming familiar. His lungs burned, and his mind buzzed with the adrenaline that helped keep the memories at bay.
On his way back, he ran past a gated estate, running past manicured lawns and pristine houses. A dark thought crept into his mind, making him chuckle bitterly. "Beautiful houses always hide ugly secrets. Who knows which of these fancy homes belongs to the devil tearing this town apart with insurgency?"
By the time he returned, the sky had grown dark. The hours had slipped away in the rhythm of his footsteps and the pounding of his heart. His phone buzzed in his pocket, pulling him from his thoughts.
"Yes, sir," he answered without hesitation. There was a brief pause as he listened to the voice on the other end. "Understood. I'll be there."
The mission was about to begin.
---