Cova and Notori sat in the dim-lit meeting room, the silence between them stitched with tension. Neither had spoken in minutes—not since the medics wheeled Lili away for closer observation, not since the blood had been cleaned from the sheets, not since the dagger dissolved on the ground into nothing.
Cova sat forward, elbows on the table, her hands clasped tightly, knuckles pale. Her whole body trembled quietly. Notori sat beside her, still as stone, jaw tight, eyes unfocused, haunted.
The door creaked open.
Mike stepped inside without a word, carrying a glass of water. He walked it over to her and set it gently on the table in front. Then, with a pause, he placed a hand on her shoulder.
She flinched slightly at the contact… but didn’t pull away. “I did it,” she whispered, voice barely audible and shaped by regret. “I thought I helped her. I really thought I did… but I was wrong.” Her voice cracked on the last word. “She was right. I don’t know her at all.”
Notori looked at her finally, his gaze softer than before. “No one really does,” he said quietly.
Cova shook her head, a bitter laugh escaping through clenched teeth. “But I thought I could reach her. I saw the way she looked at me. Like she wanted to believe I was different. That someone could understand. And maybe I made it worse.”
Mike’s hand was still on her shoulder. “You didn’t make her hurt herself, Cova. That pain didn’t start with you. It didn’t even start here. It’s been building a long time.”
“She’s so young…” Cova whispered, her voice breaking again. “But she carries more weight than any of us.”
“She’s difficult,” Notori murmured. “But she’s also hurt. And we can’t give up on her yet.”
Silence pressed around them.
Then Mike added, “You didn’t fail her. You stepped in. You spoke. That matters.”
Cova didn’t answer, but after a long moment, she picked up the glass of water and drank. Her hands still trembled, but something in her spine began to steady.
The doors creaked open again and the man who entered carried with him the presence of authority that needed no announcement. Late fifties, silver threading through dark hair, shoulders squared by the weight of too many years in command. The room straightened the moment he stepped in. “Sorry that I’m late,” he said, voice calm but edged with fatigue.
“All good, Rafael,” Notori answered quickly, offering a respectful nod.
Rafael’s gaze moved across the room landing on Cova, who still looked pale and shaken, then shifting to Mike, then to Notori. Something unreadable flickered behind his eyes. He exhaled slowly and spoke.
“I was briefed on the incident. I’ve read the medical notes, reviewed the surveillance feed. We can suppress her abilities if it comes to that again. But doing so may inflict more psychological harm. It’s not a decision to make lightly.”
He paused and his tone shifted into more grimmer and heavier. “That said, we will need to keep a close eye on her. And let’s not forget—we still need to question her. There are things we need to know.”
“Boss, not now,” Mike said quietly. “Give her time. She just—”
“She just nearly took her own life, I’m aware,” Rafael interrupted, though his tone wasn’t unkind. “But Mike… I can’t condone this approach. If you’re involving Cova this deeply, then she deserves the truth. Because you’re putting her in harm’s way without warning her.”
Cova blinked, sitting up a little straighter. She didn’t speak, but her eyes turned to Mike.
Mike met Rafael’s stare. “She’s not a threat to anyone else.”
“She was armed in a secured room and bled on hospital sheets,” Rafael countered. “You think this ends with a few comforting words and a new room assignment?”
“She didn’t lash out at anyone,” Notori cut in, his voice harder now, rising above the rest. “She didn’t attack the staff. She didn’t try to escape. All of her pain—she turned it inward. That’s not the behavior of someone hostile. That’s the behavior of someone drowning.”
Rafael’s lips pressed into a line, unreadable again. For a long moment, he said nothing. Then, he turned to Cova. “You’re brave, for stepping in. But if you’re staying in this, you need to be briefed.”
Cova nodded slowly, the ghost of tremble still in her fingers, but her voice held no cracks. “Then brief me,” she said.
The silence that followed was different this time.
Notori inhaled deeply, the kind of breath one takes before a plunge, before the fall. His eyes didn’t leave hers. “Lili…” he said, slowly, “is the Princess of Death.”
The words detonated in the space between them.
Cova’s eyes widened, her entire body recoiling as if struck. She shot up so quickly the chair beneath her clattered backward, crashing against the wall with a metallic bang.
“She’s what!?” Her voice cracked through the room. “Are you seriously telling me you sent me in to talk to her—the infamous killer? The mafia’s bloody ghost?!” Mike tried to interject, but she wasn’t done. Her voice trembled now, more with disbelief than fear. “You let me sit with her alone? With no warning? The one who hunts people like a damn shadow?!”
Rafael didn’t flinch. Notori didn’t look away.
“She’s not that person anymore,” Notori said, though his voice was too conflicted. “She broke. You saw it. She’s not invincible. She’s not untouchable. She’s… she’s bleeding.”
“That doesn’t erase who she was!” Cova snapped, pacing now, her arms wrapped around her stomach like she was trying to hold herself together. “I’ve heard stories about her since I only dreamed of joining you. She’s a myth! A nightmare! No face, no mercy, no weakness. Just death in red eyes.” Cova paused. “She saw me,” Cova murmured, barely above breath. “Really saw me.”
“She’s Gifted,” Rafael said. “One of the most experienced ones. But you’re wrong, Cova. We didn’t send you in as bait. We sent you because she needed to see that not everyone is a threat. That not everyone wants to cage her or control her. She needed a willing human face.”
