Chapter 38 - Unmasking Mysteries 

Ferdinand's face darkened, his shoulders tensed, and for a moment, she thought she’d gone too far. But he didn't lash out. 

“Your mother made her choices,” he said evenly. “Just as you’re making yours. And she paid the price.”

The weight of his words hung in the air, suffocating her. She stared at his back, a mix of rage and despair swirling in her chest.

"I'm not mum," she said quietly.

"No," he said, glancing at her over his shoulder. "You're not. But if you keep down this path, you'll end up just like her-forgotten and a dozen feet under. Get some sleep, Ayra. You'll feel better in the morning."

With that, he turned and walked out of the kitchen, leaving Ayra standing, shaking with anger and sorrow. 

The glass of milk she had set down some time ago now felt like some sort of judgment against her, and she fought the urge to throw it against the wall.

She sat there for a very long period of time, staring at the half-full glass of milk on the counter. For the very first time in her life, she felt really alone. 

Whatever bond she'd thought she had with her family was gone, shattered by their words and indifference. 

And it hurts. 

It hurt so much.

....

Lucian's car glided into the underground parking of the holding facility. The sleek black vehicle gleamed under the harsh fluorescent lights, its engine humming softly before falling silent. 

Lucian stepped out, adjusting the cuffs of his tailored coat, his demeanor as unruffled as ever. Yet beneath the surface, his thoughts were a storm.

Isa.

Her name drifted unbidden across his mind, as it had unnumbered times since his finding of her. 

The sense of her presence, the sound of her voice, the regard in her eyes-lay with him still, weaving through every thought of his brain like some persistent refrain. His lips curving slightly, straightened again. 

Lucian was not here for amusement, nor was this the place to indulge in fancies.

As he entered and was greeted by guards down the bare hallways, his mind betrayed him: still playing back in his head were the moments spent together with her.

The way her lips had pressed into a thin line when she figured she'd lost a game to him. The throaty chuckle that escaped her lips sometimes. 

The way her eyes widened slightly in surprise whenever he did something surprising. It played out over and over in his mind's eye. 

"She's a bit different," he thought. Different, yes-but still Isa, whether she acknowledged it or not.

Ayra was her real name, he had learned. Isa must have been just an alias.

Lucian gave a slight shake of his head, the movement barely there, as if to clear the fog of his thoughts. No matter how captivating she was, he couldn't afford to lose focus.

The guard accompanying him stopped in front of a steel door, swiping a card to unlock it. "This way, sir," the man said, gesturing for Lucian to enter.

The room was utilitarian: no personality, no warmth, and completely impersonal. A table and single chair sat facing a one-way mirror in which the interrogation room was visible. 

Lucian's sharp eyes found Marcus Behr sitting inside immediately; the enforcer sat confident, his posture showing no hint of intimidation.

Marcus was known as something of a Wendell enforcer. He was listed, on paper, as a mercenary, but to all practical purposes he only took orders from the Wendell family.

Yet even as Lucian focused on the task at hand, his mind circled back to Isa. The drive here had been a study in distraction. 

As the car sped through the city streets, he'd allowed himself a brief indulgence, wondering what Isa was doing at that very moment. 

Was she replaying their conversation, trying to piece together who he really was? Was she remembering him? Thinking of him?

He chuckled low in his throat. The guard gave him a questioning look before he waved his hand in dismissal. He couldn't help it-the idea of Isa trying to figure him out was kind of adorable.

In an instant, Lucian's mind turned darker.

The dangers surrounding Isa were all too real. Being the spouse of The Director was pretty much a fulltime job with rather glaring life hazards. 

He had done his best over the years to make his position unassailable so that Isa would not have to deal with it. 

Unfortunately, recent events had conspired to shake his belief in the fact that Isa was safe with him.

Hence, he couldn't let feelings obscure his judgment. His goal was her safety. That was why he was here, after all.

Lucian crossed his arms, narrowing his gaze at the scene within the interrogation room. Marcus was speaking now, too softly to make out through the glass.

The guard beside him tweaked a control, and the audio feed crackled on.

"…just doing what I was hired to do," Marcus was saying, his tone even, almost languid.

Lucian's eyes flashed with irritation; there was something in the man's lack of tension that simply got under his skin. He made himself hold completely still. 

"Do you believe him?" the guard asked, breaking Lucian's thoughts.

"Not totally," Lucian answered slowly, his voice completely lackluster.

The guard nodded and stepped away to leave Lucian in silent observation.

The man sat with unnerving composure, his body relaxed despite the oppressive air of the room he occupied. His face was lean, angular, and impassive, betraying none of the tension that usually accompanied such situations. 

He was no amateur. 

Marcus leaned back in the metal chair, his hands cuffed in front of him, tapping his fingers idly on the table. His gaze met the interrogator's and he smirked.

He knew they wouldn't do anything to him. He was too valuable to the Wendells and they would raise a fuss if he got killed or jailed without conclusive evidence. 

What was Marcus looking at? What? Three, four months in prison? But then, the Wendell's guys would force a bail option and pull him out before he had even stayed a day.

Let's go over this again," said the detective, without being hostile. 

"You were picked up not far from where this whole thing happened. Witnesses put you on the scene, chasing after some young woman. Want to explain that?" 

Marcus grinned, cocking his head to one side. "Well, I just like jogging." The voice was filled with sarcasm.

The detective's jaw clenched, but he didn't rise to the bait. 

"Tell us what we want to know, Marcus, or when you would be leaving this place. A broken haw would be the least of your concerns. So, who told you to get the girl?"

Lucian leaned slightly forward, his fingers steepled under his chin. He liked this detective.

I don't know what you're talking about," Marcus replied in a flat, even voice. "I work alone."

The detective leaned forward over the table, his voice dropping to a whisper. 

“Cut the crap. We know you've done jobs for the Wendells. They call, you answer. So, tell me - what was the job this time? What did they want with the girl?”

Marcus let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. "You got the wrong guy. I wasn't working for the Wendells this time."

"That's a convenient story," the detective shot back.

“It’s the truth,” Marcus replied. "I AM a mercenary after all."

Lucian’s eyes remained fixed on the room. Marcus was too calm, too practiced. He’d been through this before and knew how to play the game. 

The detective changed tactics, his tone softening. “Look, Marcus, you’re not new to this. We both know you’re not stupid enough to act without reason. So, if it wasn’t the Wendells, who was it? Then who put you up to this?”

“Like I said,” Marcus began, his voice carefully even, “I was working on my own. No one hired me.”

The detective wasn’t buying it. He leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest. “If you’re working alone, then why chase after her? What’s so special about this girl that you’d go to those lengths?”

Marcus’s smirk returned, but there was a flicker of something darker in his eyes. “That’s my business.”

The detective slammed his hands on the table, making Marcus flinch slightly. 

“Wrong answer. That girl has connections, powerful ones, and if you think for a second that we’ll let you walk out of here without giving us something, you’re mistaken.”

Marcus sighed, scratching his head. “You’re wasting your time. I already told you -”

The detective cut him off. “You told me a lie. And here’s the thing about lies, Marcus - they don’t last long under pressure. So, I’ll ask you one last time: who hired you? Don't answer this time, and you would be meeting the boys. Their boots would get to know every part of your body... intimately.”

Lucian’s gaze sharpened as he watched the tension mount in the room. Marcus’s composure was beginning to crack, though only slightly. The man was skilled at deflecting, but everyone had their limits.