Lili stormed through the base corridors. Behind her, the mess hall carried on without her: voices rose and fell, trays clattered, somebody laughed. She hated that laughter and how normal everything sounded. Most of all, she hated the tight ache in her chest that refused to leave.
I thought you were stronger than that. These words followed her through every turn.
The word stronger felt ugly, like she wasn’t supposed to need reassurance, silence shouldn’t matter or she shouldn’t care, but she did and she hated herself for it.
Before she realized where she was going, the doors of the training wing slid open before her. Cold white light poured across rows of equipment.
The conversation around the room died almost instantly. Several recruits looked up.
She wasn’t dressed for training: black slacks, fitted shirt.
One recruit opened his mouth as if to greet her coming in. The look in her eyes made him think better of it. Without slowing, she kicked off her shoes. One struck a nearby bench before tumbling across the floor. Lili’s gaze found a heavy bag hanging at the far end soon after.
She crossed the room, stopped. For a moment she simply stared at it. The bag swung lazily beneath its chains.
Her fist slammed into it. The bag snapped backward. A few recruits jumped, but to Lili the impact sent a jolt through her knuckles. Still it wasn’t enough, so she hit it again, again and again. Each strike landed harder than the last.
Every time her fist connected, she heard his voice again.
I thought you were stronger than that.
WHAM.
I didn’t think you needed reassurance.
WHAM.
A hook drove into its side.
I didn’t mean to.
WHAM.
An elbow followed the moment her breathing sharpened.
Notori wasn’t wrong. That was the awful part. She was supposed to be stronger than that. Months ago she would’ve laughed at herself for caring or worrying like some abandoned fool. She would’ve disappeared long before anyone got close enough to hurt her. Now she could barely survive twenty-four hours of silence. The realization only made her angrier.
WHAM.
The chains rattled overhead. Her hair slipped free from its tie. Dark strands stuck to her damp skin. Still she kept going: punch, kick, elbow, knee.
The bag nearly tore free from the chain.
Her fist stung. Warm blood smeared across worn leather. Still she refused to stop.
***
Mike walked fast. His phone buzzed in his pocket, but he didn’t bother checking it again. He already knew what the message said.
1 MESSAGE: “Gifted in the training room. Might lose control.”
2 MESSAGE: “It’s Lili.”
Of course it was. She had been unraveling for days now. He had watched it from a distance, cautious and unsure what would finally make her snap.
He pushed open the door to the training room. A few recruits lingered around.
And at the far end he saw Lili. She was still barefoot, her hair wild, fists continued to strike the heavy bag. Her sleeves were rolled up, arms glowing with strain, and her eyes were red.
She hadn’t broken the bag yet, but the chain creaked.
Mike stepped forward slowly. “Lili.” She didn’t stop. “Lili,” he said again, but firmer now. Another punch, another kick. “I don’t want to order you to stop,” he said, “but I will if I have to.”
That made her pause for the breath. “I’m fine,” she said at last hoarsely.
Mike took another step forward, lowering his voice. “No, you’re not.”
She said nothing. He glanced at her knuckles slightly split.
“You’re going to break something,” he said gently. “And I don’t mean just the bag.”
Still she didn’t face him, but the tension in her shoulders faltered. “You want to talk?” she asked quieter. “Or just tell me I’m scaring the recruits again?”
“Depends,” Mike replied calmly. “Do I get the version of you who punches walls, or the one who tells the truth?”
Finally, slowly, she turned her head. Her red eyes dimmed just slightly.
Lili still hadn’t turned fully to face him. Her fists remained at her sides, trembling slightly.
Then, her voice came again. “What do you truly think about me, Mike?”
Mike exhaled slowly. “Is this rhetorical,” he asked, “or do you want the answer that won’t be kind?”
Lili finally turned now, slowly, like something heavy was chained to her shoulders. Her eyes were no longer crimson, but grey. “I want the answer,” she said. “The one you think but don’t say. I can take it.”
He studied her in silence and folded his arms. “All right,” Mike said. “I think you’re one of the most dangerous people I’ve ever met. I think you terrify half this base,” he went on, “and you know it. You also think it keeps you safe. And maybe it does. Maybe that’s the only way you survived this long.” She listened without moving. “But I also think,” Mike said more quietly, “that you’re always walking a thin line between control and collapse. Every time you push people away or choose isolation over connection, you move one step closer to burning out.”
Lili stared at him unblinking. “And,” Mike added, “I think you hate that I see it.”
Lili’s gaze dropped. “I don’t hate it,” she whispered. “I just don’t know what to do with it.”
Mike stepped closer. “You don’t have to know,” he said. “But don’t pretend it’s not there.”
Lili let out a shaky breath. “I came here to hit something,” she murmured.
Mike offered a smile. “Then you picked the wrong audience.”
“And what is the best audience, Mike?” she asked. “Because it’s not like you let me go on the missions.”
She turned her gaze back to the punching bag, but didn’t strike it again. Just stared at it with half curled into fists. “I’ve been here how long? And how many missions have I actually been trusted with?” Her voice rose.
Mike didn’t interrupt. He knew better than to stop her when she finally let herself unravel. Lili exhaled sharply. “I would say I screwed it up,” she continued, “but I didn’t. We were a great team. Me and Notori. Got the job done. But still no more.” She turned her head slowly back toward Mike again, her eyes finally dark again. “So don’t talk to me about the audience. Because all I’ve got is empty rooms and half-glances from the people you actually send out there. I’m stuck in here.” Her throat tightened and her voice cracked ever so slightly. “You think I’m unraveling? Maybe I am, because I wasn’t meant to stay in a cage.”
Mike’s gaze softened. Lili let out a fractured laugh and dragged a hand through her red hair.
“But yeah,” she muttered, “as you said—I’m too valuable, right?” Her eyes flashed red again. “Why? Because of the information I carry about the mafia? You almost know all of it already, Mike.” She turned, arms crossed tight across her chest now. “So what is it, really? What am I to you all?” Her laugh returned, but sharper this time. “Because if all I am is a walking archive, then just say it.” She took a step toward him. “The fuck did you give me that badge for, huh?” she asked, holding his gaze. “To parade me around like I’m one of yours? One of the team? If you wanted to lock me up, you should’ve done it from the start. But no. You decided to play these sick little games. Give me hope, then chain it down.”
She scoffed, and shook her head, a twisted smile curled at the edge of her mouth. “You don’t get to pretend this cage is a reward. You don’t get to smile and call it trust when you almost never really let me out.”
Mike didn’t speak yet, but even his breath seemed quieter now. “Even Notori laughs in my face,” she said, *“with nonsense like ‘I thought you were strong.’” The words trembled between rage and heartbreak.
“And maybe I am terrifying,” her voice cracked with amusement, “but no one gives a damn about who I truly am or what I feel. Not him. Not you. No one.” She laughed again. “And maybe my life was easier before I screwed everything up. At least back then, I didn’t have people orbiting around me like I mattered. I was alone, yes, but I was safe from all these fucking theatrics I don’t even know how to play along with.”
Her fists curled at her sides. Her voice dropped lower, but it trembled with fury barely restrained. Her eyes flickered red again. She opened her mouth again. The silence swelled, heavy with something dangerous. But whatever words gathered on her tongue, she swallowed them back.
Then without another word she walked toward the door, bent, grabbed her discarded shoes and walked out into the corridor.
Mike exhaled through his nose. There was a slight tremor in his hand as he reached up to rub the back of his neck. The punching bag still swayed slightly where she’d left it. He stared at it for a moment, then gave it a gentle push with one hand just enough to feel the resistance.
“Terrifying,” he muttered to himself.
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