Captivated By My Captor

Mr Morgan

A middle-age man sat alone in the dimly lit room, his tall frame rigid against the high - backed leather chair. Silver streaks ran through his neatly combed black hair, and a faint scar cut across his left eyebrows, giving his sharp features an even more intimidating edge. His dark eyes - cold, calculating and merciless - remained fixed on the cell phone clenched in his head. The tailored black suit he wore was flawless, but the tension in his jaw betrayed the violence simmering beneath his calm exterior.

The call ended.

For a heartbeat, the room was silent.

Then he slammed the phone onto the desk. The sharp c***k echoed as papers slid and a pen rolled to the floor. His fingers curled slowly, knuckles whitening, while his chest rose and fell in measured, angry breaths.

Near the door, his assistant stood stiffly, shoulder drawn tight sweat dampered his collar, and he lowered his gaze, afraid to meet those eyes. The silence pressed on his until it felt unbearable.

" Mr Morgan", he said at last, his voice barely steady.

"What are your next steps ?"

Mr Morgan lifted his head with deliberate slowness. When his eyes met the assistant.

"You will inform everyone to remain on high alert" , Mr Morgan said.

His tone held no anger - only certainty.

"No mistakes. No hesitation" .

He leaned forward slightly, resting his palm on the desk.

"She must be eliminated ", he continued. A pause. "As soon as possible ".

"Yes sir", the assistant replied quickly, nodding too fast. Relief flickered across his face as he turned towards the door. But doubt - or desperation - made him stop.

"Sir", he said hesitantly, fingers tightening around the door handle.

"Wouldn't it be safe if we just handled it quietly ". "Maybe we could -"

" Get out "

The words were soft, almost calm, yet they sliced through the air like a blade. The room felt in a silent.

"Yes- yes, sir ", the assistant stammered. He didn't look back and rushed out and shut the door.

Alone once more, Mr Morgan straightened. He stared at the desk, at the place where the phone had struck, his reflection in the polished surface. His anger cooled, setting into something darker. If she had survived once, it meant she is capable and stronger than expected. That only make her more dangerous.

He stood abruptly and picked up the phone again. His movement were calm now, precise. He dialled an unfamiliar number.

The call was answered after a single ring.

"Yes", come a voice devoid of emotion.

Mr Morgan inhaled slowly. "Sir" he said evenly, "I regret to inform you....she is still alive".

A brief silence followed, thick with unspoken consequences.

"Hm"

The line went dead.

Mr Morgan lowered the phone. his lips tightening into a thin, grim line. Somewhere out there she was breathing. And soon - one way or another - that would end.

The hunt has truly began.

.....

Somewhere in a war zone, a man stood at the edge of a ruined outpost, gazing into the vast stretch of land ahead of him. Smoke curled in the sky and distant explosion echoed like fading thunder. He remained there for along time, unmoving as if chaos around him did not exist.

Soft footsteps approached from behind.

"General ", a voice said cautiously.

"Here are the details and information".

The man turned slowly his face was hardened by year of battle his eyes sharp and unreadable. He accepted the file without a word.

Printed boldly across the cover were the words

"AGENT 01"

He opened the file going through the content on it.

His expression did not change and after a moment he closed the file.

Lowering his voice, almost to a whisper almost carried away by the mind.

He said a single name

"Ava Cross "

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