My life has been pretty quiet since we left. It's been two years now since I left home. Two long years filled with moments that were both liberating and exhausting. From living with Azee and her sheikh to the unfortunately extravagant banquets I had to endure with Cassie, I've finally found some semblance of peace.
Now, I'm settled in a small village tucked away from the chaos of my past. At first, it was awkward—this place truly lives up to the "small village" stereotype, where everyone knows everyone. My arrival was the gossip of the town for over a month. It wasn't just that I was new; it was also because I'm a single mother with two adorable, yet lively, children.
Sebastian and Scarlett are growing up so fast, and I'm proud of them. Even though I've made mistakes along the way, I see their little smiles and know I'm doing something right. Sebastian has always been the calm one, even as a baby. Scarlett, on the other hand, is more of a firecracker—full of energy and quick to throw a tantrum when things don't go her way. I love them both equally, but I can't deny how Sebastian sometimes reminds me of his father. There's something about his quiet demeanor, the way his eyes hold a certain wisdom beyond his years, that brings Alexander's image to mind.
I try not to dwell on those memories. I hate admitting it, even to myself, but I miss him sometimes. His presence, his strength, even the way he could infuriate me. After everything, I know I shouldn't. I've trained for years to be strong, to never let a man control or define me. Yet, there are nights when I lie awake, my body craving things I dare not name. It's embarrassing to even think about it. I have to remind myself who I am and what I stand for.
"Thinking of him?"
The voice startles me out of my reverie. My head snaps toward the window where I see her—Rose, clad in her usual black attire, perched on the window sill like a shadow brought to life.
"Can't you use the door like a normal person?" I mutter, turning back to my children, who are wriggling in their pajamas as I try to get them ready for bed.
Rose doesn't answer right away. Instead, I hear the soft thud of her boots hitting the floor as she drops into the room. When I glance up, she's smirking, her lips curled like a Cheshire cat's. She saunters toward me, her hips swaying in that infuriatingly confident way of hers. There's an air of danger about her, a kind of raw, unyielding power that makes her seem otherworldly.
It's hard to believe that this is the same girl my mother brought back after that highly classified mission years ago. Even now, the details of that mission remain shrouded in secrecy. Not even my team knows what really happened. All I know is that Rose is dangerous—deadly, even—and that no one commands her. Not even my mother, who is feared and respected in equal measure.
I still remember the day they brought her back. My sisters and I had been so excited to welcome Mother home after her long absence. But when we arrived at the airstrip, we were met with something straight out of a nightmare.
The first thing we saw was the cage. A massive, reinforced steel structure that looked more suited for housing a wild beast than a person. It rattled and swayed as it was lowered from the plane, the heavy chains clinking ominously in the air. I remember the way Mother's guards shouted at everyone to clear the area, dragging her back as if even she wasn't safe.
They had snipers stationed all around, their rifles trained on the cage. I overheard one of the guards muttering about the sedatives loaded into the bullets—potent enough to bring down an elephant. My sisters and I were hurried away before we could get too close, but I'll never forget what I saw.
The cage bent outward. Not just the bars—it was the entire structure, groaning and creaking under the force of whatever was inside. For one terrifying moment, I thought it would snap open. The guards aimed their weapons, ready to fire, and that's when I realized they weren't just being cautious. They were afraid.
The base went into lockdown for a week after that. My sisters and I were confined to our rooms, forbidden from even stepping into the hallways. We were given access to the TV—a rare treat—but even that grew dull after days of waiting. None of us knew what was happening, and the secrecy only made it worse.
When the lockdown finally ended, I saw her for the first time. Rose. She looked so…normal, yet so wrong at the same time. Her eyes were sharp, almost predatory, and she moved with an unsettling grace that reminded me of a panther. A small part of me was terrified of her—and if I'm being honest, I still am.
Now, years later, she's standing in my room, smirking like she owns the place. And maybe she does, in her own way.
"You were thinking of him," she says, her tone light but laced with knowing.
"I wasn't," I reply sharply, though I know it's a lie.
Rose chuckles, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed. "You can't fool me. I see the way your face changes when you're lost in thought. You miss him, don't you?"
I don't answer. Instead, I focus on Scarlett, smoothing down her unruly curls as she squirms under my touch. Rose doesn't press the issue, but her presence lingers, like a shadow that refuses to fade.
As much as she unnerves me, I'm glad she's on my side. She may be my friend, but I know what she's capable of. I've heard the stories—the whispers about her missions, the ones only my mother is authorized to assign. I pity anyone who ends up on her target list. Rose isn't just a fighter; she's a force of nature. And as much as I hate to admit it, there's a comfort in knowing she's here, watching over me and my children.
"Get some rest," Rose says finally, her voice softening. "You've got enough on your plate without carrying the weight of old memories."
I nod, even though I know sleep won't come easily tonight. As Rose slips out the window and disappears into the night, I can't help but wonder if she's right. Maybe it's time to let go of the past. But as I tuck my children into bed and kiss their foreheads, I feel the familiar ache in my chest. Some memories are harder to leave behind than others.
And some, I fear, will haunt me forever.
I miss him—more than words can capture. The thought of him out there, possibly with another woman, living his life while I'm stuck here clutching memories of his smile, his touch, his voice… it's unbearable. I let out a frustrated sigh, willing myself to stop the endless loop of thoughts that have been plaguing me for weeks, maybe months.
This isn't healthy. I know that. Yet, no matter how much I try to convince myself to let go, something keeps pulling me back.
I remember a conversation I had once with one of Mother's sisters—her doctor. It was after I'd just given birth, during one of those long, quiet moments when she'd been helping me recover. She'd shared a story of her own, one that I now find hauntingly relatable.
"I was on a mission," she'd said, her hands gentle yet firm as she worked. "It was one of those whirlwind things where everything aligns, and you meet someone who seems like they've been written into your story. That's how I met Lucia's dad. He was… an enigma. The kind of man you couldn't fully understand but couldn't bear to let go of either. And, well… I never truly did."
Her words had lingered in my mind long after she left the room.
"It's okay if you want to leave," she'd added, her tone soft but resolute. "As much as we owe to the family, you still deserve to look for happiness. You're not selfish for wanting that."
At the time, her words felt distant, almost irrelevant. But now? Now they feel like a lifeline, a whisper of permission I didn't know I needed.
And yet, here I am, stuck in the past. Stuck with these memories of Alex. I can't seem to stop myself, even when I know how this looks—how I look. Psycho. Obsessive. Desperate. Maybe I am all those things.
I've been keeping tabs on Alex. Stalking, really. Not out of malice, but because I need to know. I need to know what his life looks like now before the time comes for me to hand Sebastian over to him.
It's all for Sebastian's sake. That's what I keep telling myself. But deep down, I know it's not the whole truth.
As I fall asleep I imagine going back to him. As the Americans say, the white picket fence, children and the pet dog. I imagine it all knowing I won't be getting it.