Amelia Vance (The Unknown Series)

Chapter 7

She looked at the bathroom door, at the quiet, solid symbol of her new life. Freedom wasn't in killing Silas; it was in walking away from him. It was in choosing to live.

She turned her back on him and walked to the bathroom door. She knocked softly, her hand trembling. "Leo?" she whispered, the tough, fighting veneer finally cracking. "It's over."

Inside, Leo waited, not knowing what to expect. He opened the door to see her standing there, bruised and battered, but alive. The fearless warrior was gone, replaced by the quiet girl he loved. He didn't ask what happened. He just wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. In his embrace, Amelia knew she had won more than just a fight. She had won herself.

Leo Pov

The silence in the apartment was deafening, broken only by the sound of Leo's shaky breathing. He had watched the fight from behind the bathroom door, powerless, his heart a frantic drum against his ribs. When he finally emerged, he found Amelia kneeling over Silas, her body heaving from the exertion. The battle had taken its toll; her side was bruised, and a cut above her eyebrow was slowly bleeding.

He rushed to her, a makeshift first-aid kit in hand. "Are you okay? He didn't... he didn't hurt you, did he?"

"I'm fine," she said, her voice strained. She looked at him, and for the first time since her memory returned, the hardened operative facade slipped. She was just Amelia, battered but whole. "I'm sorry you had to see that."

He knelt beside her, his fingers gentle as he dabbed a clean cloth at her wound. "Don't be," he whispered. "You came back to me. That's all that matters."

As he patched her up, their quiet moment of relief was shattered. From the floor, a soft, electronic chime rang out. Amelia’s head snapped up. She looked at Silas’s hand, where a small, silver ring, identical to the one she had once worn, was now glowing with a pulsating blue light. Her eyes widened in recognition.

"A secure line," she murmured. "He was expecting a status report."

Silas, a defeated look on his face, struggled to speak. "It's a mistake to answer it, Amelia. You don't know who you're dealing with."

Amelia Pov

Amelia's gaze was cold. "You don't get to tell me what to do anymore, Silas." She wrenched the ring from his finger. The blue light intensified, and a three-dimensional hologram flickered to life in the air above it. The figure was a familiar one: a man in a tailored suit, his face a perfect mask of polite indifference. It was the same man who had met her at the coffee shop and given her the device.

"Silas," the man's voice was calm, almost bored. "Report. I assume the retrieval was successful?"

Silas gritted his teeth, unable to respond. Amelia looked at the man, a new wave of fury washing over her, colder and more potent than the rage she felt for Silas. She had defeated a pawn, but the puppet master was still on the board.

"The retrieval was a failure," Amelia said, her voice clear and steady. "And Silas is out of the game."