Family Secret

Chapter 18

Nate adjusted his cufflinks as the jeweler slipped the last ring onto a velvet cushion. The small shop smelled faintly of polish and old wood, its glass cases glittering under warm light. He studied the pair of bands before him with a calculating eye.

The wedding band was plain gold, traditional, simple. It carried no excess weight or flare—practical, easy to wear.

But the other ring—the engagement ring—demanded more of his attention. A black band, smooth and sleek, with rose gold accents curling around it in delicate engravings. A diamond, not gaudy in size yet striking in its placement, caught the light and fractured it across the glass case. Beautiful. Unique. Different.

Just like her.

The thought came unbidden, and Nate’s jaw tightened. He quickly dismissed it as sentimentality, a weakness he could ill afford. Still, when the jeweler held it up to the light, Nate found himself nodding in approval. It was… fitting.

The jeweler slid a matching gold wedding band onto Nate’s own ring finger, testing the size. “Perfect fit,” the man murmured. He then nestled the chosen rings into a small black box, snapping it shut before handing it across the counter with a practiced smile.

Nate accepted it with a curt nod, slipping the box into his inner coat pocket. It was secure there, a weight he felt more than heard.

His phone buzzed.

Without hesitation, Nate drew it out and pressed it to his ear. A curt voice delivered the message, clipped and urgent:

“Five rogue agents spotted meeting in a warehouse outside of town. Strong suspicion they’re connected to the Resistance. We need confirmation. Handle it.”

The line went dead.

Nate slid the phone away, his expression never wavering. A quick glance at his watch—time was already cutting close, but duty came first. Always.

The warehouse district smelled of rust and oil, shadows pooling thick around crumbling buildings. Nate moved like a ghost, coat blending into the dark as he closed the distance.

Inside, the sound of shifting boots and low voices confirmed the intel. He slipped through a side door, back pressed against cool metal. The agents were gathered near the center, their faces hard, their whispers sharp. He didn’t need to hear the words; their intent was clear enough.

Nate stepped forward, silent as the grave. But one of them turned—just enough. Eyes locked. The fight began.

The first man lunged with a roar, his punch slicing through the air. Nate’s body shifted, flowing aside. He caught the man’s arm and twisted, precise and cruel, until bone popped and the man dropped screaming.

The next swung a pipe. Nate ducked, smooth and calm, driving a boot into the attacker’s ribs with a thunderous crack. The man flew sideways into a steel beam, wheezing on impact.

A third came from behind—Nate was already turning. His elbow snapped backward, finding jawbone with military precision. Teeth clattered against the floor as the man collapsed, unconscious before he landed.

Another charged, knife glinting in the dim light. Nate caught the wrist mid-swing, his grip iron. A twist, sharp and unrelenting, broke bone with a sickening crunch. The blade fell, clattering across the concrete.

The last spy bellowed, fury driving him forward. Nate’s eyes narrowed. Timing mattered. He shifted weight onto his back leg, then drove his knee into the man’s gut, folding him like paper. Before the agent could gasp for breath, Nate’s fist snapped upward in a brutal uppercut, laying him flat.

Silence fell.

Five bodies sprawled across the floor, half-groaning, half-still. Nate straightened his jacket, his breathing steady, his pulse unshaken. Each movement had been precise, disciplined, efficient. Not a strike wasted. Not a motion uncalculated.

This was what he did. Who he was.

He scanned the room once more, verifying none were still a threat. His hand brushed against his coat pocket, reassured by the weight of the rings still secure within.

It was time to disappear.

Ryan pressed himself against the grimy brick wall, his small hands trembling as he peeked through the cracked window. His eyes were wide, drinking in every movement Nate made inside the warehouse.

He had heard stories—whispers in the orphanage about spies, assassins, and the shadows they lurked in. He knew spies were dangerous, capable, lethal. But seeing Nate in action… it was something else entirely.

Ryan’s breath caught in his throat as Nate dismantled five grown men like they were nothing. Every move was clean, sharp, efficient—no hesitation, no wasted energy. Nate moved like he’d rehearsed the fight a hundred times in his head before even stepping into the room. Calm. Collected. Deadly.

Ryan swallowed hard. He’d known Nate was dangerous—he could feel it every time he brushed against his mind—but now he understood what that really meant. Nate wasn’t just a spy. He was something far worse. Something unstoppable.

