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All it took was one night. One night to lose everything she had ever had, one night to lose everything she had ever wanted, one night to lose everything she had ever wished for, and one night to lose what she thought she had. In all, all it took was one night to render her a completely lifeless human—a breathing mannequin. Now, she was seated at a bar, in the literal arms of a stranger who had shown up in time to stop her from completely losing her mind.
The morning breeze came in through the open window, making the thin curtains flutter and sending its slight chill across the small room. This chill, slight as it was, was enough to cause the young, frail woman lying on the bed—the only furniture in the room—to shiver, despite being covered and protected by a thick blanket. Her small shoulders shook, her fingers trembled, her toes curled underneath the blanket, and her teeth chattered while her eyes watered.
The breeze and chill, fortunately, left as suddenly as they came, and the woman considerably calmed. Her shaking and trembling stopped, and she shut her eyes, letting the hot tears that had gathered fall, slide across her face, and sink into the pillow her head rested on. A sigh of relief—it seemed like a sigh of relief—escaped her lips as she rolled over to lie on her side, facing the open window and the fluttering curtains.
As usual, she had no idea when that window had been opened or who had opened it. It had always been like this since that night. She had no idea where she was; heck, she didn't even know who she was right now. All she knew was that she was here, alone, under the hand of a very powerful man who, as expected, she had no idea about.
She had been here for so long—maybe days, weeks, months, she had no idea. But she had been here long enough to know that things would not be so peaceful given who she was... or who she used to be. This was not only a sign that she had indeed lost everything; it was also a sign that she was now under someone's wing—either to be protected or to be used as a shield.
Her empty eyes drifted across the room, landing on the very obvious camera at the top. Her every move was being watched, she knew that, which was why, up until now, she had done nothing to free herself. But now… wasn't it high time she gave her audience a good show?
In another room, far, far away from the small room, a group of men was gathered, their eyes glued to the screens used to monitor the woman they had taken. They were all clothed in black, and solemn expressions adorned each of their faces. They seemed to not be breathing, their eyes only moving when the person they monitored moved. At a glance, one would think that their lives depended on that one woman they had been tasked to watch.
That thought wasn't entirely wrong. Their lives actually depended on that woman's movements. So one could imagine their shock when the woman, who hadn't moved, eaten, or drunk anything for the last month, got up from her small bed, ran to the open window like a crazed woman, and let herself drop like a rock.
How beautiful of a morning it was for them!
At once, in panic, they jumped from their seats and ran out of their little surveillance room to try to save the woman they had been tasked to watch. It would have been less worrisome if she had jumped from a building with a few stories—they would only have to deal with a few broken bones—but she had jumped off the tallest building in the entire city. If a miracle did not happen, her death would be inevitable, and that would make their deaths inevitable.
Meanwhile, outside the building, a sleek black car was parked by the side of the road next to a signpost that read: "NO PARKING, NO STOPPING" in bright red ink. Two men were seated in the car, one behind the wheel and one in the rear seat. Half of the face of the one behind the wheel was illuminated by the gentle morning sunlight, which eventually illuminated his whole face as he lowered his head a little just to be sure the sight before him was real and that he wasn't imagining it.
"You're seeing this too, right?" he asked the man seated in the rear seat, whispering for no reason. When he did not get a response from his partner, he turned to look behind him only to see the man he was talking to suppressing his laugh while watching the very same thing he found really shocking.
"Axelrod?" Xavier had to call because he wasn't even sure if they were both thinking the same thing.
The scene before them was of the woman they had brought to this building—the frail woman whom they had thought would die from depression and devastation, the same woman they had gone out of their way to pray and hope would live—hanging and holding on to the short iron bars of the last floor with her fair legs dangling in the air.
Barely two minutes passed before both men witnessed a group of about a hundred men, tall and bulky, running out of the building in an attempt to save the young missus before she could fall to her death. Only to witness her climbing up the iron bars and flipping over them before landing effortlessly on the other side. She looked down at the shocked men, waved, and turned around, her long hair floating in the wind behind her before entering the room like nothing had happened.
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