Sable lay fast asleep, her bruises now tended, ribs tightly wrapped in fresh bandages. Across the room, bathed in the pale glow of the window light, Synn sat quietly—fingers dancing across the keyboard as lines of code flickered on the screen before her.
She scrolled through the file that had just landed in her inbox, eyes scanning the lines with practiced focus. Then her phone buzzed—a low hum slicing through the silence. She picked it up.
"I've sent over some files. I need it handled ASAP," came a woman's voice, cool and commanding.
"Got it," Synn replied.
"And bring Sable up to speed," the voice added before cutting off.
Synn lowered the phone slowly, then turned her gaze toward the bed—Sable was awake, eyes open, quietly watching her.
Synn rose from her seat and crossed the room, her boots echoing softly on the floor. She stopped beside the bed, eyes locked with Sable's. For a moment, neither of them spoke—just two storm fronts staring each other down.
"I think I deserve an explanation for yesterday," Synn said, her voice low but sharp.
Sable looked away, jaw tight. "What do you expect me to say?"
Synn scoffed, folding her arms. "Oh, I don't know… maybe a little gratitude? I risked my life dragging you out of that hellhole."
"Excuse me for going after the one person who slaughtered my family," Sable snapped, eyes flashing. "I didn't ask you to come for me anyway."
A cold laugh slipped from Synn's lips. "Wow. That's really nice to hear after I nearly got killed saving your stubborn ass. You know, if it weren't for the condition you're in right now, I'd be seriously tempted to shove my blade right through your damn throat."
The air grew thick. Heavy. The room went quiet—words lingering like smoke, both women held captive by the weight of all that wasn't being said.
"You're just so damn stubborn," Synn muttered, frustration lacing every word. "You're so blinded by revenge that you can't even think straight. One day, that obsession's gonna get you killed."
Sable's eyes burned as she turned to face her fully. "I lost everything, Synn," she said, voice hollow but sharp like broken glass. "Death doesn't scare me anymore. Whether I live or die—it's none of your business. It's not like you care. Isn't that what we were taught in this line of work? No attachments, no emotions."
Synn clenched her jaw, the pain in her chest rising like a tide. Her voice trembled, not with weakness but with weight. "I do care, Sable. If I didn't, I wouldn't have dragged myself through fire to get to you yesterday. Maybe the old me would've let you die and moved on—but I've seen too much death to stay numb."
She took a step closer, her eyes softening even as her voice stayed firm. "I told you about Ethan because I wanted you to know who destroyed your family—not to push you into suicide by vengeance. I never said we wouldn't go after him. But we need time. You can't take on someone like Ethan alone—he's ruthless, calculated. He doesn't blink before he pulls the trigger."
Synn's voice dropped, gentle but intense. "You were lucky yesterday. That's not gonna happen twice."
Sable didn't respond. Her expression unreadable, her body still. But Synn could feel it—the silence wasn't defiance. It was the quiet of someone finally listening, even if she couldn't say it out loud yet.
Sable's mind drifted, replaying the brutal clash with Ethan—the way his hits landed with precision, the cold calculation in his eyes. She wasn't ready for someone like him. Not yet.
"How much did he get out of you?" Synn's voice cut through her thoughts, calm but laced with tension.
Sable blinked, then met her gaze. "Nothing. I told him nothing."
Synn studied her face, searching for a crack in the claim.
"I'm serious," Sable said, her voice steady. "He got nothing out of me. He tried to inject some kind of serum to make me talk, but that's when you showed up."
Synn's expression darkened at the mention of the serum. She knew Ethan's methods—he preferred precision over pain, but he wasn't above either. The memory of past interrogations crept up, tightening her jaw.
"So… you didn't say anything? About us, the organization?"
Sable gave a slow nod. "Not a word."
Synn let out a quiet breath, her shoulders easing just slightly. "Good," she murmured. "That's good."
