Lelia didn’t close her eyes that night.

She stayed in the small hotel room she had rented with cash, staring at the ceiling all night. The heater hummed, but couldn't warm her bones . She laid on the bed with her boot still on, her bag sat beside her on the bed, as if even sleep might betray her and she would have to run again.

The red dress…the one that carried her into the lion’s den was folded and stuffed in the black bag under the sink, wrinkled and wanted. She washed her face until it burned but the mirror still showed her someone she could barely remember…painted lips, strange eyes, a ghost of herself.

She stared back at the reflection.

“I did it,” she whispered.

But it landed heavy, not victorious. Not yet. This is just the beginning.

She had walked into a gala filled with predators in silk and tuxedos, smiling while they carved out lives. And she had walked into the center of it all. She looked into his eyes.

Xander Moreno.

He had noticed, his eyes found hers, even through the crowd. And now, things will move.

At the top floor of a tower wrapped in glass and silence, Xander stood in his office. The morning was quiet but he wasn't. His fingers drummed against the table, sharp and measured. He despised loose ends, and last night had left one standing in red.

Victor walked in with a tablet tucked under his arm, his expression carved from stone.

“No trace,” he said, not bothering to say good morning.

“No name. No registration. She just came in, walked in like she owned the place, and just disappeared.”

Xander didn't look away from the window.

“Someone helped her,” Xander said

“Or maybe she's just that good.”

The silence stretched, carrying a weight neither of them wanted to admit

Then Victor added.

“Sophia is waiting downstairs. She says you’ve been ignoring her.”

Xander sighed.

“Tell her five minutes.”

Victor gave a short nod and left.

Downstairs in the lounge, Sophia sat with a cup of tea she had no intention of drinking. She hated waiting, she hated being told ‘five minutes’ when it always meant twenty. The only thing she hated the most was being left out of what her brother thought important.

She scrolled idly through her phone, until something caught her eyes. A picture from the gala…grainy, quick, likely taken without care. Yet in the background, her brother stood on the balcony, his eyes locked on something else.

The woman in red.

Sophia pinched the screen, zooming in. The woman's face was blurred but her guts told her everything.

“She is the reason you didn't sleep,” she murmured under her breath.

When Xander finally came down, he looked tired. Not in the way normal people do but the type that came from restraining destruction. He looked like someone ready to tear the world apart just to steady himself.

“You are moody,” Sophia said tightly, crossing her legs.

“That's new.”

He ignored the comment and sat across from her.

“What do you want?”

“I'm your sister, not your enemy,” her smile thinned.

“You can be both,” he replied.

Her eyes flashed, but she smoothed it away with practiced ease

“I just wanted to say hi and ask why everyone is walking around as if the building is on fire.”

Xander didn't answer. Sophia tilted her head, watching him too carefully.

“So,” she pressed.

“Who is the ghost in red?”

Immediately, his jaw tensed…a small flicker of reaction.

“That's none of your concern,” he replied, his voice hard.

“Oh, then it's something,” she teased as she gave a smile that didn't reach her eyes.

“I was just guessing.”

Sophia leaned forward, her voice softer.

“Tell me this much…should I be worried? Is she dangerous?”

There was the briefest pause before he answered

“Yes.”

Sofia straightened, her eyes sharp despite her call smile. She said nothing more, but a thought lingered behind her silence. Xander wasn't telling her everything…he never did. And one day, she might need to know more than he was ready to share.

Back in the small hotel room, Leila opened a notebookworn soft at the edges and flipped through the photos, notes, scribbled notes, and red ink. At the centre, a name was circled twice,

Xander Moreno.

Under it: Target one.

Her finger traced the circle.

Ethan's name was there too, crossed out. She ran her finger over the ink as breathing felt like swallowing glass

“You didn't die for nothing,” she whispered.

Someone had betrayed Ethan. Someone had used him, and he paid with his life. That someone was close to Xander. Maybe Xander himself. She didn't know yet but she would.

Then she heard a knock. Her body stiffened. A quiet knock. Then another one accompanied by a voice.

“Housekeeping.”

A woman's voice. Gentle.

She didn't move.

Then, another knock. Still soft.

Lelia reached out for the small knife from her boot and moved quietly to the door. She didn't say anything, she only pressed her eyes against the peephole.

A woman stood there with a cart, uniform neat, name tag shining. She waited a moment and then moved on. The wheels squeaked in the hallway.

Lelia waited longer…counting the seconds, her pulse heavy in her ears, before she opened the door with a crack. The hallway was empty but the uneasiness clung to her skin. She shut the door again, bolted it. She couldn't stay again, not anymore.

