Family Secret

Chapter 15

The academy loomed even larger at night. The ornate spires cut against the moonlit sky, gears within the clocktower grinding slowly, echoing across the courtyard. Where most saw a school, Nate saw obstacles—patrolling wardens, security enchantments woven into brass piping, and a labyrinth of polished halls.

And yet, to him, it was nothing more than another mission.

His reflection in the brass-paneled carriage window was already altered—thinner spectacles perched on his nose, his stubble gone, hair slicked neatly back with oil. He’d traded his usual tweed vest for the dull grey uniform jacket of a Star Academy instructor. The forged identification badge clipped to his pocket glinted faintly, the watermark shimmer indistinguishable from the real thing.

It wasn’t forged, not really. He’d lifted it earlier that evening while lurking in the teacher’s lounge. One sleight of hand, one murmured apology, and a badge slid neatly into his pocket before the instructor even noticed it was gone.

He entered through the rear gate, the badge flashing against the automaton sentry’s glass eye. The machine blinked green, hissing open the wrought-iron door without hesitation.

Inside, the air was thick with silence, the tick of the academy’s massive central clock the only sound. The corridors stretched long, polished wood and brass lanterns gleaming faintly. Nate moved like smoke—steps soundless, coat brushing lightly without a whisper.

He paused at each corner, eyes darting over his shoulder, ears straining. His instincts were honed sharper than any blade—he could sense the faintest breath out of place, the softest scrape of shoe leather.

Twice he ducked into alcoves as patrols passed, blending into the shadowed inlays of ornate armor displays. His pulse never rose, his breathing never quickened. For Steele, this was muscle memory.

The real problem was navigation. The academy was far more sprawling than he’d anticipated—endless halls of copper piping, staircases curling into towers, wings branching into wings. A lesser spy would’ve gotten lost.

Not him.

He pulled a folded slip of parchment from his pocket, traced faint lines of ink he’d copied from a map in the headmaster’s office weeks before. He counted steps, matched them with clock chimes, adjusted his course without hesitation.

At last, he reached a heavy oak door stamped with the crest of the Academy Board. A brass lock sealed it, humming faintly with a basic ward. Nate crouched, fingers pulling a slim tool from his boot. With delicate precision, he twisted the gears, counterbalanced the ward, and clicked—the lock gave way.

Inside, the room smelled of ink and old parchment. Filing cabinets lined the walls, each labeled meticulously. In the center stood a locked trunk bound in brass straps—the exam vault.

Nate allowed himself the faintest smirk. There it is.

He set to work. Out came a small vial of oil, a coil of wire, and a tension wrench. Each move was calm, practiced. To him, locks were puzzles begging to be solved. Within moments, the final tumbler clicked into place, the trunk creaking open.

Stacks of exams lay neatly inside, sealed in wax envelopes. Nate’s sharp eyes scanned the names, pausing when he reached the two that mattered—Ryan Atkins and Kyan Atkins.

His fingers hovered over the papers, ready to make the switch.

But something pulled at the back of his mind, a gnawing instinct he could never ignore. A shadow, faint, lingering in the stillness of the hall outside.

He wasn’t alone.

Nate straightened, sliding the envelope halfway into his coat, his body already shifting toward the door. His jaw clenched, every sense sharpened. Whoever else was here moved with silence almost equal to his own.

And Nate knew only one type of person could do that.

Another professional. An assassin.

---

Alexia melted into the night like a shadow given form. Her hood was drawn low, concealing her face, the moonlight glinting faintly off the ornate trim of her cloak. The leather corset cinched around her waist shifted with each breath, twin belts crossing tight at her hips, the hem of her slit skirt swaying with every silent leap. Her black thigh-high boots gripped the rooftops as if the stones themselves yielded to her.

She moved across the skyline with flawless grace, never breaking rhythm, every step controlled, every landing soundless. When she reached the academy walls, she perched atop a tall building opposite the spire, crouching low as her eyes traced the sprawling labyrinth below.

Massive… How could any child find their way around this place?

Her lips pressed into a thin line as she jumped, cape billowing briefly before she landed on the slanted roof of the academy itself. She crouched low, staying in the cover of the shadows, moving quickly along the ridge until she spotted the building she was after. One vault of exams, one set of results she needed to change.

