"The shrill ring of the landline cut through the quiet like a blade."
Amy opened her eyes without a blink. Instinct, not surprise. It was still dark that silver drenched hour between night and morning where secrets were traded and bodies disappeared into ash. The room around her was still warm with the breath of another. Ellie, tangled in sheets, bare back rising and falling in slow rhythm beside her.
Amy didn't move immediately she looked at Ellie.
That profile, that mouth. You're dangerous, she thought. You look too much like her. Then, without sound, she slipped from beneath the sheets.
She dressed in silence, pulling on her black trousers, her high, collared shirt, and the leather holster hidden in the closet's false back. She paused at her desk and opened the drawer.
The photo was still there. Faded, soft around the edges. Her step-sister was smiling in the rain, soaked in blue cotton and barefoot, laughing like the world had never hurt her. Amy's jaw clenched. She slid the picture into the breast pocket of her coat and headed to the landline.
It rang again once, sharply. She picked up
"Talk."
A breath, then a voice she trusted.
"It's done. The girl from the cell she's dead."
A pause.
Boss... it wasn't clean. She bit her tongue off. There was blood everywhere. No scream just... death. You need to see it.
Amy closed her eyes. Where?
Behind Warehouse 17 the old clearing. I'm coming.
She hung up. No goodbye no glance back.
But as she reached the estate's side door something made her hesitate.
Ellie, still asleep her body curled toward the empty space she thought Amy would still fill.
She lingered for a second, maybe less, then she was gone. The sun had not yet risen, mist hung low catching the light of the truck lamps that illuminated the edge of the forest. The scent of gasoline, damp soil and fresh blood filled the clearing. Amy stepped out of her car, boots sinking slightly into the mud. Her men parted wordlessly. They knew when silence was safer than loyalty spoken aloud. The girl was laid out on a makeshift pyre of wood, cloth, and kerosene-soaked branches. Her body was wrapped tightly in a linen sheet but her face remained uncovered.
It was a young face too young. Pale even in death, her mouth slightly open the blood that had spilled from it now a crusted stain against her chin and neck. Amy didn't ask how it happened she crouched, her eyes locked on the face of the girl who'd been sent to end her but took something far more precious instead.
Her mouth twitched, but only for a second there was no room here for grief only execution.
She never said a word,one of her guards muttered, half a step back. Refused food, barely blinked then this morning, she was just... gone.
Amy didn't respond Instead she reached into her coat and retrieved the photo. Her step-sister's face, that laugh.The image had survived fire, floods, raids. Until now. Amy stood, took a match from the silver box in her pocket lit it, watched the flame dance for a moment against the wind.
She touched the match to the edge of the pyre.
Flames caught fast, rising with a crackle and hiss that sounded too close to a scream. Smoke billowed, thick and black. She held the photo at her side, her fingers trembling now not from fear, from release. A long, still breath left her lungs then she threw the picture into the heart of the fire, ash flew up, swallowed and Amy for the first time in years turned away from it.
Ellie woke slowly, the warmth of the bed lulling her for a moment. She stretched a hand across the sheets and felt nothing. The space beside her was cold, her brows drew together as her eyes blinked open. The room was drenched in morning light, filtered through gauzy curtains. The air smelled faintly of cedar and something else leather and woodsmoke but Amy was gone. No note, no kiss on her forehead just... emptiness.
She sat up, pulling the sheets around her like armor. Her thighs ached not painfully, but insistently from the night before. A smile tugged at her lips, despite the mood. She looked around the room, clothes folded neatly on the chair. A robe over the bedpost. A silver tray with water, fruit and two small espresso cups, untouched.
You left me in your bed like I was a secret, Ellie thought. I don't like being someone's secret. She slipped into the robe and padded barefoot through the hall. The mansion was silent, like it had been carved from the hush itself. Everything gleamed old money, old wounds. The kitchen was empty, save for the faint sound of the per-colator. Ellie poured herself a cup of rich, strong coffee and perched on the edge of the marble island, one knee drawn up, eyes scanning the garden outside.
