Chapter 27 : 𝕴 𝖉𝖎𝖉𝖓'𝖙 𝖍𝖊𝖑𝖕 𝖍𝖎𝖒...𝕴 𝖘𝖜𝖊𝖆𝖗.

𝕸𝖆𝖋𝖎𝖆'𝖘 𝕹𝖊𝖒𝖊𝖘𝖎𝖘

A small placard etched in childlike font, glinted faintly under the hallway light.

“Junior.S – Unit C”

Her pace faltered—the nurses had called yesterday evening, and reminded her about his discharge, which was over two days.

She stared toward the door—not long, not with softness.

Just a vacant, hollow stare one gives a photograph too painful to touch. Her chest rose once. Then fell.

She picked up her pace, and didn’t even slow when she came face to face with the door.

Just a brief flick of her eyes toward the door, as if it were just another obstacle in the building she’d memorized—then she walked past.

No twitch in her brow, no flicker of guilt. Her jaw tightened, arms stiff at her sides, as though turning that handle would unravel something inside her, which she couldn’t afford to feel.

With no glance back—she simply kept walking, unaware that her son was long gone.

Had she opened that door, even cracked it slightly, she might have caught the gust of the empty bed just beyond that door.

The rumpled sheets—the faintest trace of wheelchair wheels etched into the polished floor.

But then she was Breanna Stewart who wasn't built for sentiment—rather hollow distance.

At the far end of the corridor, she pushed open the door to Ward C-12, stepping in without knocking.

Sophia stood at the window, half-dressed in her black combat trouser, shoulder stiff with healing skin.

Her nasal cannula lay on the tray beside her, coiled like a discarded leash, while her slender frame hunched slightly toward the window—arms crossed loosely over her chest.

With her back turned to the door, and also the slow rhythm of an oxygen concentrator winding down its final cycle, She didn’t hear Breanna come in.

Breanna observed her for some minutes, she was deeply engrossed with something—or someone—in the parking lot.

Just when she was about to announce her presence, she heard her mumble something.

“Goodness…he made it out?”

“What did you just say?” Breanna’s voice knifed through the silence.

“Ma’am—?” Startled—caught, Sophia straightened up from the window, turning slowly,

"I didn’t think you’d—” she began, voice breathless, but Breanna cut her off with a voice like flint.

“Don’t you dare insult me with a blank face—you knew about it...Wretch” she snapped, stepping in, door clicking behind her with a cold hiss.

“And you watched it happen without informing me.”

Sophia flinched, alarm flashing in her eyes—but she masked it quickly.

“I—had no idea, I didn’t. I swear I didn’t help him—” she said, too fast—stepping back from the window, her palms up.

Breanna’s face twitches—too brief to be a smile. “Don’t be a scared cat. You were cleared for discharge, so I decided to check on you”

“What!” Sophia gasped, with a mix of disbelief and chuckle.

“Come on—how's my acting?” Breanna asked, stepping further into the room, her coat dragging the air behind her like a blade unsheathed.

“Judging by your reaction, I think—A list”

“I almost fell for it,” Sophia replied, voice low.

Breanna eased beside the side table with a mischievous grin.

She grabbed Sophia’s discharge tablet, skimmed the clearance, and set it down with a snap.

Then she looked up. “We lost him.”

Sophia’s shifted uneasily. “Lowell?”

“No, Martinez. Said he’d rather die than be a witness—Lowell still breathing.”

“That's quite a heap of loyalty” Sophia swore under her breath.

Breanna didn’t answer immediately. She took a step toward the window, hands in her coat pockets like she was holding her ribs together.

“One has to return the favour when dealing with a Mafia—Martinez paid his off, without a second thought” Breanna remarked staring at the window.

Sophia followed her gaze, and with a slight motion from her— she instinctively moved—quick, not aggressive,

But deliberate—intercepting the view with her body.

“ ¿Qué te pasa?{What's up with you?}” Breanna snarled in her local accent.

“You shouldn’t stand too close to the window,” she said gently, reaching for the curtain.

“It’s cold. The moonlight—it makes you cold. It’s silly, I know, but... I feel it in my lungs.”

She started to draw the curtain shut, fingers brushing the fabric nervously at the edges

“Why are you nervous?” Breanna caught the motion instantly.

“I’m not.” Sophia shook her head. “It’s the air. Please—just come sit. You’ve barely slept—”

“I won't buy that—You’re definitely hiding something out there—is it a signal you’re waiting for?” she tilted her head, giving her a hard stare.

