His gaze flicked to Noah, just for an instant. And in that fleeting moment, I realized: he understood exactly what I meant.
And it terrified him. Suddenly, smoke erupted at his feet—an emergency escape protocol.
“No—!” I lunged forward, but it was too late. The smoke consumed him, and by the time it dissipated, he was gone.
Again.
Gone like the lie he crafted. Like the life he tried to imprison me within. I stood there, trembling, gun lowered now, my breath coming in shallow, ragged gasps. Noah stepped beside me, keeping his distance—just a quiet presence.
“You didn’t shoot,” he said softly.
“I couldn’t,” I whispered, the truth hanging heavy between us.
He nodded once, understanding clear in his eyes.
“Because you’re not what he made you.”
I looked at him then—truly looked. His eyes burned bright with fierce tenderness, his jaw set with adrenaline yet softened by understanding, and in that moment, something deep within me finally settled.
I wasn’t my father’s creation.
I was me.
---- ??? ----
The smoke had begun to dissipate, yet its heaviness lingered, trapped deep in my lungs. My hands felt steady, and my legs held me firm beneath me. But within, I was fracturing. He was gone. After everything—the words exchanged, the way I had kept him in my sights while refusing to become the very person he molded me into—he still slipped through my fingers.
Reinforcements arrived mere minutes later, their boots pounding the ground, guns drawn, orders echoing in the stillness. But none of it reached me.
Not until Adonis stepped into the room.
He moved with purpose, scanning the chaos with the keen eyes of a soldier, deciphering the blood, the bodies, and the static hum of the servers behind me.
Then his gaze found me.
“Liz.”
I lifted my head slowly.
Noah stood beside me, quiet and unreadable. I appreciated his presence—he granted me space without truly leaving me alone.
“We’ve secured the site,” Adonis said, urgency lacing his words. “What the hell happened here?”
Noah answered, his voice steady and calm.
“It was him. Her father. He’s not just involved… he’s the mastermind behind it all.”
Adonis blinked in disbelief. “He was what?”
I turned to face him completely. The words no longer stung; they fell from my lips like simple truths.
“He’s the architect of the entire network. The smuggling, the disappearances, the technology… it’s all his doing. He wasn’t just lurking in the shadows—he’s been orchestrating the whole operation. Funding black ops under false flags, staging attacks, manipulating information as leverage.”
Adonis looked as though I had just struck him in the chest.
“That can’t be true. Your father was cleared—he was—”
“He was a ghost,” I interjected. “He pretended to align with our side while constructing something far more sinister right under our noses. And it only gets worse.”
