Episode 9 Old flames
The room was dimly lit, the curtains drawn against the darkness outside. The air carried the lingering scent of perfume and the warmth of a night neither of them had intended to discuss afterward.
For a while, neither spoke.
Leonardo lay beside the woman, watching her as she sat upright and reached for her clothes.
Black Rose.
She glanced at him.
"That was satisfying, Leon. Let's leave it at that."
Leonardo turned toward her, a faint smile touching his lips.
"That's a rather unceremonious way to end the night."
"Would you prefer a farewell speech?"
"I'd prefer a second round. We make a good pair, Teresa."
Her movements stopped.
Slowly, she turned to face him.
"Don't call me that."
"Why? It's your name."
"Not to you."
Leonardo studied her for a moment before letting out a quiet laugh.
"So that's what this is about? I thought you'd finally forgiven me."
"Forgiven you?" Black Rose repeated. "Don't flatter yourself. What happened tonight was a mistake. A moment of mutual consent that will never happen again."
"Funny. You didn't seem to think it was a mistake a few minutes ago."
Her expression hardened.
"Say another word, Leonardo."
"Or what?"
She lunged at him, her hands closing around his throat.
For a moment, the playful expression disappeared from his face. Then, even as her grip tightened, he managed a strained chuckle.
"There she is," he rasped. "I was beginning to wonder where the real Black Rose had gone."
"Keep talking, and you'll find out."
"Would you really kill me?" He struggled to speak beneath her grip. "After all these years, Teresa, you'd think you'd have learned that I'm remarkably difficult to get rid of."
Her fingers tightened.
He met her furious gaze without looking away.
"Go on, then. But what will you tell Laspa when he asks why his best friend is dead? That you lost your temper? Or that you couldn't bear the thought of me remembering what happened between us?"
Black Rose released him abruptly.
Leonardo drew a breath, rubbing his throat as she rose from the bed.
"That was your warning," she said. "Don't mistake it for an invitation to test me again."
He gave her a crooked smile.
"Wouldn't dream of it."
She reached for her clothes.
"And listen carefully, because I won't repeat myself. What Lander knows is that we have a shared criminal history. That's all. He doesn't need to know about anything else."
"Of course." Leonardo leaned back against the headboard. "We wouldn't want him discovering that our professional relationship has occasionally taken some rather unconventional turns."
She shot him a murderous look.
"Do you ever stop talking?"
"Only when there's nothing worth saying."
"Then try silence for once."
She finished dressing and turned toward him.
"What about the shipment?"
His expression shifted. The teasing gave way to business.
"Delivered. Everything went according to plan. I supervised the operation myself."
"No complications?"
"None worth mentioning."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only one you're getting tonight. If something had gone wrong, you'd already know."
Black Rose regarded him for another moment before collecting the last of her belongings.
"I'm leaving."
Leonardo glanced toward the door.
"You're aware that we're practically alone in the ranch, aren't you?"
"Your powers of observation are extraordinary."
"The staff have retired for the night. No one's going to interrupt us."
She continued toward the door.
"Teresa."
She stopped, but didn't turn around.
"We have the entire night to ourselves," he continued. "Surely you can spare me a little more of your time."
"Didn't you hear what I said?"
"I heard you. I simply don't agree with you."
"Your agreement was never required."
She opened the door.
"Black Rose," he called after her.
This time, she turned.
For once, Leonardo wasn't smiling.
"Was it really just a mistake?"
Her expression revealed nothing.
"Goodnight, Leonardo."
She walked out and shut the door behind her.
Leonardo remained still, his gaze fixed on the closed door.
After several seconds, he smiled to himself, though the expression held little amusement.
"Still running from the past, Teresa."
He reached for his phone.
The screen illuminated his face as he opened a message thread.
His fingers hovered over the keyboard.
Then he typed a short message.
We need to talk about Black Rose.
He stared at it for a moment before deleting the words.
Not yet.
He set the phone aside and leaned back against the headboard.
Whatever Black Rose wanted to believe, their past wasn't finished with either of them.