"There's a new target," Synn said, her tone shifting into that familiar, mission-focused calm. "He's a congressman… also a senator. We're to retrieve a file he's keeping close."
She glanced at Sable, a flicker of hesitation in her eyes. "You can sit this one out if you need to. Heal up properly. I've got it."
Sable's jaw tightened. "No. I'm coming."
She swung her legs over the side of the bed, teeth gritting as pain flared in her ribs. Still, she stood—slow, shaky, but determined.
Synn didn't argue. She just watched her with quiet understanding, masking the concern in her gaze with a subtle nod.
"Alright," she said. "Then we move at night fall."
She rose to her feet, steadying herself with a quiet breath. Together, they moved toward the desk where the computer waited—its screen casting a cold glow in the dim room.
Synn tapped the mouse, waking the device. A file opened, crisp and clear.
"His name is Bishop Wells," she said, her voice low and focused.
Sable leaned in, eyes narrowing as the image of a well-dressed man filled the screen.
With a few more clicks, Synn brought up another window—a detailed blueprint of a sprawling estate.
"His mansion," she added, pointing. "This is where the file's kept."
"Any idea what's in the file?" Sable asked, her gaze still fixed on the screen, curiosity laced beneath her calm tone.
Synn shook her head slightly. "I don't know," she said, her voice even, almost indifferent. "The order was clear—just retrieve it. Whatever's inside... it's not our concern."
She paused, then added with a shrug, "At least, that's what they want us to believe."
"We move soon," Synn said, her voice clipped, all business.
Sable began suiting up, strapping on her gear with practiced movements. "So… what do we know about this Bishop Wells?" she asked, glancing over her shoulder.
Synn gave her a look—half surprise, half disbelief.
"What?" Sable raised a brow. "Well, forgive me for not exactly keeping up with the headlines."
Synn sighed, tapping her fingers against the desk. "He's an attorney. The same guy going after O'Reilly Thrift in court—human trafficking, rape scandals, the whole mess."
Sable's eyes narrowed slightly, brows furrowing as the name clicked… vaguely.
Synn studied her expression. "Seriously? You haven't heard about that?" she asked, her tone riding the line between annoyed and amused.
Sable just shrugged. "Guess I've been a little… preoccupied."
It was 9:45 PM.
The street was hushed, dimly lit by the flicker of a faulty streetlamp overhead. Rain threatened in the clouds above, but hadn't yet touched down.
Inside the car, silence reigned.
Sable sat in the front passenger seat, arms crossed, fingers tapping idly against her thigh.
Synn gripped the wheel with a steady hand, her eyes fixed ahead, jaw tight—like she was chewing on a thought but refusing to let it slip.
The silence stretched until it nearly suffocated.
Then Sable exhaled sharply and muttered, "I don't know... shouldn't I be getting my own missions by now?"
Her voice wasn't loud. But it carried weight—resentment, hope, a touch of tired defiance.
Synn turned her head slowly, her gaze catching Sable's with quiet warning.
A pause.
Sable met her eyes and added, "I mean, I've been ready. You know that."
There was no anger, just that aching tension of someone who's been waiting too long in someone else's shadow.
Synn didn't respond at first. Just watched her, measured and cool.
Then finally, she looked away, flicking the key in the ignition without a word.
The engine hummed to life.
But the silence between them?
It said more than anything either of them could.
---
Waving off what Sable had just said, Synn shifted gears and drove on.
They'd been parked a few feet from Bishop's mansion, just observing… but something had made her uneasy. She pulled a little further down the block, tucking them into a darker stretch of road beneath a yawning tree.
Sable leaned her head slightly toward the window, watching the mansion fade into shadows behind them.
Then, with a dramatic sigh, she snapped, "Hellooo?"
Her tone was light, but it was loaded.
Synn didn't flinch. She just threw her a cold glance, the kind that didn't need words to say drop it.
Sable wasn't having it. "I said something just now."
Synn exhaled sharply through her nose, annoyed. "You know I'm not gonna comment on that."