She could've left. But she didn't. Hours passed, slowly, deliberately. When Amy returned, it was through the front entrance; heavy boots on dark hardwood, the scent of smoke and rain clinging to her coat. Ellie was already standing at the top of the stairs, arms folded, one brow raised. "You left me in your bed," she said, her voice low and unflinching.
Amy looked up at her, her face unreadable.
"I don't like being left alone," Ellie continued, descending one step at a time. Don't do that again. She didn't ask where Amy had gone, Amy didn't offer it. The marble steamed, Ellie's skin against Amy's back was a new kind of fire.
She didn't say anything else, just let her hands slide up along Amy's ribs, cupping her breasts from behind with soaked palms. Her thumbs brushed Amy's nipples, slow, deliberate strokes drawing a sharp inhale from Amy's lips. Still, Amy didn't move but Ellie did. Her mouth was everywhere at once; Amy's shoulder, the curve of her neck, the line just beneath her ear. Her tongue, bold and breathless, traced the tension in Amy's jaw as her hands slid lower. Amy's stomach clenched when Ellie's fingers grazed the top of her thighs. She was testing her. Ellie's right hand slid between Amy's legs, her fingers wet from steam and sin found Amy's clit, rubbing lazy circles that made Amy's knees stiffen. She leaned her forehead against the marble wall, fists curling. You're so wet for me, Ellie whispered, her voice soft but firm. You act like you don't need anyone but this; she pressed harder stroking Amy with a taunting rhythm, says otherwise. Amy's jaw tightened. She gritted her teeth through a moan, a sound dragged from her throat she couldn't choke down.
Ellie leaned in again, her teeth grazing Amy's shoulder. Let me take care of you... That was when Amy turned quick, forceful. Ellie barely had time to gasp before Amy shoved her gently but firmly against the wall, switching their positions. Her hand came around Ellie's throat not tight, just present and her mouth crashed against hers with heat that tasted like punishment and desire.
"You want to take care of me?" Amy's voice was dark, slick with power. That's not how this works, baby. Ellie's breath hitched, and Amy saw it how much she loved this, how much she needed it.
I disappear; Amy murmured, her voice gravel and heat against Ellie's cheek, and you chase me into fire? Then burn with me.
She dropped to her knees. The water dripped off Ellie's curves like worship. Amy's mouth found the slick heat between her thighs, tongue parting her folds, devouring her slowly, ruthlessly. Her hands spread Ellie wider, anchoring her hips against the wall. Ellie cried out, one hand gripping the edge of the built-in marble shelf above her, the other tangled in Amy's soaked locs. Amy sucked her clit hard, then slow then hard again. She didn't stop when Ellie's knees shook, she didn't stop when Ellie begged, she didn't stop even when Ellie whimpered her name like it was the only word she knew.
"A-Amy—fuck—"
That's when she slid two fingers inside her, deep, firm.
Ellie's body arched, Amy pressed her palm flat against Ellie's lower stomach and fucked her slow, then faster curling her fingers with precision. She watched every moan crawl up Ellie's throat, every quiver, every wet gasp.
You think you're in control? Amy growled, rising to her feet, her fingers still deep inside Ellie. She wrapped her arm around Ellie's back, lifted one of her legs up, and pinned it against the wall with her knee.She was fucking her now really fucking her one hand gripping her ass, the other driving inside her like she owned her body. Ellie was shaking, drenched, nails dragging down Amy's back.
You're mine when I say you are, Amy said, mouth pressed to Ellie's ear, and you don't get to play in the fire without burning. Ellie came with a strangled cry, her body clenching around Amy's fingers, trembling like thunder in the storm. Amy didn't stop until Ellie's forehead fell against her shoulder, limp, breathless, conquered and still, Amy held her safe, owned, burning.