Chapter Seven: The Face Behind the Flame
1042 Words
The rain hit the windows like small bullets. The storm outside matched the one growing inside Sabrina’s chest. Her fingers trembled as she ran them over the photo Isaac had left on the table. A Polaroid. Again. Just like the others.
But this one was different.
It wasn’t a stranger. It wasn’t a clue.
It was her.
Her—bloody hands, wolf eyes glowing, standing over a body. A man’s body.
Her heart pounded. She didn’t remember this. Not clearly. Just flashes—pain, screams, fire.
She looked up, and Isaac was leaning against the doorframe. His face was calm, but his eyes were sharp, searching.
“Where did you get this?” she asked, her voice cracking.
“From a vault beneath a burned orphanage in Batangas,” he said simply.
“Why were you there?”
“I was following your past.”
Sabrina stood up so fast the chair screeched. “You had no right.”
“I had every right,” Isaac snapped. “You think you’re the only one chasing truth? You think I’ve been quiet because I don’t care?”
“I don’t know what to think anymore,” she whispered.
Isaac walked slowly to her, careful not to get too close. “That picture—it’s not a lie. It’s from your suppressed memory. Someone wanted you to forget.”
She dropped the photo, breathing hard. “I’ve never killed anyone.”
“You have,” he said, voice low. “But they made you forget. They wiped your mind and filled it with pain to block the truth.”
“Who?” Her voice was a desperate cry. “Who did that to me?”
Isaac hesitated. “Your trainer. The one you called mother.”
Sabrina’s body stiffened. Her mother wasn’t really her mother—but she raised her. Taught her how to hold a knife, how to aim without shaking. She had whispered lullabies and threats with the same soft tone.
“I need proof,” she said through clenched teeth.
“I’ll get you proof,” Isaac promised.
But deep down, Sabrina already knew it was true.
She felt it.
The smell of burnt wood.
The screams.
The blood.
It was real.
And she had been the cause.
---
That night, she couldn’t sleep. She walked into the forest behind the safehouse. The moonlight slipped through the trees, bathing her silver eyes in light. She shifted halfway, claws barely out, just enough to feel the forest’s heartbeat.
The wolf in her wanted to run.
The girl in her wanted to break.
“Luna,” a voice whispered.
She turned sharply. No one called her that anymore. Only one person ever did—and he was long dead.
Or was he?
She followed the sound, heart racing, until she reached a clearing.
There was no one there.
Just a Polaroid nailed to a tree.
She pulled it down slowly.
It was a picture of Isaac—eyes red, fangs out, standing over a fire.
Behind him was her.
Smiling.
Like she was proud of the chaos.
“No,” she whispered. “This can’t be real.”
But she could see the date in the corner. Ten years ago.
How?
Isaac had said they met two years ago.
Why was she in his past?
Her mind swirled, but then—footsteps.
A blur of movement.
She turned just in time to see a figure vanish into the trees.
Isaac?
No.
This scent was different.
It was ash and salt.
The same scent from her dreams.
The Architect.
---
Back inside, Isaac was waiting. His knuckles were bloody. His shirt torn.
“What happened to you?”
He didn’t answer. He stared at the photo in her hand.
“Where did you find that?” he asked.
“In the forest.”
“I thought I burned it,” he muttered. “I thought I destroyed all traces.”
“You remember this night?” she asked.
“I do. I remember you. You smiled as everything burned.”
“But I don’t remember being there.”
“That’s because they wiped your memories. Not just once, Sabrina. Many times.”
“Who are ‘they’?”
Isaac’s lips parted, but he didn’t speak.
“You know,” she whispered. “Don’t lie to me.”
He met her gaze, then finally said, “The Syndicate. The ones who made me a spy… and you a killer.”
---
The word echoed inside her like a curse.
Killer.
Her whole life, she had told herself she was a weapon—but not a monster.
Now, even that lie was gone.
“I’m not who I thought I was,” she said softly.
“Neither am I,” Isaac replied. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t change.”
She stared at him. His voice was honest, but his eyes… his eyes held secrets.
“Why do I feel like you’re still hiding something?” she asked.
“Because I am.”
A pause.
He pulled a folded letter from his pocket and handed it to her.
“I found this inside your old room at the orphanage,” he said.
Sabrina slowly opened it.
It was a letter.
From her.
To someone named E.C.
“I know what I’ve done. I see blood every night. But I had no choice. They said they’d kill him if I didn’t. They said he was dangerous. They said Isaac Hale was the enemy…”
Sabrina dropped the letter, heart pounding.
She had written this.
But why would she write about killing Isaac?
She looked up at him.
“I was sent to kill you,” she whispered.
He nodded.
“And I was sent to use you.”
“But we fell in love.”
A silence fell between them.
That terrifying, beautiful silence.
“We’re both liars,” she said.
“But we’re the only truth we have left.”
---
Outside, another Polaroid landed on the doorstep.
This time it showed the both of them.
In a church.
Dressed in black.
Surrounded by coffins.
And behind them—etched into the stone wall—was the phrase:
“Sins will always return home.”
- Writer
