Romans de Faithy

The suite didn't feel like a room on the fourth day, instead it felt like a cage I was locked inside, watched.I spent the first three days doing exactly what Matteo told me to do because survival meant everything to me. I carried out every task given to me including working on the security breach until it was impressive enough to pass Ethan’s inspection. On the fourth night I pushed Ethan. He brought dinner at eight as usual, and turned to leave like he was programmed to avoid conversation longer than five seconds. “You knew my father,” I said as he turned his back to leave.Ethan stopped with his hand on the door handle. “I need to be on my way, Eat before your food gets cold, Ms. Brooks, you wouldn't like it.” he said.“You were at the house,” I said. “Three nights before the attack. You drove the black car that was outside for hours. I remember because my father made me memorize plates when I was twelve.” He turned.“Mr. Romano doesn’t like his staff discussing personal history

Ethan escorted me as he led me down a long corridor. We stopped in front of a door, and he pushed it open without a word before stepping aside so I could enter. “This is your suite,” he said calmly.I stepped inside and paused. I already understood how the place worked. They would give me comfort, space, and the illusion of freedom. None of it changed the truth.“You will find everything you need,” Ethan continued,“Dinner will be brought up. You are expected to rest.”I nodded. “Understood.”Ethan stepped out and closed the door behind him.I entered the bathroom, gripped the sink, and leaned forward, splashing my face with water.My mind replayed the arrest, the deal, the way they looked at me. Now I stood inside their world.They think they can use me. My jaw tightened. They don’t know me.I showered fast, my eyes fixed on the door the entire time.When I entered the bedroom, I sat on the edge of the bed, the silence pressing in.I closed my eyes tightly. “Not now.”I lay back, cont

The city around was lit up with lights as I walked towards the road to take a cab.A hand clasped my shoulder.I turned.The man behind me was already reaching for his cuffs.“Ms. Alexis Brooklyn,” he said, voice flat. “You’re under arrest for the theft of a classified artifact from the Louvre Museum.”“What–?” The word barely left my mouth.Hands closed around my arms, steering me forward before I could take another breath. My clutch was taken. My phone followed.“Hey! wait, I didn’t–”“Ma’am, keep moving.”They guided me toward an unmarked vehicle parked just ahead. The door opened and I was pushed inside as the door slammed shut.The car pulled away immediately.I sat rigid, heart pounding, questions stacking in my throat with nowhere to go. Thirty minutes later, I was led into an interrogation room.The room was cold and uncomfortable. A single lamp hung above the table where I sat. I clenched my fists under the table. Sienna... keep it together. No one could find out about tha

Alexis POV.“Are you sure about this?” Amelia, my roommate asked as she stood there hands folded, face full of worry as she watched me put on my earring in front of the mirror.“Yes I am” I said, adjusting the edge of my gown. “I've been preparing for days.”She sighed. “Just...be careful okay?”“Sure thing” I muttered.She escorted me to the door, still anxious looking. “Call me as soon as you get there, and if you notice anything off–”“I should leave immediately, I know I promise I will.” I walked outside, slamming the door behind me. The air was cool, calm and tense filled. I raised my hand as I flagged down a taxi“Louvre museum,” I said as the driver gave an affirming nod before I slid inside, fastening my seatbelt.As the car began moving , I watched as the street lights lit up the buildings. The closer we got, the heavier the thoughts hit my mind like a knock. The plan, risk, the main reason I was here tonight..it pressed at the back of my mind, making the air tensed up for m

The first gunshot didn’t sound real.For a second I thought I imagined it until my father’s body was shot down in front of me, his hand still wrapped around mine, his grip was tight so hard it hurt.“Run!”****“Dinner’s getting cold, Sienna!” my mother called from downstairs. I dragged my feet across my room. Outside the storm blew the windows hard. Wind howled through the night.“I’m coming!” I replied, grabbing the banister as I came down the stairs. My mother stood by the table, settling the plates down.“Finally,” she said. “I was about to come drag you down myself.”“You wouldn’t,” I muttered, sliding into my seat.“Oh, I would,” she replied, pointing a spoon at me warning me.My father sat near the window in his wheelchair, looking outside with an anxious look on his face. It felt off. He was always the one telling us to hurry up, joking about how he’d eat everything if we took too long to come down.“Dad?” I frowned. “Aren’t you eating?”He seemed to snap out of what he was