Chapter 5 — Shattered Home
1109 Words
The street was quiet when Alex turned the corner, too quiet for late evening in this neighborhood. Porch lights glowed in rows, casting pale cones across trimmed lawns and lined fences. It looked almost peaceful—too clean, too perfect.
Her boots crunched on gravel as she walked toward her building, the weight of the day pressing like lead across her shoulders. Every step dragged. She longed for silence, for the simple comfort of four walls that had once been her safe place.
But Jacob’s ghost followed her everywhere, and tonight was no different.
A movement caught her attention. Her neighbor, Daniel, leaned casually against his car, cigarette glowing between his fingers. He was in his thirties, tall, with that permanent smirk men wear when they think they’ve figured out the world.
“Long day?” he asked, exhaling smoke.
Alex forced a polite nod. “Something like that.”
“You look like you could use a drink,” Daniel said, eyes narrowing with something that wasn’t quite concern. “Rough week?”
She didn’t want conversation. Not with him, not with anyone. Still, politeness drilled into her by years undercover made her answer. “You could say that. Just heading in to rest.”
Daniel chuckled, tapping ash onto the curb. “Rest never comes easy, huh?” His tone was light, but something in it prickled at the back of her neck.
Before she could answer, her phone vibrated.
Unknown number.
Her chest tightened. She answered anyway. “Yes?”
The voice on the other end was smooth, accented, a serpent’s whisper she recognized instantly.
“Alex.”
Sebastian Cortez.
Her hand clenched around the phone. Rage burned through her veins. “You—”
“Careful,” he cut her off softly, almost amused. “Don’t raise your voice. Not yet. I just wanted you to know something.”
She turned slightly, eyes scanning her surroundings. Daniel stubbed his cigarette, slid into his car.
“What do you want?” she hissed.
Sebastian’s tone sharpened, cruel and calm. “Right now—this very moment—your home is being ransacked.”
Her pulse spiked. “What?”
“Open your eyes, querida. Watch.”
As if on cue, Daniel’s car roared to life. The passenger door opened, and another man she hadn’t noticed before slid inside—arms stacked with boxes. Her breath froze. Jacob’s boxes. She recognized the markings instantly.
They didn’t look at her. They didn’t hesitate. The car peeled out, taillights glowing like mockery as it vanished into the dark.
Her stomach dropped. The world tilted.
“You son of a—”
Sebastian chuckled low on the line. “Do you feel it now? The walls falling, the ground shifting. It’s a special kind of pain, losing everything piece by piece. Isn’t it?”
Her throat burned. “This is your doing!”
“My doing?” His laugh was soft, mocking. “Oh, Alex. You give me too much credit. People are vultures. I don’t tell them to feast. I simply… let them.”
She was already running toward her door. “I swear to God, Cortez—”
“Swear all you like,” he purred. “But know this: every vow you make binds you closer to me. One day you’ll understand. For now… enjoy the mess.”
The call ended with a click.
Her key scraped violently against the lock. She shoved the door open and froze.
Chaos.
The living room was gutted. Drawers overturned, cushions slashed, books and papers scattered like storm debris. The coffee table was split, one leg dangling. The kitchen lights hummed overhead, casting sharp light on broken glass across the floor.
Her breath came ragged, shallow.
Jacob’s jacket—his leather jacket he wore on their last mission—was gone. His dog tags, once hanging on the hook by the door, gone. The photo frame on the shelf, the one with both of them smiling awkwardly at a team barbecue, lay face-down, the glass shattered.
Her legs buckled, and she caught herself on the wall. The air reeked of stale smoke and sweat, the stink of strangers who had pawed through her life.
“No,” she whispered, shaking her head. “No, no, no…”
She moved through each room in a daze. Closet emptied, clothes ripped down. Jacob’s files—his notes—vanished. The bedroom… worse. Their bed torn apart, sheets shredded, his belongings stripped as if he had never existed.
A brutal emptiness hollowed her chest. This wasn’t theft. This was erasure.
Her knees hit the floor beside the broken frame. She picked up the picture, shards of glass biting her fingers. Her reflection in the cracks looked wild, desperate.
They hadn’t just stolen from her. They had taken Jacob piece by piece, as if mocking her for ever believing she could hold on to him.
Her vision blurred, but no tears fell. She had none left to give.
The silence pressed heavy. Then it cracked.
She slammed the frame against the wall, glass shattering anew. The sound echoed through the wreckage.
“Cortez!” she screamed, her voice tearing from her throat, raw and furious. “I’ll kill you! Do you hear me? I’ll kill you!”
Her fists clenched, blood dripping from her cut palms, staining the floor. She didn’t care.
Every shadow in the apartment seemed to carry his smirk. Every overturned drawer whispered his name.
She forced herself to her feet, chest heaving. Rage steadied her knees, sharpened her mind.
They thought she was broken. They thought this would bury her in grief and fear.
But grief was done.
Now there was only fire.
She grabbed a notebook off the floor, half-crushed, pages torn. Flipping it open, she began to scribble names, connections, scraps of information she remembered from Jacob’s whispers. If they wanted to erase him, she would carve his memory into the bones of the men who had taken him.
Every letter was a vow. Every word a promise.
Her phone vibrated again. A message this time. One line.
How much more will you lose before you understand, Alex?
No sender ID. No signature. She didn’t need one.
Her lips curled back, a feral smile cutting across her face.
“You think you’ve won, Cortez,” she whispered into the wreckage. “But all you’ve done is give me reason to burn your world to ash.”
The apartment stood shattered around her, but inside, Alex felt steel settle into her spine.
She wasn’t a grieving lover anymore.
She was a soldier again.
And Sebastian Cortez had just declared war.
- Writer
