Elera Winslow's POV
The first week in Ridgeview had been exhausting. Tasked with dismantling an international crime syndicate smuggling priceless artifacts through museums, my team had been preparing for tonight's strike since the day we arrived. The newly inaugurated Crownridge Museum of Antiquities was their latest target, and we couldn't afford a single mistake.
The museum was bustling, its grand halls filled with patrons marveling at the rare artifacts on display. Disguised as tourists, my team moved through the exhibits, our sharp eyes scanning the crowd for signs of trouble.
"Positions," Ethan's voice crackled in my earpiece, calm yet commanding. He had a way of steadying me, no matter how chaotic things got. "We move in five."
I took a deep breath, letting the familiar rush of adrenaline steady my nerves. Every step brought us closer to the target. My team moved with precision, the years of training evident in every motion. The hum of voices and the glint of priceless artifacts faded into the background.
Then the signal came.
In an instant, our disguises were cast aside. The museum erupted into chaos as we moved to intercept the smugglers. My heart pounded as I weaved through the chaos, every sense on high alert. My team worked like a well-oiled machine, taking down operatives with practiced efficiency.
And then I saw him.
Soren Blackwood.
His presence hit me like a punch to the gut. Standing near an exhibit, he looked just as commanding as he had years ago. Time had not softened his sharp features or the piercing intensity of his gaze.
Memories crashed into me with the force of a tidal wave: the warmth of our wedding day, the cold betrayal of discovering his affair with Leona, the devastating accident that shattered my world, and the day I signed the divorce papers, severing the last tie to the life I once knew.
Hatred burned in my chest, raw and unyielding. Yet I couldn't let it distract me. The mission came first.
I forced my focus back to the task at hand. We subdued the smugglers one by one, securing the scene as the police arrived to take over. The mission was a success. Or at least it was until the parking lot.
We were making our way to The Wraith—our unmarked SUV—when his voice shattered the fragile calm I had constructed.
"Anna, wait!"
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Soren Blackwood 's POV
She was here.
I hadn't believed it at first. Amid the chaos of the museum, I thought my mind was playing tricks on me. But it wasn't. She was here, alive.
Anna Gray.
The woman I betrayed and lost.
The moment I saw her, the world around me faded. It was her. The way she moved, the fire in her eyes, it was unmistakable. But she wasn't the same. She was sharper, harder, as if life had carved her into someone new.
I couldn't let her leave. Not again.
"Anna, wait!" I called, my voice raw with urgency.
Her team tensed immediately, their weapons raised, their postures defensive. A tall man stepped forward, blocking my path with a menacing glare. "Sir, step back. This is a restricted area."
"She's someone I know," I said firmly, my eyes locked on her.
The man didn't budge. "You're mistaken. Move along."
"Ethan," her voice cut through the tension, calm but commanding. "Let him through."
Ethan hesitated but stepped aside. I took the opportunity to close the distance, my gaze never leaving hers.
"It's you," I said, the words catching in my throat. "You're Anna Gray."
Her expression was unreadable, her eyes cold and unflinching. "Anna Gray is dead," she said, her voice like ice. "My name is Elera Winslow."
The name was foreign, unfamiliar, but I couldn't accept it. "You can call yourself whatever you want, but I know you," I said, my voice softer now. "You're my wife."
Her jaw tightened, and for a moment, I thought I saw something flicker in her eyes—pain, maybe anger. But then it was gone.
"Your wife died the day you betrayed her," she said, her words cutting through me like a blade. "I am not the woman you remember."
I wanted to argue, to tell her she was wrong, but the look in her eyes stopped me. This was not the Anna I had once known. She was someone else entirely, someone forged by pain and loss.
"Elera," Ethan's voice interrupted, sharp and urgent. "We need to go."
She turned without another word, her team falling into step behind her.
"Anna, please!" I called after her, desperation thick in my voice.
She didn't look back.
***************
Elera Winslow's POV
The silence in The Wraith was deafening. The city blurred past the windows as we sped away, but my thoughts were anything but calm.
Ethan finally broke the tension, his voice carefully measured. "Want to explain who that was?"
"It's nothing," I said curtly, keeping my gaze fixed on the passing buildings.
"Nothing doesn't usually shout your name in a parking lot," he replied, his tone tinged with curiosity.
I clenched my fists, the memories of Soren's face still fresh in my mind. "It's in the past," I said flatly. "It doesn't matter anymore."
Ethan didn't look convinced. "He seemed pretty sure it does."
I exhaled sharply, trying to rein in my emotions. "He's just someone I used to know," I said, the words bitter on my tongue.
Ethan didn't press further, but his silence was weighted with unspoken questions.
As the city lights flickered outside, I couldn't shake the weight of Soren's gaze. He had looked at me like he was searching for something, redemption, perhaps, or a second chance. But those doors were closed.
Still, the question gnawed at me: Why now? Why here?
I stared out into the darkness, the hum of the vehicle a steady reminder of the mission ahead. But no matter how hard I tried to focus, the storm inside me raged on.