SCENE TRANSITION: VEGA MANSION
VEGA MANSION
Miss Bani's Study | Night
The Vega mansion had finally settled into silence.
Inside Miss Bani Vega's study, the warm glow of a desk lamp illuminated shelves of books, carefully arranged documents, and a few framed photographs that had survived years of change.
Miss Bani sat behind her desk, a glass of water beside her laptop. Across from her, Rhea Vega occupied one of the leather armchairs, her shoes abandoned on the rug.
For once, neither woman had a meeting to attend, a business to manage, or a crisis demanding her attention.
They were simply sisters.
Rhea glanced at a photograph resting on the corner of the desk. It showed two young girls standing beside a tall man in a traditional outfit, both wearing matching smiles.
She picked it up.
"Do you remember this day?"
Miss Bani looked up from her laptop.
"Unfortunately."
Rhea raised an eyebrow. "Unfortunately?"
"Dad had promised to take us shopping. Instead, he dragged us to three different family gatherings before we could convince him to honour his promise."
Rhea burst into laughter.
"And when we finally got to the shopping centre, you demanded twice as much money as I did."
"I was more ambitious."
"You were greedy."
"I was eighteen percent more ambitious than you."
"Where did you get that statistic?"
"From my highly sophisticated research."
Rhea shook her head, laughing as she returned her attention to the photograph.
For a moment, the laughter faded into something softer.
"Sometimes, I wonder how things would have turned out if Dad had treated us differently."
Miss Bani's expression changed slightly.
"How do you mean?"
"You know what I mean. Different mothers. Different households. Two branches of the same family." Rhea ran her thumb along the photograph's frame. "We could have grown up competing with each other. Fighting over his attention. Fighting over who deserved more."
"But we didn't."
"No. We didn't."
Miss Bani leaned back in her chair.
"Dad had his faults, but he never made us feel as though we were competing for the right to be his daughters."
Rhea nodded.
"He gave us money as if he were trying to solve every problem in the world."
"Remember when you wanted that expensive designer bag?"
Rhea groaned. "Please don't remind me."
"You cried for three days."
"I did not cry for three days!"
"You cried on Monday, complained on Tuesday, and refused to speak to him on Wednesday."
"Because he said I was too young to own a bag that expensive!"
"And what did he do?"
Rhea's lips curved into a reluctant smile.
"He bought it for me on Thursday."
"Exactly."
"He bought you a car when you turned eighteen."
"That was different."
"How?"
"I needed transportation."
"You had a perfectly good driver."
"Rhea, please. Don't bring logic into a perfectly good memory."
They both laughed again.
For a while, the study filled with stories from another time: childhood arguments, extravagant gifts, their father's ridiculous attempts to settle disputes with money, and the quiet ways he had ensured that neither daughter ever felt less important than the other.
They had been born to different mothers, but their father had refused to let that difference become a wall between them.
And somewhere between the arguments and the laughter, the two girls had become sisters in every sense that mattered.
Rhea eventually placed the photograph back on the desk.
"Do you ever regret leaving?"
Miss Bani's smile faded.
She knew exactly what Rhea meant.
At eighteen, she had walked away from the Vega family's established branch and the future that had been laid out for her. She had chosen to build something of her own, away from the privileges, expectations, and politics attached to the family name.
It had been a decision that many people considered reckless.
Some had called her ungrateful.
Others had assumed she would return once she discovered how difficult the world could be without her family's protection.
Instead, she had built an empire.
By twenty-five, she had already established herself as a formidable businesswoman. Before reaching twenty-nine, she had accomplished what many people spent their entire lives pursuing.
Now, at twenty-nine, she possessed a business empire that answered to her alone.
Miss Bani glanced toward the window.
"Sometimes."
Rhea looked surprised.
"Really?"
"Of course. Anyone who tells you they've never questioned a major decision is either lying or hasn't thought about it hard enough."
"So you regret it?"
"I regret the things I lost along the way. I regret the people I disappointed. I regret the years I spent convincing myself that asking for help would somehow make me less capable."
She paused.
"But leaving? No."
Her gaze returned to her sister.