Cova let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding and pressed her palms against her temples. Her fingers dragged slowly down her face, as if trying to erase what she now knew. “I thought I felt something in her,” she whispered. “Something… buried. I just didn’t know it was that.”
“She was feared for a reason,” Notori said, his voice low, but steady. “But whatever monster they forged from her—it cracked. And now what’s left is a woman who doesn’t know if she even deserves to be saved.”
Cova’s gaze drifted upward again, this time haunted and sharpened by the echo of old stories now crashing against the fragile truth she’d seen in Lili’s eyes. “Well,” she said quietly, “now I understand why she thinks she doesn’t deserve to be.”
Her eyes shifted to Rafael. She watched him for a beat too long, searching for something behind his unreadable mask. “Shouldn’t she be in custody?” Cova asked finally. “She’s dangerous. We’re still law-bound, aren’t we? We’re sending her to prison, right?”
Notori stepped forward. “We are not doing that.”
Cova looked between them stunned. “So what then? You’ll just let her stay? Among civilians? Unsupervised?”
“I never said that,” Rafael replied calm but evasive. He folded his arms slowly. “I’m in direct contact with her parents. We’re discussing the next steps. We’ll see where this leads.”
The tension snapped in the room.
Mike narrowed his eyes. “Wait… You told her parents she’s here?”
“Of course I did,” Rafael said, as if it were obvious.
“You what?” Heat rose in Mike’s voice. “After everything she’s been through? After she ran from them terrified and hurt you just handed over her location like it was paperwork?”
“They’re still her family,” Rafael shot back. “And by law, family is the first line of contact. We don’t get to rewrite protocol based on feelings.”
“Protocol doesn’t mean jack when it puts her back in a room with people she doesn’t trust,” Notori growled. “Colin wasn’t patient with her. He tried to subdue her like she was a wild animal and he paid for it. She injured him. What kind of reunion do you think that sets up?”
Cova blinked, stunned. “Wait—she injured her own father?” Her gaze snapped to Notori. “You told me she wasn’t dangerous. You lied.”
“No,” Notori replied firmly. “I said she’s not a threat. That’s not the same thing. Colin tried to use force. She warned him to stop. And when he lunged at her anyway, what did you expect her to do? Curl up and accept it? She defended herself. Was it excessive? Maybe. But it wasn’t unprovoked.”
Rafael exhaled slowly, rubbing a hand over his jaw as the room simmered. “She vanished when she was still a baby,” he said at last. “They didn’t raise her. They only found her weeks ago. You can’t blame Colin for acting out of desperation also. He’s a father trying to reclaim something he lost.”
“And he nearly lost her again,” Notori muttered. “Because love without listening is just control with a prettier name.”
Cova looked down, her arms folding tightly across her chest. “So what now? What’s the plan—wait until she either trusts us or breaks again?”
“She’s not some ticking time bomb,” Notori said, voice softer now. “She’s a survivor with cracked edges.”
“Human or not,” Rafael said grimly, “we still have to decide what comes next. And for that, we need clarity.”
***
Astonia stormed through the main corridor of the medical wing. Her sharp heels striking the floor. Colin followed just a pace behind, his movements tighter, more restrained. His left hand hovered protectively over his side, a pain still echoing from the injury Lili had given him weeks ago. He didn’t wince—but the tightness around his eyes betrayed him.
Margherita met them halfway, already pulling off her gloves, her expression strained with concern. “You shouldn’t be here—”
“Where is she?” Astonia interrupted, her voice sharp, rich with worry and command all at once. “You contacted us. Don’t start gatekeeping now.”
“She’s resting,” Margherita said firmly, holding her ground. “She had a severe episode not long ago. We’re stabilizing her. She’s not ready for visitors—especially not unannounced ones.”
“We’re not strangers to her. We’re her parents.” Colin’s voice was rougher than Astonia’s.
Margherita’s gaze darkened. “You might share her blood, but you aren’t the ones who held her hand through the nightmares. She doesn’t trust you. And barging in here like this isn’t going to help her recovery.”
Astonia’s jaw clenched, but her eyes flickered unsure. Colin too faltered for a breath.
“We’re not here to hurt her,” Astonia said, this time quieter. “We just… need to see her.”
Margherita’s expression didn’t shift much, but the slight twitch of her brow, the way she folded her arms a little tighter, made it clear she wasn’t about to back down.
“And if you do show yourselves now,” she replied, “you’ll shatter what little stability she has left.”
“If we don’t show ourselves—if we keep waiting for the perfect moment—she’ll never be ready to face us! She’ll keep running. Keep hiding. And eventually, she’ll believe we stopped caring.” Astonia told in an already raised voice, something between anguish and frustration.
“She will believe you only care now because she’s broken and in your reach again.” Margherita said quietly.
Colin winced. He glanced to the side, jaw tightening, guilt drawing lines deep into his features.
Astonia’s composure wavered. “I’m her mother.”
“And I’m her doctor,” Margherita countered. “And right now, she doesn’t need a mother she barely knows storming into her recovery room with a storm in her voice. She needs silence. Space. A chance to breathe without being reminded of every person who’s ever decided what’s best for her without asking.” Margherita’s voice dropped, but it didn’t soften. “You can love her. You can wait for her. But if you want her trust… you have to earn it.”
Astonia stared at her, eyes glossy but fierce. Estonia wasn’t known for patience…
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