The night's stillness wrapped around the estate like a shroud, disturbed only by the soft rustling of leaves and the distant hum of the security perimeter. The moon hung low, casting silver streaks over the manicured gardens, turning the estate into a serene yet deceptive picture of calm.
Kaliah stood in the library, surrounded by the scent of leather-bound books and aged parchment. The soft glow of the fireplace illuminated the room, but the warmth didn't reach her. She absently traced her fingers along the spines of the volumes lining the shelves, her mind spinning with questions she couldn't outrun. Her fingertips brushed over a worn history tome, its cover cracked with age. A memory tugged at her, too faint to fully grasp.
"You're restless."
Ilian's voice broke through the silence, smooth and steady. She turned slowly to find him standing at the entrance, his figure framed by the dim lighting. He wasn't dressed for command tonight—no tailored jacket, no air of invincibility. Just a simple, open-collared black shirt, his sleeves rolled to his forearms, revealing the intricate tattoos that curved along his skin. His hair was slightly mussed, a rare vulnerability slipping through the cracks of his usual composure.
Kaliah crossed her arms, leaning against the bookshelf. "Shouldn't you be resting too?"
He gave a soft, humorless chuckle and stepped inside. "I could say the same to you." His gaze wandered over her face, searching for something unspoken. "But I can tell—tonight's not the kind of night where sleep comes easily."
She exhaled slowly and looked away, her thoughts clouded. "I found something earlier... something I wasn't expecting."
Ilian approached slowly, giving her space but making it clear she had his full attention. "What is it?"
Kaliah hesitated before reaching into the side pocket of her jacket. She pulled out a small, faded photograph—its edges worn, its colors dulled by time. She handed it to Ilian, who accepted it carefully, his brows furrowing as he examined the image.
The photo depicted a man and a woman standing beneath a tree, their smiles warm and unguarded. The man had thick, dark curls and a strong, regal posture. The woman's eyes were a shade of blue that matched Kaliah's, and her laughter seemed to echo through the paper itself. In her arms, she held a small, swaddled infant.
Ilian's gaze darted to Kaliah. "Your parents."
She nodded, her throat tightening. "I think so. I don't... remember them. But I found this hidden in a file Kane kept locked away."
Ilian's expression darkened at the mention of Kane's name. "Why would he have this?"
"That's the question, isn't it?" Her voice was sharp, laced with bitterness. "Why would the man who raised me like a soldier have a photo of the life I was supposed to have?"
Ilian handed the photo back gently, his fingertips brushing hers. "Maybe he kept it as a reminder. Or maybe..." He hesitated, considering his words carefully. "Maybe he kept it as leverage."
Kaliah scoffed, slipping the photo into her pocket. "I wouldn't put it past him. Everything Kane touches turns into a weapon."
Ilian stepped closer, his voice low but unwavering. "Have you thought about what this could mean? If they were connected to the Syndicate in some way?"
She nodded slowly. "That's what terrifies me."
The weight of her admission settled between them. Ilian's hand rested on the edge of the bookshelf beside her, close enough that she could feel the warmth radiating from his skin.
"Tell me what you're thinking," he urged gently.
Kaliah closed her eyes for a moment, steadying herself. "For as long as I can remember, Kane told me I had no family. That he saved me from a life of nothingness. But if that's a lie... if my parents were involved in something bigger—something dangerous—it changes everything." She opened her eyes, her gaze locking with his. "It means I've been living someone else's story."
Ilian's jaw tightened as he absorbed her words. "You deserve to know the truth, Kaliah. Whatever it is."
"And what if the truth destroys what's left of me?" she asked, her voice breaking.
Ilian didn't hesitate. He reached out and gently placed his hand over hers, his thumb brushing her knuckles. "Then you let someone help you rebuild."
The softness in his voice unraveled something in her. She stared at their hands, at the way his touch grounded her when everything else felt like it was falling apart. Slowly, she looked up into his storm-gray eyes and found no judgment, only steady, unwavering patience.
"Kaliah," he said softly. "You've been carrying this alone for so long. You don't have to anymore."
Her breath shuddered as she exhaled. "I don't even know how to let someone in."
"You've already started." His voice was barely above a whisper, yet it carried the weight of certainty.
Tears welled in her eyes, but she blinked them back, refusing to break. She hated how vulnerable she felt in front of him, yet it was Ilian's presence—the calm assurance in his touch—that made her feel seen rather than exposed.
He stepped even closer, his hand cupping her cheek with a tenderness that took her breath away. "You don't have to be strong every second of the day."
Her resolve crumbled beneath his touch. "It's all I've ever known."
"Then it's time you learned something else."
The space between them vanished as Ilian's lips brushed hers, soft at first—like a question. But when she didn't pull away, his kiss deepened, slow and deliberate, as though he were memorizing every second. Kaliah's hands slid up his chest, her fingers curling into his shirt as she let herself sink into the moment.
Time seemed to suspend itself. The warmth of his touch, the gentle scrape of his stubble against her skin, the quiet sound of their breaths mingling—it was unlike anything she'd ever known. For the first time in years, she felt something break open inside her: something fragile but alive.
When they finally pulled apart, Ilian rested his forehead against hers, their breathing uneven.
"I'm scared," she admitted, her voice barely audible.
"So am I," he confessed. "But we don't have to be alone in this."
The vulnerability in his voice struck her deeper than any declaration of love ever could. She nodded slowly, her heart pounding. "Then we find out the truth together."
He pulled back just enough to look her in the eyes. "No matter what we uncover."
"No matter what."
A quiet resolve settled between them. Whatever secrets lay ahead, whatever ghosts from the past threatened to resurface, they would face it side by side.
Ilian brushed a strand of hair from her face, his thumb lingering on her cheekbone. "You've survived so much, Kaliah. But maybe... it's time you started living."
Her lips curved into the faintest smile. "Maybe."
The fire crackled softly behind them, the only sound in the room as the world outside drifted away. In that quiet moment, Kaliah allowed herself to believe that maybe, just maybe, she wasn't destined to be a weapon forever.
The past wasn't finished with her. But for the first time, the future didn't feel like a battlefield—it felt like a choice.10Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ9RvVJkuMzq