"I needed to know who I was without the Vega name opening doors for me. I needed to discover whether I could build something that belonged to me, something that couldn't be taken away simply because someone decided I no longer deserved it."
"And you did."
"Yes. I did."
There was no boastfulness in her voice. Only the quiet certainty of someone who had lived through the consequences of her decisions and accepted them.
Rhea studied her for a moment.
"You know, when you left at eighteen, I thought you were being unnecessarily stubborn."
"I was eighteen. Stubbornness was practically my most marketable quality."
"You refused every offer Dad made to help you."
"Not every offer."
Rhea narrowed her eyes.
"Bani."
"What?"
"You accepted money from him."
"That was different."
"How?"
"He owed me."
"For what?"
"Emotional damages."
Rhea stared at her before bursting into laughter.
"You are unbelievable!"
"And yet, you love me."
"Unfortunately."
Miss Bani smiled.
For a moment, the years between their childhood and the present seemed to disappear. She could almost see the girls they had been: one determined to prove herself, the other determined to keep her close, both of them unaware of how complicated adulthood would become.
Rhea's smile gradually softened.
"I'm proud of you, you know."
Miss Bani looked at her.
"For what?"
"For everything you've built. For refusing to let anyone decide what your life should look like. For becoming someone people respect without needing them to know whose daughter you are."
Something flickered across Miss Bani's face.
She looked down at the photograph, turning it slightly so that the light fell across their father's face.
"Do you think Dad is proud of me?"
Rhea's expression grew serious.
"Bani, that man used to tell everyone who would listen that you were going to conquer the world."
"He said that about you too."
"Yes, but with me, he usually added that I should remember to eat properly while doing it."
Miss Bani laughed quietly.
"That sounds like him."
"He knew what you were capable of long before the rest of us did."
For several seconds, neither spoke.
Then Rhea leaned forward in her chair.
"But I think he'd be even prouder of something else."
Miss Bani raised an eyebrow.
"My excellent financial decisions?"
"Your ability to turn every conversation into a business negotiation?"
"My impeccable taste?"
"Your complete inability to admit when you're wrong."
"That last one is a family trait."
Rhea smiled.
"I mean the fact that, despite everything, you never stopped being my sister."
Miss Bani's expression softened.
She rose from her chair and walked around the desk.
"Come here."
Rhea stood, and the two women embraced.
It wasn't an elaborate gesture. Neither of them was particularly sentimental, and years of independence had taught them to express affection in their own ways.
But Rhea held on for a moment longer than usual.
"So," she murmured, "does this mean you'll finally admit that I was the favourite?"
Miss Bani pulled away.
"Absolutely not."
"Why?"
"Because I'm clearly the favourite."
"You left the family at eighteen!"
"And still managed to become its most successful daughter."
Rhea gasped theatrically.
"Your arrogance is becoming a serious medical concern."
"Perhaps you should consult a specialist."
"I know one. I'll send you the bill."
Miss Bani laughed, returning to her desk.
For a few precious minutes, there were no family expectations, no business rivalries, and no shadows from the past waiting to intrude.
There were only two sisters, a shared childhood, and the knowledge that whatever else the world might take from them, they had never truly lost each other.
Outside the study, the mansion remained silent.
But the peace would not last forever.
SCENE: THE DEA SAFE HOUSE
Night
The room was quiet, save for the occasional beep of the medical monitor beside the bed.
Shawn lay against the raised pillows, his injured body a frustrating reminder of how quickly an ordinary operation could turn into a nightmare.
As the leader of the DEA operation, he was accustomed to being the person asking questions, issuing orders, and making decisions.
Being confined to a bed while others handled his work was a different kind of torture.
A knock sounded at the door.
"Come in," he called.
The door opened.
Shawn looked toward the entrance, and his expression changed.
"Sam?"
Sam stood in the doorway, her hands tucked into the pockets of her jacket.
"You're looking better."
He gave her a dry look.
"That's your idea of a greeting?"
"Would you prefer flowers?"
"From you? I'd check them for tracking devices."
A faint smile crossed her face as she stepped inside.
"Good. Your sense of humour survived."
