Collision of Hearts

Chapter 12

Tahimik ang villa.

Ang ulan sa labas ay mahinang pumapatak sa glass wall, parang may sariling ritmo—kalma, pero may tinatagong bagyo. Sa loob ng silid, ako lang ang gising. O baka ako lang ang hindi mapakali.

Sa tabi ng kama, may maliit na drawer. Hindi ko madalas buksan. Pero ngayong gabi… para bang may humihila sa akin.

I opened it.

Doon, nakapatong sa ilalim ng silk scarves at spare ammo case, ang bagay na matagal ko nang gustong kalimutan—the sat phone. Gasgas, may lamat pa sa gilid, pero buo. Tahimik. Para bang naghihintay lang ng tamang oras para muling mabuhay.

Naalala ko pa kung paano ito napunta sa akin.

Flashback – Days after the crash

“I found this near the wreck,” sabi ni Damon, halos hindi nagbabago ang tono. “Took it apart. It was fried. But I restored what I could.”

Inabot niya sa akin ang telepono—puno ng scratch marks, may bahid pa ng abo. I stared at it like it was a ghost.

“I’m not sure you’ll want it,” dagdag niya. “But you should have it.”

Hawak ko lang ito noon. Wala akong masabi. It was a relic of a life that exploded midair.

At gaya ng pagkatao ko, akala ko sira na. Hindi na maaayos.

But Damon did.

At kahit bihira kong gamitin, kahit bihira ko siyang tingnan—hindi ko rin siya magawang itapon. Parang parte ng buhay kong hindi ko pa kayang talikuran.

Back to Present

I ran my fingers over the surface of the phone.

Parang may static sa daliri ko. Tahimik pa rin ang screen. But I pressed the power button anyway.

Beeep.

Blue light blinked.

Signal acquired.

My heart jumped.

“Don’t be stupid,” bulong ko sa sarili. “No one even knows this number anymore…”

But then—

Riiiiing.

Biglang nag-vibrate ang phone sa palad ko. Maingay. Matinis. Isang tunog na para bang sumabog ang katahimikan ng buong gabi.

UNKNOWN CALLER.

Napaatras ako.

Parang nag-freeze ang dugo ko.

“No…”

Pero walang ibang taong tatawag sa numerong ito.

Kundi ang taong nagplano ng lahat.

Elian.

Nanginginig ang kamay ko habang sinagot ang tawag. Sa background, halos wala akong marinig kundi ang tunog ng ulan — at ang mabilis na t***k ng puso ko.

"Hello?" I kept my voice steady. Cold. But not too cold.

Mabilis ang sagot. Masiyado. "Skyra?!"

Tumigil ang mundo ko sa isang iglap.

“Elian.” I swallowed. “God... is that really you?”

"Jesus, Sky… You’re alive?!" Halatang rehearsed ang emosyon niya — masyadong sabik, masyadong malinis. "I’ve been trying to track you down for months! Are you safe? Nasaan ka?"

Napalingon ako sa tinted glass sa gilid ng room — and I knew. Damon was listening.

Somewhere behind the wall, sa command center niya, this call was being monitored, recorded, analyzed.

Kaya dapat magaling akong umarte.

"I’m... okay," sagot ko softly. "I don’t know where exactly. Someone rescued me after the crash."

“Someone? Skyra, what happened to your plane?!” He sounded horrified — pero may kasamang pilit na takot. Parang ginagampanan niya ang papel na sinulat niya mismo.

I let out a shaky breath. “We were shot down, Elian.”

Sandaling katahimikan. Then: “God… I thought you were dead.”

I bit the inside of my cheek. You wanted me dead.

“Why didn’t you reach out?” tanong niya, boses kunwaring basag. “We searched, Sky. We all did. Akala namin… I even spoke with—” He stopped. “Never mind. Ang mahalaga buhay ka.”

I smiled bitterly. “Right. Life is precious.”

At that moment, sa kabilang panig ng villa, I knew Damon was watching every micro-expression. Decoding every hesitation. Every word.

“I missed you,” Elian said. “The board’s in chaos. Investors are panicking. Monteverde Holdings needs you.”

Now you care? Pero ngumiti ako, kahit hindi niya ako kita. “I’ll be back.”

There was a long pause.

