The sleek limousine purred to life as everyone climbed in, their luggage secured. Master Alexandro settled beside Mitchell, who sat rigidly, staring out of the tinted window. The atmosphere inside was heavy, almost suffocating. Alexandro noticed his son's icy demeanor, far colder and more ruthless than he'd ever seen.
"Mitch," Alexandro began cautiously, choosing his words with care, "is something bothering you?"
"No, Dad," Mitchell replied sharply, his tone slicing through the air like a knife.
The others in the car, including Mr. Raph, remained silent. No one wanted to cross Mitchell, especially after the infamous incident where he'd dealt mercilessly with a company traitor. The brutal punishment was burned into everyone's memory.
Breaking the silence, Mitchell suddenly asked, "What about those men captured in Ottad?"
"They haven't spoken yet," Alexandro said grimly.
"But we discovered something, identical tattoos. They belong to the Flame Clan. They were once formidable masters of weaponry and assassinations. But when they betrayed their allies, the other clans united against them, wiping out most of their kind. Now, they're just pawns for powerful men, used for the dirtiest jobs."
Mitchell let out a derisive snort. "The name 'Flame' is laughable. Traitors deserve no name at all."
"They'll break under interrogation," Alexandro said confidently.
"No one withstands our methods for long."
Ashley, seated at the far end, listened intently. His heart pounded in his chest. He had betrayed Mitchell, giving away his location to the very men now being interrogated. Aunt Gomez's plans and his part in them, would crumble if those men talked.
"I've come too far to let everything fall apart now," Ashley thought, his mind racing.
The rest of the ride was steeped in silence. Eventually, the rhythmic hum of the engine lulled most passengers to sleep. All except Mitchell, who sat brooding. His mind returned to the drug Debbie had thrown out. He hadn't resumed taking it, and since then, his health had improved. The question lingered: What was in that drug? He needed answers.
He glanced over at Clara in the reflection of the tinted window. Her face was serene, her long lashes fanning over her pale skin. Mitchell smirked faintly. She looked like a sleeping beauty, so delicate, yet somehow the only person who could unsettle him.
---
The plane ride home was smooth, much to Clara's relief. The turbulence during her last flight had shaken her nerves, but this time, she felt a strange calm. However, the sight of Christmas trees decorating the airport upon landing brought memories crashing back.
Her mother used to knit sweaters for her and her father during winters, humming softly as they laughed by the fire. Clara blinked rapidly, pushing the emotions aside. This isn't the time to fall apart.
Two cars awaited them at the airport. Mitchell and Alexandro took one, Clara, Ashley, and Mr. Raph took the other. Clara sat quietly, staring out of the window.
"Driver, please drop me off at the hospital," she said suddenly.
Ashley's brow furrowed. "Are you alright?"
"Of course," she said quickly, forcing a smile. "Just a routine check-up."
Ashley didn't press her but kept a wary eye on her. When the car stopped in front of the hospital, he watched her closely until the vehicle pulled away. Clara stood in front of the entrance, pulling out her phone.
"Natasha, I'm here. What's going on? Why did you want me to meet you at Delight Hospital?" Clara's tone held a hint of unease.
"Come inside," Natasha replied, her voice unusually subdued.
Clara stepped into the reception area and spotted Natasha sitting stiffly in a corner, clutching her bag as if someone might steal it.
"Natasha!" Clara rushed over. "What's wrong? You sounded urgent."
"Clara, calm down," Natasha said, her voice shaking as she handed Clara a folded sheet of paper.
Clara hesitated before unfolding it. Her eyes immediately landed on one word: Positive.
Natasha's voice broke as she said, "I'm two weeks pregnant."
Her hands trembled, and tears welled in her eyes.
"I called Roland... He accused me of trying to trap him. He said the child isn't his. Clara, he denied everything!"
The tears came freely now, and Natasha's voice turned into incoherent sobs. Clara grabbed her friend's shoulders, speaking softly but firmly.
"Natasha, calm down. We need to leave. This isn't the place for this."
Natasha sniffled, nodding weakly. She wiped her tears and followed Clara out of the hospital.
---
Back in her apartment, Natasha sank into the couch, her hands clasped tightly. Clara handed her a glass of water, sitting beside her.
"Tell me everything," Clara urged gently.
Natasha took a shaky breath.
"Roland and I… I thought he loved me, Clara. But the moment I told him, he completely changed. He won't answer my calls now. He said if I dare tell anyone, he'll make my life miserable."
Clara's grip on her glass tightened.
"That bastard," she muttered under her breath.
"Natasha, listen to me. He doesn't get to walk away from this unscathed. You need to hold him accountable."
Natasha shook her head frantically. "I can't! He's powerful, Clara. His family has money and influence. I… I don't know what to do."
"You're not alone in this," Clara said firmly.
"We'll figure it out together. You're stronger than you think."
As Clara spoke, a fire ignited in her heart. It wasn't just about Natasha. This was about standing up to anyone who thought they could destroy others without consequence. It reminded her of her own parents' killers and how she'd vowed to make them pay.
But this time, her mind wavered as another face appeared, Mitchell. She thought about his smile, his trust. Could she destroy him to get to his father?
Natasha broke into her thoughts. "Clara, are you okay?"
Clara blinked, forcing a tight smile. "I'm fine. Just tired from the trip."
But deep down, she knew she was anything but fine.
This isn't over, Clara thought, a mix of resolve and turmoil gripping her heart.