As Nate straightened his coat and turned toward the exit, Ryan shrank deeper into the shadows, heart hammering against his ribs. He held his breath until Nate rounded the corner and disappeared into the night.

That’s when Ryan noticed it.

A small black box lay near the doorway, half-hidden in the dirt. Nate must have dropped it.

Ryan hesitated, glancing both ways before darting from his hiding spot. He scooped up the box, fingers fumbling with the clasp until it popped open.

Inside lay two rings.

One was a simple gold band—plain, traditional, exactly what Ryan expected Nate to pick. But the other… Ryan blinked in surprise. A sleek black band with rose gold accents etched around it, delicate but strong, with a diamond that wasn’t too big, wasn’t too small, but just right. The stone caught even the faint light of the streetlamp outside, throwing tiny sparks against the box’s velvet interior.

Ryan’s brows knitted. This wasn’t something chosen without thought. Nate had actually put effort into this. Effort for Alexia.

The boy snapped the box shut, slipping it into his pocket, and turned back toward the direction of the park. His feet crunched on broken glass and gravel as he walked, but his mind wasn’t on the path ahead.

It replayed the warehouse. The way Nate fought. The way men twice his size had fallen like rag dolls. The cold calculation in his movements.

Ryan’s stomach twisted. If Nate ever found out his secrets—about his mind, about Kyan’s visions—what would he do?

He clenched his fists, shaking his head. For now, it didn’t matter. He had the rings. That was enough.

Ryan walked faster, the box’s weight in his pocket heavy, as though it carried not just jewelry, but a truth he wasn’t ready to face.

---

In the bathroom building, Kyan hummed loudly as she washed her hands for the third time. She dragged her feet, fiddled with the soap dispenser, even pretended her shoe was untied—anything to stall.

Alexia leaned against the tiled wall, arms crossed, watching her with raised brows. “Kyan,” she said gently, “that’s enough washing. You’ll scrub your skin raw.”

“But Mommy,” Kyan pouted, dragging out her words, “what if I get germs? Daddy says germs are very, very dangerous.”

Alexia gave a soft chuckle. “Yes, but you’re not supposed to turn into a raisin over it.” She tugged her daughter’s hands from under the faucet, wrapping them in a paper towel. “Come on. Ryan’s waiting.”

The second they stepped back outside, Alexia’s eyes swept the playground. Empty swings, kids on the slides, a handful of parents on benches. But no Ryan.

Her stomach tightened. Panic clawed its way up her chest. She crouched to Kyan’s level, gripping her shoulders. “Sweetheart, where’s Ryan?”

Kyan blinked innocently. “He was on the playground, Mommy.”

Alexia’s mind raced. She never lost track of her targets, her enemies, anything. But this wasn’t a mission. This was… a child. A child under her care.

Then a familiar voice cut through her spiraling thoughts.

“Everything all right?”

She turned sharply. Nate was walking toward them, coat buttoned, expression unreadable as always. Relief washed over her, but she kept her face composed, calm, collected. “Of course,” she said smoothly. “Just thought Ryan had wandered off.”

Nate’s eyes scanned the park with a soldier’s precision. “Where is Ryan?”

Before Alexia could answer, Ryan jogged up from the side, cheeks a little red, chest rising and falling as though he’d been running. He slid seamlessly back into place at Alexia’s side.

“Right here,” he said quickly.

Alexia let out a slow breath, but Nate’s sharp gaze lingered on the boy for a moment too long, suspicion flickering in his eyes.

Finally, he adjusted his cufflinks and said, “Let’s head home. Dinner, then early to bed. First day tomorrow.”

As they started walking, Ryan’s small hand brushed against Nate’s side. In one smooth motion, he slipped the black box into Nate’s pocket. Nate stiffened, the shift of weight in his coat unmistakable.

Ryan glanced up innocently, grabbing Nate’s hand like a son would, swinging their joined hands just enough to sell the gesture. His face gave nothing away.

Nate’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t pull away.

Alexia walked on Nate’s other side, her arm brushing against his. Kyan skipped ahead, singing softly to herself. To any outsider, they looked like the picture of a perfect family.

But beneath the surface, secrets churned.

They made their way home in silence, each lost in their own thoughts.