A half-open window offered her an entry point. She swung down effortlessly, her boots catching the sill as she slipped inside without a whisper.

The corridors glowed faintly from brass lanterns, their light casting long shadows across the polished floors. Alexia hugged the walls, her body weaving between the patches of darkness. Twice she froze, pressed against cold stone, as guards marched past—boots echoing like a drumbeat, hands resting lazily on their weapons. When they passed, she was already gone, slipping through silence like water through cracks.

At last, she reached the door she sought. The vault room.

But someone was already inside.

Her eyes narrowed beneath the hood. At first glance, it looked like a teacher—grey coat, badge glinting faintly. He was bent over the trunk of exams, shuffling through papers.

Is he the one in charge of grading? Did he get here before me? Am I too late?

She lowered her body, moving without a sound. Her hand slid to her belt where a thin cord was coiled, perfect for choking him into unconsciousness. She advanced silently, step by step, until she was behind him. She moved quick, reaching for his throat—

But the “teacher” spun in an instant, his hand snapping up to block hers with precise force.

Alexia froze. He wasn’t startled like a normal instructor would’ve been. He was ready.

Her eyes flashed. Not a teacher. A spy.

The man lunged at her, striking low. She twisted, deflecting with her forearm, countering with a sharp jab toward his ribs. He blocked, then caught her wrist, and for a breath they stood locked, strength straining silently in the dim light. She kicked high, aiming for his chest, but he twisted, forcing her back with equal skill.

Nate’s mind raced beneath his calm expression. Who the hell is this? Did they follow me here? Do they know who I am?

Alexia’s thoughts were sharper, harsher. This isn’t an ordinary agent either. His movements are too sharp, too calculated. A spy. But why is a spy here in the academy vault?

Their fight was fast, fluid—silent exchanges of force and precision. A blow to the gut, blocked. A sweep of the leg, evaded. A strike aimed at the throat, redirected. Each mirrored the other in skill, neither giving ground, each reading the other’s body like a language only killers understood.

Then—

“HEY! Who’s there?!”

The shout of a guard echoed down the corridor.

Alexia’s head snapped toward the sound. A lantern’s glow flickered as heavy boots thudded closer.

“f**k,” she hissed under her breath.

Nate turned as well, his disguise still intact, his body tense. But when he looked back—

The assassin was gone.

Vanished into the shadows, not even the brush of fabric left behind.

He cursed under his breath and dropped quickly to the trunk, seizing the sealed envelopes he needed. His fingers worked fast, switching Ryan and Kyan’s tests with exact precision. He shoved the originals into his coat and closed the trunk just as the guard’s boots thundered closer.

“STOP!” the guard bellowed from behind.

Nate bolted. His steps were fast but soundless, cloak snapping behind him as he darted down the corridor. The guard gave chase, the weight of his boots pounding after him, voice echoing: “HALT! HALT!”

But Nate was already three turns ahead. He ducked into a stairwell, slid down the banister, and cut through the far wing. At the first glimpse of another patrol, he slipped into a hidden alcove, blending with the armor displays until the guards passed. By the time they regrouped, he was gone.

Out the back entrance, badge flashing once more to the automaton. The sentry blinked green and let him out without question.

Only when the courtyard was silent did Nate finally pause, breathing steady, mind racing.

That assassin… the way she moved. Sharp. Controlled. Familiar.

His jaw clenched. He hated familiarity in strangers—it meant connection, and connection meant risk. He glanced at his watch. Past midnight. He had to get home before Alexia wondered where he’d gone.

With one last glance at the looming spires, Nate vanished into the night.

---

Far above, Alexia darted across the rooftops, cloak whipping behind her as she leapt from one building to the next. Her landings were flawless, her body flowing like shadow incarnate. She didn’t stop until she was clear of the academy’s reach.

And even then… she couldn’t shake the gnawing thought.

There was something about that spy. The way he moved, the way he read my strikes. Familiar.

She tilted her face up to the moon, lips pressed tight. The position of the silver arc told her it was well past midnight. Her stomach dropped.

She’d left the kids alone.

She needed to get back before Nate did.

Her boots struck stone in rapid rhythm as she vanished across the rooftops, nothing but a shadow in the night.