“Good,” he said, voice lower. “And Skyra… be careful who you trust.”

Bumigat ang hangin.

Napatingin ako sa camera sa sulok ng kwarto — alam kong nakatutok iyon sa akin.

Elian’s tone shifted again. Smooth. Charming. “I'll have my assistant coordinate a secure channel. You can use it to reach me directly, okay? Just like old times.”

“Of course,” I whispered. “Thank you... Kuya.”

Silence.

Then: click.

The line went dead.

Humugot ako ng malalim na hininga, pinikit ang mga mata.

And in the next moment, bumukas ang hidden panel sa wall.

Damon emerged from the shadows — tahimik, lethal, at may hawak na tablet sa kamay.

“He slipped up,” he said, voice hard. “Twice. He said someone helped you. He knew your plane was shot down. No one outside classified intel knows that.”

“I caught it too.”

“But he said something else.” Inilapit niya sa akin ang tablet screen. “Just before he hung up. Listen.”

He played back the last few seconds — audio slowed, enhanced.

"Be careful who you trust…"

May mahina, barely audible echo.

Parang may ibang boses sa background. Faint. A man shouting orders.

Damon's jaw clenched.

“Skyra… he’s not alone. He’s somewhere secure. Probably a command center. And he’s preparing for war.”

Tumayo ako sa tapat ng glass panel ng villa, pinapanood ang ulan habang unti-unting lumalabo ang mundo sa likod ng mist. Sa loob ko, parang ganun din—lahat malabo, lahat mapanganib.

Lumapit si Damon sa likod ko, tahimik pero ramdam ang presensya niya. Mainit. Mabigat.

“I decoded most of the call.” His voice was low, cold. “He’s sending someone to intercept us if we make any move. He’s not just pretending to care—he’s trying to control the board through your absence.”

“Then we take the game back to him,” I said, hindi na ako nanginginig.

He tilted his head. “You want to go back to Manila?”

I turned to face him. “No. We go back.”

Tahimik siyang tumango, and for a moment, nakita ko ang pagkagulat sa mata niya. Hindi dahil natakot siya sa plano, kundi dahil hindi niya inaasahan na ako mismo ang magpapasya.

“He still thinks I’m weak,” I added. “Let’s make him regret that.”

Hours later, nasa ilalim kami ng command center — sa isang hidden tech lab beneath the villa.

“This necklace,” sabi ni Damon habang inaabot ang isang slim gold choker, “is laced with high-frequency disruptors. Scrambles audio bugs within a five-meter radius.”

Kinuha ko iyon, inikot sa daliri ko. “Luxury sabotage. I like it.”

He opened a velvet case. “Matching earrings. Blades embedded. Coated with paralytic venom.”

I raised a brow. “How very romantic.”

“Wait ‘til you see the bracelet.” He handed me a thick cuff. “Contains two vials — one is antitoxin. The other is neuro-triggered adrenaline. You’ll know which is which when the time comes.”

I looked up. “And if I choose wrong?”

“You won’t.” Tumitig siya sa akin. “You never do.”

Kinabukasan, habang madilim pa ang paligid at ang dagat ay katahimikan lang ang alon, nakatayo kami sa helipad sa likod ng villa. Just the two of us.

No goodbye. No witnesses. No one could know.

“Once we land,” sabi ni Damon habang inaayos ang black gloves niya, “we split up for twelve hours. I’ll hit the contract lines. You go straight to Monteverde tower. Act like nothing’s changed.”

“I won’t be acting.”

He paused. Then reached for my wrist, clipping the disguised weapon on with quiet care. “You don’t have to prove anything to them.”

“I’m not.” Tumango ako. “I’m proving something to me.”

Tahimik siya sandali, then leaned in. His lips brushed my temple — hindi halik ng lover, kundi ng isang mandirigma na bumabati sa isa pang mandirigma bago sumabak sa giyera.

“I’ll see you in hell,” he whispered.

I smirked. “Only if I don’t burn it down first.”

Ang init ng Manila ay ibang klase. Mula sa island fog at malamig na villa breeze, ngayon ay parang sinampal ako ng lungsod — mabigat ang hangin, makalat ang paligid, at bawat hakbang ay tila minamarkahan ng mga matang hindi ko nakikita.