"Unfortunately, so did the rest of me."
She pulled a chair closer to his bed and sat down.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then Shawn studied her more carefully.
"What are you doing here?"
"Visiting an injured friend. Is that still permitted?"
"Depends on the friend."
"You're a terrible patient, Shawn."
"And you're avoiding my question."
Sam's smile disappeared.
Shawn noticed.
He shifted against the pillows, wincing slightly as he adjusted his injured side.
"This is about the ranch, isn't it?"
Sam looked at him.
"What makes you think that?"
"Because you don't visit me in the middle of the night just to admire my hospital accommodations."
"They're rather disappointing."
"Sam."
She sighed.
"Fine."
Her gaze dropped briefly to his bandaged side.
"I
Shawn's expression hardened.
"Then you know someone sent us information about the ranch."
"An anonymous source."
"Someone who knew enough about the operation to make the information worth investigating."
"And the moment you followed it, things went wrong."
"Very wrong."
Sam studied him in silence.
"Do you know who sent it?"
"No."
"Any idea why?"
"Not yet."
She leaned back in the chair.
"Then perhaps you should consider the possibility that whoever sent you that information wanted you there for a reason."
Shawn stared at her.
"Believe me, I've considered it."
"And?"
"And I don't appreciate being used as bait."
For the first time since she arrived, Sam looked genuinely troubled.
"Neither do I."
Shawn watched her closely.
"You're going to the ranch."
It wasn't a question.
Sam said nothing.
"Sam, look at me."
She raised her eyes to his.
"Whatever you think you're going to find there, don't assume you understand the situation better than the people already involved."
"That's comforting advice from a man who nearly got himself killed following an anonymous tip."
His jaw tightened.
"Fair enough."
She stood.
"I'm sorry about what happened to you, Shawn."
The sincerity in her voice made him pause.
He had known Sam long enough to recognise the difference between an apology offered out of politeness and one that carried genuine concern.
"Just promise me one thing," he said.
She waited.
"Don't let whoever arranged this dictate your next move."
Sam held his gaze.
"I'll keep that in mind."
"That's not a promise."
"It's the best you're getting."
He shook his head.
"You're impossible."
"So I've been told."
She turned toward the door.
"Sam."
She stopped.
"If you discover anything about that source, I want to know."
She glanced over her shoulder.
"If I discover anything worth telling you, you'll be the first to know."
"That sounds suspiciously like a carefully worded refusal."
"You're recovering nicely. Your instincts are still working."
Before he could respond, she slipped out of the room.
Shawn stared at the closed door.
Something about the visit unsettled him.
Sam had come to see him, but she hadn't come for reassurance, and she certainly hadn't come for permission.
She had already made up her mind.
He reached for his phone.
The screen illuminated his face as he opened a secure message thread.
After a moment's hesitation, he began typing.
Sam is heading toward the ranch. Find out what you can. Quietly.
He sent the message.
Then he leaned back, his expression darkening.
The last time someone had gone looking for answers at that ranch, the operation had ended in bloodshed.
He could only hope Sam understood what she was walking into.
SCENE TRANSITION
SCENE: THE RANCH
Later That Night
The ranch stood beneath a moonless sky, its sprawling grounds swallowed by darkness.
From the outside, the property appeared peaceful. The buildings were quiet, the windows mostly dark, and the surrounding landscape offered little indication of the secrets hidden within.
A vehicle approached the entrance.
Its headlights swept across the security gate before going dark.
Sam stepped out.
She wore dark clothing and carried a small backpack over one shoulder. Nothing about her appearance suggested that she intended to stay for long.
She stood for a moment, studying the property.
The ranch.
The same place that had drawn the DEA's attention.
The same place connected to the information that had sent Shawn and his team into danger.
And the same place she had decided to visit herself.
Sam adjusted the strap of her backpack and started toward the entrance.
She had questions.
Tonight, she intended to find answers.
As she disappeared beyond the gate, the camera above the entrance slowly turned to follow her.
A small red light blinked in the darkness.
Someone had seen her arrive.
END OF CHAPTER.