still Chapter 12
333 Words
still Chapter 12
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She landed on the roof of an abandoned school on the outskirts of the city.
The air was thick with sirens.
News drones flew like vultures.
She smiled at them.
Let them see her.
Let them record her face — not made-up, not controlled, not posed.
Just raw.
Real.
Ruthless.
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By midnight, her name was trending in twenty-four countries.
Not as heiress.
Not as fugitive.
Not as ghost.
But as traitor.
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She laughed.
Out loud.
The sound was wild. Ugly.
Free.
Let them hate her.
Let them twist her story.
She’d rather be a villain than a victim again.
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Two days later, she crossed into Malaysia on foot.
Bought a new identity in Kuala Lumpur.
Then boarded a cargo ship bound for Mozambique.
The crew didn’t speak English.
They didn’t ask questions.
She liked that.
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She spent the nights above deck, watching the stars disappear behind clouds.
The sea was endless.
Dark.
Honest.
It didn’t care who she had killed.
Who had loved her.
Who had betrayed her.
It just moved.
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Halfway through the journey, she stitched the name “Kira” into her new papers.
She didn’t feel like an Elena anymore.
Elena had burned.
Elena had bled.
Kira was no one.
And being no one felt like a kind of safety.
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Then, three weeks into her new nothingness, a message came.
Smuggled inside a shipment of tea.
Folded and hidden under the label.
She recognized the handwriting.
Adrian.
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He’s not dead.
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Her hands shook.
For the first time in months.
Years, maybe.
She reread the message:
> “You think you won.
But I never lose.
Come find me.
Or I’ll find her.”
He knew about the girl.
The child.
Her sister.
The heir.
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She ripped the message in half.
Then again.
Then again.
Until it was nothing but paper dust in the ocean wind.
But the words burned on.
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She wasn’t done.
Not yet.
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- Writer
