Ties With The Devil
1198 Words
Thalia's pov
“Adjust your stance,” I called out, stopping behind one of the recruits. He looked up at me, sweat beading on his brow, his movements too frantic to be effective. “Lower your shoulders. You are wasting energy.”
I moved among the groups, my boots clicking softly against the polished floor, eyes scanning their forms.
“Yes, commander." He grunted, shifting his posture under my watchful gaze.
I turned my attention to another square, where a pair of recruits was fumbling with a new set of equipment, small, lightweight explosives designed for maximum impact with minimal noise. Their fingers were clumsy, too hesitant.
“Stop, you are treating it like it’s fragile. It’s not. If you hesitate in the field, you are dead. Now, again.”
This was my element, the training, the pain, and the feeling of adrenaline rushing through my veins. Here, I wasn’t the girl from a broken family who clawed her way into the Order, I was their top assassin, the one who get results.
Yet, as I moved between the squares, correcting stances, his face kept flashing before me, the sharp lines of his jaw, the magnetic pull of his gaze, the feel of his arms against my skin, the gentle touch of his lips.
“Damn it,” I muttered under my breath, shaking the thought away.
I can’t afford to be distracted. Not here.
“Agent Winters,” a voice called from across the room. I turned to see Cole standing by the doorway, “The boss wants to see you. Now.”
I nodded, wiping my hands on my black pants and motioning for the recruits to continue without me. The walk to Raze’s office was short, I couldn't help but wonder why he needed to see me urgently.
As usual, Raze was sitted at his desk, his dark eyes on me as I walked closer to him.
I didn't miss the way his tongue ran over his lips, a subtle act that reminded me of over a decade long event.
I swallowed, shoving the memory away.
“Winters,” he said, his tone clipped.
"Boss." I answered, my hands tucked behind my back.
“Sit, we need to talk about our next move,” he began, sliding a map across the desk. “He has gone dark again, but..."
"Who do you mean by 'he' boss?"
I asked, a little lost as to why the ‘he’ doesn't have a name.
He rolled his eyes at me, "Lorenzo Caruso Vercetti, the target that slipped away from us two months ago. We have identified possible locations based on his known associates and recent activity. Here.”
He tapped on red dots on the map, his scarred hand steady.
I leaned forward, scanning the locations. Each one was carefully calculated, strategically chosen to be hard to infiltrate.
“He’s being careful." I said, my voice low. "Every move seems deliberate. We can go in half-prepared...”
“We won’t,” Raze interrupted, his gaze hard on the map.
"You don't know him like I do, he is precise, slow, dangerous, and trust me when I say he is clever. Even I hate to admit that, but we will be making a grave mistake by underestimating him. Lorenzo is a beast in this game."
His eyes flickered from the map to my face, "That is why you are here. You are the only one good enough to get close to him. You have been trained for this, I don't need you disappointing me, again."
My stomach twisted, the memory of that night flashing in vivid detail. His touch, his voice, the way he had looked at me as though he saw right through the layers I had built to keep the world out.
I forced the thought away, focusing on the task at hand. “What’s the timeline?”
“Two weeks,” He replied. “We will finalize the plans soon. Until then, I need you ready.”
I nodded, keeping my expression neutral.
"Boss," I called carefully, aware of the fact that I'm about to cross a line.
"What is it?" He grumbled.
"If you don't mind me asking, why is he on our radar?"
I saw fury flash in his eyes even before he spoke.
"Why is that any of your concern winters? You now bother yourself with the reason behind me calling the shots?"
His voice thundered in the room.
"I'm sorry boss."
"You better be. I need you ready, not asking questions."
The veins in his neck thickened with anger and I can tell he is barely holding back.
“I will be ready."
"Now leave."
I walked out of his office, shutting the heavy doors behind me.
As I walked back to my quarters, the unease grew heavier. I wasn’t the kind of girl to second-guess herself. The Order had drilled that out of me years ago. But this was different.
"Commander Winter?"
I turned to see David, my partner walking towards me, his long blonde hair matted to his face.
"Commander Winter?" I asked, raising a brow, a smile dancing around my lips.
"Sorry love. The hallway is packed with too many newbies. Can't have them thinking otherwise."
"Sounds weird coming from you." I chuckled softly.
"Tell me something I don't know."
"You have something for me?"
"Aah, yes." He pulled out a piece of paper from his pocket, handing it over to me. "Beam assigned four new recruits to the department. He said you are to address them before dusk."
"Four recruits? Why am I just hearing..."
Suddenly, a wave of nausea hit me, sharp and unexpected. I shoved her aside, stumbling toward my room. I barely made it to the bathroom before throwing up.
I stayed hunched over the sink for three minutes as I emptied the content of my stomach.
“What the hell?” I muttered, gripping the edge of the counter as the nausea subsided.
I splashed cold water on my face, staring at my reflection in the mirror. My skin looked pale, my waist length blonde hair was in disarray, my brown eyes shadowed with fatigue.
I walked into my room, exhaling a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. The space was simple yet comfortable, a perk of being one of the best. A single bed with crisp white sheets, a white vanity desk stood at the far end, and a small closet held my wardrobe. A fake green plant added a touch of color to the otherwise minimal decor.
Pacing the room, I tried to shake the lingering unease. Was it stress? Lack of sleep?
My thoughts drifted back to him, unbidden. The way his touch had lingered, the warmth of his breath against my skin. I stopped mid-step, as the realization sank in.
“No, no, no.” I whispered, my hand instinctively moving to my stomach.
I grabbed my phone from my bedside table, clicking on the calendar.
My stomach twisted with an unfamiliar dread.
The dates, the symptoms. Everything fell into place.
I’m carrying a life inside me.
And there is only one man who could be the father. Lorenzo.
- Writer
