Elizabeth
The moment I stepped inside, a familiar certainty washed over me—he was there. I couldn’t hear him. I couldn’t see him. But the atmosphere shifted. It felt heavier, colder, as if every shadow had sprouted fangs. My heels clicked on the tile as I made my way into the living room, and there he stood.
My father.
Alive.
Waiting.
He leaned against the window, arms crossed, his face a mask of unreadable emotions—but the tempest brewing in his eyes spoke volumes.
“I saw you.”
His voice was flat, under control, yet laced with an unsettling chill.
“Outside. With him.”
I didn’t flinch. I didn’t utter a word. But inside, my stomach knotted itself into tight coils.
“You’re getting weak, Elizabeth.”
Finally, I raised my gaze to meet him.
“I’m not.”
His eyes narrowed, scrutinizing.
“I raised you better than this.”
“You didn’t raise me,” I shot back, the words escaping before I could think. “You trained me. You forged me into a weapon. There’s a world of difference.”
Silence enveloped us. The kind of silence that made your heartbeat echo in your ears.
He stepped closer.
“You can’t afford attachments. You know that. I have taught you that. And yet…”
His head tilted ever so slightly. “You’re letting your guard down. He makes you soft.”
I held his gaze, icy and unyielding.
“I’m still the best asset you’ve ever created. I can handle the mission.”
“You better,” he warned, his tone grave. “Because if you fall apart now, there’s no coming back. They’ll own you, break you. Or worse—use you.”
I remained silent.
Instead, I brushed past him and made my way upstairs, leaving the conversation hanging in the air, heavy and unresolved.
In the silence of my bedroom, I sank to the edge of the bed.
My hands were trembling.
I stared at them. He wasn’t wrong, but he wasn’t right, either. Noah didn’t make me soft. He made me feel.
And maybe that was dangerous… but for the first time in years, it also made me feel human.
I curled beneath the covers. Eyes wide open.
Sleep didn’t come easily.
But when it did, it came with his voice in my ear and the weight of guilt coiled around my chest like a vice.
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The sun broke through the curtains, and I was already up. Showered. Staring into my closet like it held the answers to all the things I didn’t want to admit I was feeling.
Mary and Lillian burst in like a hurricane of heels and chaos.
“Okay, what do we have here?” Mary said, diving into my closet before I could stop her.
“This is a meet-the-parents moment, not a kill-the-target moment,” Lillian added with a wicked grin.
“I’m regretting this already,” I muttered.
Lillian appeared holding up a soft forest green wrap dress.
“Try this. It says ‘I’m polite and pretty’ but also ‘I could seduce your son under the table if I wanted to.’”
I shot her a look. Mary wiggled her eyebrows.
“She’s not wrong.”
“I just want to make a good impression,” I said quietly.
Mary stilled.
“You actually like him.”
I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. Because the truth was loud in my chest, and I was trying to bury it.
My father’s words echoed again—weak, soft, compromised.
I pulled on the dress. Looked at myself in the mirror.
Lillian stepped up behind me and gently adjusted my hair, smoothing it down with a brush.
“You don’t have to be anyone else tonight,” she said. “Just be you.”
“Yeah,” Mary added from the bed, twirling a lipstick between her fingers.
“The version of you that kicks ass and still somehow makes Noah Bennett look like a lovesick idiot.”
That made me smile. Barely. But it was real.
Still, I could feel it creeping in—doubt, guilt, fear.
The mission was coming. The danger. My father’s voice. My own reflection.
But underneath it all…
So was he.
And somehow, that made everything harder.
Because I wanted it.
This night.
Him.
Even if I knew I shouldn’t.