At the Moreno headquarters, Xander stared at a screen, studying the enhanced frame. Each picture zoomed, filtered, sharpened until only her eyes remained. Eyes that had met his for a heartbeat, burning into him like a brand.

Not fear. Not awe. Something he couldn't name. Something he didn't like

“She is not a cîvilian,” Victor said behind him .

“She moves like someone trained. She doesn't react like a rich girl playing dress up.”

“I know,” Xander replied.

“And she is not afraid of you either.”

“I know that too.”

Victor hesitated before pulling up another file.

“There is something else,” he said, looking up.

Xander raised an eyebrow.

“We found an old surveillance frame. From six years ago. Outside Berlin. The weapons drop that went sideways.”

He turned the screen. A younger woman was caught mid-run, blurred but unmistakable.

Xander stared at it, leaning closer.

“Same eyes,” he said.

Victor nodded,

“Whoever she is, she has been around. And hiding.”

Xander lips curved, not in amusement but in something colder.

“Then we will drag her into the light.”

Meanwhile, Sophia had her plans. She never liked being left behind in her brother's shadow

So she called someone she trusted a bit.

“Marco,” she said into her phone.

“Mm,” came his lazy reply.

“Always bad news when you call,” he sighed.

“I need a favour.”

“You mean trouble.”

“I'm serious. I need you to track someone for me.”

There was a pause.

“Your brother wouldn't like that,” he said to her.

“I don't care.”

He sighed.

“You are getting nosy.”

“I'm curious,” her voice dipped, careful, layered.

“The girl in red.”

Silence stretched before Marco said,

“I saw her too. She doesn't belong,”

“Nope.”

“I will look into it.”

Sophia hung up and smiled.

If Xander wouldn't talk, she would find out for herself. And maybe, just maybe she will keep them for herself.

By afternoon, Lelia had changed hotels. She walked three blocks, took a cab to another part of the city, and checked into a hotel with a different name. At the new hotel, she dyed her hair dark brown in the bathroom sink, pulled it back and slipped on glasses she didn't need.

No one looked at her twice.

That night, she sat at a dusty computer in an internet café, the glow of the screen painting her face. She plugged in a flash drive and a screen popped up. An old contact of Ethan was still online.

She typed,

“Phase one completed. He noticed.”

The reply came back after a few minutes.

“Be careful, he isn't stupid.”

Her lips curved faintly.

“I know,” she typed.

“I'm not either.

Xander sat alone in the dark that night. He didn't go home. He stayed in the building, the weight of the silence pressing down as files spread across his desk, and his coffee had gone cold.

He wasn't used to feeling uncertain. He was used to power and control. But the girl in red had walked through all of that and vanished.

Victor came in. His face was unreadable.

“I have something,” he said.

“Not much, but it will do. For now.”

Xander looked up. No

“We traced her exit. The loading dock. But it only opens from inside.”

“Inside help?”

“It has to be.”

Xander leaned back, his brows wrinkled.

“She planned this,” he said

Victor nodded.

“But she is coming back,” Xander said. His lips curved into a dangerous smile again.

“Let her.”

The city paused below her, restless and wide awake. Neon spilled across the street like the bruised light, horn echoed in the distance, and somewhere sirens wailed fading back into the night. From the rooftop,it all looked small…tiny veins of electricity crawling through the dark.

Lelia stood at the edge, her boots planted on through concrete, the wind pulling at the loose strands of her newly dyed hair. The night air carried the sharp bite of cold metal and her fingers tightened around her knife hidden against her thigh. She whispered into the night, her breath causing a fog.

“I'm not scared of you.”

Her voice broke softly, lost to the wind before anyone could hear it. She said it again, louder this time. Not to the skyline but to herself, to Ethan ghost, to the man whose eyes burned into hers.

“I'm not scared of you “

But her heartbeat gave her away. It was fast, uneven, almost like she was having a panic attack. The city below kept moving, unaware of the storm brewing. A couple argued under the flickering light of a street lamp. Somewhere, glass shattered and laughter followed. Life went on, and here she was balancing between grief and vengeance.

Behind her, in the far corner where the rooftop shadow swallowed the light, something shifted. A figure, still as a statue blended into the night. Too quiet, too patient to be an accident.

Lelia didn't notice. Her eyes stayed on the skyline, on the endless stretch of light she swore she would one day conquer. She pressed her lips together and closed her eyes just long enough to imagine Ethan face…his grin, his voice, the warmth she would never feel again. Her chest ached and she calmed herself with another whisper.

“This isn't a mission. This is a payback.”

The figure in the shadow didn't move, it only watched.

And when she finally turned and walked back towards the rooftop door, boots echoing against the concrete. The shadow lingered.