We landed on a rooftop helipad downtown — discreet, unscheduled, and disguised under a dummy call sign. Private lang ang landing pad, secured ni Damon mismo days before. Pero alam naming pareho — kung nakalusot si Elian sa communication line, wala nang ligtas.

I stepped out of the chopper first, suot ang black tactical coat na may lining ng Kevlar. Nakalugay ang buhok ko, pero naka-braided discreetly sa loob ng collar ang wire comms na binaon ni Damon sa likod ng hikaw ko. He was just behind me, one hand resting on the grip of his concealed pistol.

“Clear,” sabi ng pilot sa earpiece.

Pero may kirot sa leeg ko. Instinct.

Something’s wrong.

My heels hit the concrete — one, two, three — when the wind shifted.

Then—

CRACK.

A bullet screamed past me — tearing a piece of my coat at the shoulder.

“SKYRA!” Damon shouted, drawing his weapon and lunging toward me.

But I was already moving.

I dove behind a concrete pillar, pulled the compact mirror embedded in my bracelet, and angled it. Southwest tower. Sixth floor. Flash of chrome.

“I got him,” I hissed into the comms. “One sniper. Manual. Non-thermal. He’s tracking movement — not heat.”

Damon barked orders through the other line, summoning a scramble team through a back frequency. “Hold your position. Backup in two minutes.”

But two minutes was too long.

Another shot fired. Sparks flew from the helipad railing beside Damon.

“Tangina!” He ducked and rolled to my side. “You okay?”

“Better than your aim,” I snapped, breathing hard.

His eyes locked on mine. “I’ll draw fire. You move to the second shield panel and take the drop ramp to the north stair.”

I smirked. “Or I go full frontal and shoot him in the f*cking eye.”

“Skyra.”

But I was already unclipping the choker. “Trust me.”

Damon cursed, but gave me cover. Gunshots cracked, ricocheted against steel and cement. I moved low, precise — using my heel to trigger the hidden panel on the helipad rail. It slid open.

One bullet grazed my forearm. I didn’t flinch.

I pulled the blade from my earring, angled it with the sunlight, and reflected a blinding flash toward the sniper.

He hesitated.

I ran.

Three seconds. One breath.

And I was on the sniper’s blind side.

I emerged on the sixth floor — dirty, breathing hard, coat torn, blood on my lip.

And he was there.

Male, mid-40s, ex-military by the stance, adjusting his long-range rifle.

He turned — shocked — too late.

I threw the blade.

It lodged straight in his shoulder.

He fell back, screaming.

I grabbed his weapon and pointed it at his temple.

“Tell Elian,” I whispered, my voice ice cold, “next time, aim for the head. Because I don’t miss.”

Damon's Safehouse in Manila.

The room was dim.

Concrete walls. Black-out drapes. One table. Two chairs. A security screen flickering with multiple feeds from the perimeter. Outside, the world raged on — unaware that I had just survived another bullet meant for my skull.

I sat in the corner, coat torn, blood dried on my sleeve. My hands were steady, but my chest wouldn’t stop heaving. Tangina, Skyra. Breathe. I’d been hunted before. Betrayed before. But this… this was different.

I looked down at the burn on my forearm. The bullet had barely grazed me — but it left a red mark. A reminder.

The price of survival.

Footsteps.

I didn’t look up.

Not until I smelled him — a mix of gunpowder, sweat, and something painfully familiar: home.

Damon.

He stood at the threshold, jacket half-zipped, shirt stained with ash. His eyes scanned me like a hawk—checking for blood, bruises, weakness.

“You’re shaking,” he said.

“I’m alive,” I shot back, low.

He moved closer. Slowly. “Doesn’t mean you’re not breaking.”

I looked away.

He knelt in front of me, carefully placing the med kit between us. “Let me see.”

I didn’t move.

So he took my arm gently, rolled back the torn sleeve, and began cleaning the wound in silence. The alcohol stung like hell, but I didn’t flinch. I couldn’t. Not in front of him.

But when his hand stilled over the bandage, I finally looked at him.

His jaw was clenched.

“Tangina,” he muttered. “That bullet was meant to kill.”

“No s**t,” I whispered.

Damon closed his eyes briefly, then opened them — and what I saw there wasn’t anger.

It was guilt.

“Say it,” I murmured. “You think it’s your fault.”