She reached into the glove box and pulled out her binoculars, raising them to her eyes as she scanned the property in silence.
Her brows furrowed.
The gate was open—just barely, but enough to raise a red flag.
"Come on," Sable pressed, voice rising with stubborn fire. "I'm ready to do this."
Synn lowered the binoculars slowly, as if the weight of that claim was heavier than it sounded.
"No," she said, almost too calmly. "You're not."
She turned to face her fully now. "You don't think straight. You act on impulse. You let your emotions drive you—and in this line of work?"
She shook her head. "That's the kind of thing that gets you killed."
Sable's jaw clenched. She looked out the window, then back at Synn, frustration bubbling over. "I know what this is," she said, voice sharp with hurt. "You think you're protecting me. Like I'm still some rookie who needs your shadow to survive. But I don't need it."
Synn blinked, then laughed bitterly under her breath. "Yeah? Like you protected yourself at Ethan's?"
Her voice turned ice-cold. "He whooped your ass, Sable. And if I hadn't gotten there when I did, you'd be in a body bag right now."
That landed like a slap.
Synn leaned closer, eyes burning now. "So tell me—what happens when it's not Ethan next time? What if it's someone worse? Someone like Shadow, one of Ethan's own? You think they're gonna wait for you to find yourself mid-fight?"
Silence.
Only the sound of the engine humming and the tension thick enough to choke on.
Sable couldn't argue—because deep down, she knew Synn was right. Ethan hadn't hesitated. He broke her down with such ease, and she hated how helpless she'd been—strapped to that chair, inches away from a needle full of truth serum. The memory still left a bitter taste in her mouth.
Synn glanced at her, voice softening just a touch.
"Look, you'll get your mission. Just give it time. The day you can beat me in sparring without breaking a sweat? That's the day I'll say you're ready."
She threw Sable a small, knowing smile.
Sable just nodded, lips pressed tight. No smart comeback. No eye-roll. Just that quiet storm brewing beneath her skin.
Synn cracked her neck and leaned forward.
"Now, you keep watch for me while I head in."
"Wait—" Sable blinked. "I'm not going in with you?"
Synn was already checking the strap on her thigh holster.
"Someone's gotta watch the perimeter. If anything looks off, you radio me. Instantly."
Sable let out a sharp breath, frustration curling in her gut. She hated this feeling—being benched, like she was still the rookie on training wheels.
Synn swept her long dark hair up into a tight bun, slick and functional. No loose ends. Just like her.
She hooked her whip at her hip, then grabbed her revolver, calmly screwing the silencer into place. The click echoed like a promise in the quiet car.
She shot Sable a look.
"Stay put. I'll be back in a jiffy."
With that, the door clicked shut behind her, and the night swallowed her whole.
Sable sat in the passenger seat, her fingers drumming restlessly against the steering wheel.
Doing nothing had never felt so loud.
The clock on the dashboard read 10:28 PM. Synn had been gone a while—longer than expected. Maybe the file was harder to find than they'd thought. Still, she pushed away the anxiety clawing at her chest.
Synn can handle herself, she reminded herself.
She always does.
Her gaze never left the mansion. The night was too quiet. Still. The kind of still that made your instincts itch.
She kept scanning—left to right, mirror to mirror, street to rooftop.
Nothing.
And then—
BOOM!
The explosion ripped through the silence, a fiery blast lighting up the night sky as a shockwave rocked the car. Sable's heart stuttered. Her hands flew to the dash as the windshield trembled under the force.
"No… no—no! Synn!"
She threw the door open, her breath caught somewhere between her ribs and her throat. Smoke bled from the top floor of the mansion, flames licking out through shattered windows.
Her pulse thundered in her ears. She couldn't think. Couldn't move fast enough.
"Synn…" she whispered, voice cracking, barely above the roar of fire.
Everything inside her screamed to rush in—protocol be damned.
But what if it was too late?