Sophia blinked, trying to mask it. “Ma’am, that’s unfair...are y..ou also going to investigate me.” But her voice cracked at the edge.

“I'm afraid I have to,” Breanna said softly. "You only talk faster when you lie—and you’re talking fast.”

“Ma'am, what are you—” Sophia protested but Breanna brushed her aside like a curtain herself, yanking the curtain wide.

☆☆𝕳𝖔𝖘𝖕𝖎𝖙𝖆𝖑’𝖘 𝖕𝖊𝖉𝖊𝖘𝖙𝖗𝖎𝖆𝖓 𝖕𝖆𝖛𝖊𝖒𝖊𝖓𝖙☆☆

Outside, Nevena flagged down a cab amidst her and Junior's argument and unlocked the passenger door.

“Same difference.” she said with a hint of finality as he eased into the seat.

She softly shut the door to his face, and the driver helped her stow the wheelchair in the trunk, and then she got in.

Inside the car, she collapsed on her seat exhaustedly.

“Drench lane” she whispered with a yawn.

“Okay ma'am” the driver nodded, turning the key.

The engine coughed to life, and they drove into the night, wind rushing against the windows.

Junior had the window cracked, face tilted toward the wind. He looked smaller than usual—his frame swallowed in his oversized hoodie.

Nevena flashed a glance at him with a crooked smile on her lips.

His eyes were glassy with moonlight and smiles which was a contrast to her guttural breathing.

He twisted in the chair, to look at her, teeth chattering as their eyes met.

“You okay?”

“No,” she said, leaning closer to him—her voice low and brittle “I think I’m dying.”

The little boy blinked at her honest confession.

“Guess you've never done anything like this before—sorry for putting you through the trouble” he apologized.

She glanced sideways and chuckled faintly, “There's no need for that”.

“Where to now?” he breathed out through his nose.

“My house…” she replied. “It's already late—we go shell hunting tomorrow”.

☆☆☆𝕭𝖆𝖈𝖐 𝖎𝖓𝖘𝖎𝖉𝖊☆☆☆

Breanna stared down at the lot.

Outside, the parking lot flickered under orange sodium lights.

A taxi idled—long gone now. Only vapor trails on the pavement and a stray nurse stepping out for a cigarette remained.

“Damn it,” she cussed.

She was too late to see anything. She stood there stiffly, like she could still rewind time just by focusing harder.

Sophia stood behind her, tense. “I told you there's nothing to see out there,” she whispered, voice teasing.

“Don’t flatter me,” Breanna snapped. “I trained you....my shadow".

“My biggest instinct at that,” She continued after a long pause. “How can't I know when my instinct is hiding something?”

Sophia squared her shoulders, eyes flickering away in exhaustion,

“I don’t know what you mean” She maintained

Breanna turned slowly, “I'm your Guru, if not tonight—I will still reclaim my dominance the day I find out”.

“Yes Ma'am” Sophia drew a shaky breath, body taut as a pulled wire.

Breanna stepped closer, locking gaze with her—something raw in her eyes, but Sophia didn't react.

The silence between them grew suffocating, until she earned a flicker from Breanna’s eyes. A shift in her shoulders.

“Fine then—Sophia you win.” she exhaled slowly. It didn’t sound like defeat. It sounded like an impressed mentor.

“I told you from the onset.” Sophia bowed her head slightly.

“Why didn’t you ask about my mission, since you knew about it?” Breanna asked.

“I’ve been hospitalized for nearly two weeks,” Sophia began. “Coughing up my own lungs. You think I will have time to think about some mission ?”

“I trained you better than this,” Breanna countered. “You were my best aide, Sophia. But it's obvious something changed.”

Sophia swallowed hard. “I... I figured out while in that fire that I never prioritized my health—and am going to do that from now henceforth.”

Breanna turned to look at her, something raw in her eyes.

Then, like a door slamming shut, it vanished.

“Get dressed," she ordered.

“Where to?” Sophia blinked. “I haven't been discharged yet”.

“To finish what you started before the fire.” Breanna replied.

She picked up the oxygen tubing, coiling it into the medical bin.

“We’ve got a breach protocol to trigger, and John just became our top priority—since we lost Martinez.”

Sophia’s breath caught. “But I'm yet to be discharged”.

Breanna’s fingers paused on the lid of the bin. Her eyes flicked once—just once—to the door behind her.

“I need you operational within the hour...John and Sombra Azul are nothing new to you” she said, tone brisk now.

Then she opened the door, motioning for Sophia to follow.

"You’ve got ten minutes" her eyes were steel.