“I promised I’d protect you,” he said hoarsely. “And still… they got that close.”

I touched his face — rough stubble against my palm. “You can’t control the world, Damon.”

He didn’t answer. Just pulled me into his arms.

And for a moment, I let him.

No walls. No masks. Just his chest against mine, rising and falling like he was reminding himself I was still breathing.

“I thought I lost you,” he whispered into my hair.

“You didn’t.”

“Promise me…” His voice cracked. “No more walking into fire without telling me.”

I pulled back just enough to look him in the eyes. “Only if you promise the same.”

He nodded.

But neither of us smiled.

Because we both knew — this wasn’t the end.

It was just the beginning.

Of the real war.

The hum of the surveillance monitors faded into the background.

Hindi pa ako natutulog mula nang dumating kami sa Manila. Hindi rin ako mapakali. Ilang oras na ang lumipas mula nang hulihin ko ang sniper — mula nang marinig ko ulit ang boses ni Elian. Pero ang katawan ko, parang hindi alam kung kailan pwede ulit huminga.

Tahimik si Damon. Nakaupo sa gilid ng lamesa, hawak ang bagong intel mula sa tech team niya. Pero ramdam ko ang tensyon sa bawat kilos niya. Hindi siya umiimik — and that silence screamed louder than any siren.

Ako naman, nakatayo sa bintana ng safehouse. The city beyond was still moving — oblivious to the war brewing beneath its skyline.

Napatingin ako sa kamay kong may sugat pa rin sa gilid ng palad. Tinakpan ko ‘to kanina ng gasa, pero ngayon… hinayaan ko na lang. Pakiramdam ko, mas nararamdaman ko ang buhay kapag may kirot.

Ang sat phone na nasa mesa sa tabi ko ay nanahimik. Parang wala itong ginawa kundi sumigaw sa isip ko.

Be careful who you trust.

"Putangina ka, Elian," I whispered. “Kaya mo akong ipapatay. Pero hindi mo kayang basagin kung sino ako.”

Damon moved behind me. I didn’t have to turn to know. Ramdam ko ang bigat ng presensya niya. Hindi lang bilang lalaking minsang naging tanong sa puso ko — kundi bilang kakampi kong hindi ko na kayang itanggi.

“You okay?” tanong niya, boses kalmado pero may bitin sa dulo. As if he already knew the answer.

“No,” I said. “And I don’t think I ever will be. Not until this is over.”

Tahimik kami sandali.

Then he stepped closer, halos magkadikit na ang katawan namin.

“You don’t have to do this alone,” he said, eyes dark, jaw tight.

“Don’t I?” I turned to him slowly. “The only family I had just tried to put a bullet through my skull.”

“I’m not your family,” he said, voice low. “I’m your war.”

That made me pause.

Then I smiled. Not sweet. Not kind. But dangerous.

“Then fight with me,” I said.

“I already am.”

“I don’t mean your tech. Your network. Your mercs. I mean you, Damon.” Tinutok ko ang daliri sa dibdib niya. “No secrets. No half-choices. Kung mamatay ako sa laban na ‘to, I want to know you bled beside me.”

He didn’t flinch. He didn’t argue.

He just stepped forward and kissed me — not out of lust or need, but something deeper. Mas masakit. Mas totoo.

Pagkatapos, sabay kaming tumingin sa digital map na nakaproject sa wall. Manila. The whole damn city. A chessboard. And every player was about to move.

“I want the Board back,” I said. “I want Monteverde tower under my heel. I want Elian to watch me take back everything he tried to steal.”

“You will,” Damon said, voice steel. “But when you go back in, Skyra… you won’t come out the same.”

I nodded.

“I don’t want to.”

Mula sa hallway, narinig naming buksan ng tech team ang secure comms. The plan was unfolding. Routes were being mapped. Decoys being activated. The war was beginning.

But before I left the room, I paused beside the sat phone one last time. Tiningnan ko ito — ang relic ng nakaraan kong muntik ko nang hindi mabawi.

Then I turned to Damon.

“This time,” I said, “we don’t just survive.”

He tilted his head. “What then?”

“We burn everything they built. Until we can breathe again.”

At sa unang pagkakataon, wala siyang sinabing kontra.

He simply said:

“Then let’s start the fire.”