The Traitor

The house felt different after midnight.

I had been sitting in the dark for hours. The bedroom was empty. Rex was somewhere else – his study, probably, staring at maps and photographs and evidence I was not allowed to see. The rain had stopped. The world was quiet.

Too quiet.

My burner phone buzzed against my thigh. Lin.

I have something. Meet me at the garden wall. Five minutes.

I slipped out of bed. Did not turn on any lights. Did not make a sound. My bare feet moved across the cold marble like I had been practicing this my whole life. Because I had.

The hallway was empty. Mrs. Park's door was closed. No light underneath. She was asleep. Or pretending to be.

I moved past the portraits. Past the suits of armor. Past the cameras I had already mapped in my head. Three in the main corridor. Two in the side hall. None in the back stairwell. I took the back stairwell.

The garden was wet from the rain. The roses smelled like death and sugar. I walked to the wall. Waited.

Lin appeared out of the shadows like she had grown there. Dark clothes. Dark hair. Dark eyes. She handed me a photograph.

I looked at it. My blood stopped moving.

A woman. Mid-forties. Green eyes. Dark hair streaked with gray. She stood in front of a building I did not recognize. Her arms were crossed. Her face was hard.

My mother.

Where was this taken? I asked.

Lin pointed at the building behind her. That is a safe house in Prague. She has been there off and on for the past six months.

Six months. Since she disappeared from Isabella's life. Since she left my sister in charge of a corpse's puppet.

Who is she working with? I asked.

Lin pulled out her phone. Scrolled through messages. That is the problem, she said. I cannot find anyone. She works alone. Meets alone. Travels alone.

No one is truly alone, I said.

Lin looked up. Her eyes were dark. She is not alone, Mira. She has someone inside this house. I told you that. But I cannot find them. They are good. Better than me.

That scared me more than anything. Lin was the best hacker I had ever met. If she could not find the traitor, the traitor did not want to be found.

Keep looking, I said.

Lin nodded. Disappeared into the shadows.

I stood in the garden for a long time. The photograph of my mother burned in my hand.

Rex was in the kitchen when I came back inside.

He sat at the table. A cup of coffee in front of him. Cold. Un touched. He looked up when I walked in. His eyes went to my bare feet. My wet hem. My face.

You went outside, he said.

I went outside.

In the dark.

I like the dark.

He stood up. Walked to me. Stopped inches from my face.

You are lying, Mira. I can see it in your eyes. You met someone. You got information. And now you are deciding whether to share it with me.

I looked at him. His face was hard. His jaw was tight. He was angry. Not at me. At the situation. At the walls between us.

My mother is in Prague, I said. She has been there for six months.

Rex did not blink. I know.

Of course you know. You know everything.

Not everything, he said. But I know she is not coming back here. She is waiting for something. Or someone.

The traitor, I said. She is waiting for the traitor inside this house to make a move.

Rex nodded. That is what I think too.

Then we find the traitor.

We have been trying, Mira. For weeks. Months. There is nothing. No evidence. No patterns. No mistakes.

Everyone makes mistakes, I said.

Not this person.

Then we make them make a mistake.

Rex tilted his head. His eyes narrowed. What are you suggesting?

I walked to the counter. Poured myself a glass of water. Drank it slow. Let him wait.

We give the traitor something they want, I said. Something they cannot resist. Bait.

What kind of bait?

Me.

Rex's face went dark. No.

You do not get to say no to me.

I am your husband.

You are my ally, I said. My partner in this war. Not my keeper.

He crossed the room. Grabbed my shoulders. Pushed me against the counter.

You are not bait, he said. His voice was low. Rough. His face was inches from mine. I will not let you be bait.

It is my decision.

It is my house. My enemy. My war.

Our war, I said. You said it yourself. Together.

He stared at me. His hands were shaking. I had never seen Rex Marchetti shake.

If something happens to you, he said, I will burn this world to the ground. Every city. Every country. Every person who ever looked at you wrong.

That is not love, I said. That is obsession.

He let go of my shoulders. Stepped back.

Maybe, he said. Maybe that is all I know how to feel.

The moment hung between us. Heavy. Charged.

I should have walked away. Should have gone back to the bedroom and locked the door and pretended I did not care about the pain in his eyes.

But I did not.

I stepped forward. Reached up. Touched his face.

Then learn, I said. Learn how to feel something else.

He grabbed my wrist. Held it against his cheek.

Teach me, he said.

I kissed him.

It was not like before. Not hungry. Not desperate. It was slow. Careful. Like we were both afraid of breaking something fragile.

His arms wrapped around me. Pulled me close. His mouth moved against mine.

I wanted to stay in that moment forever. Wanted to forget about my mother and the traitor and the war.

But my phone buzzed.

I pulled back. Looked at the screen.

Lin.

She is not in Prague anymore. She is on a plane. Destination: here.

My blood went cold.

Rex looked at the screen. His face went hard.

How long? he asked.

I typed the question. Lin answered immediately.

Six hours.

Six hours until my mother landed. Six hours until the woman who faked her death walked back into my life.

We need to prepare, I said.

Rex was already moving. Already on his phone. Calling his men. Giving orders.

I stood in the kitchen and stared at the photograph of my mother.

Green eyes. Sharp. Alive.

Coming for me.

Or coming for something else.

The mansion became a fortress in five hours.

Men with guns. Dogs with sharp teeth. Cameras on every corner. Rex did not sleep. Did not eat. Did not stop moving. I followed him from room to room. Watching. Learning. Waiting.

Mrs. Park found me in the library at dawn.

You should rest, she said.

I cannot.

She sat down across from me. Her face was soft. Older than before.

Your mother is not a monster, she said. She is a woman who made terrible choices.

She faked her death, Mrs. Park. She let me grieve for ten years.

Because she was protecting you.

From what?

From the truth. From the man who wanted to kill you. From the empire she did not want you to inherit.

What truth?

Mrs. Park looked at the door. Lowered her voice.

Your real father, she said. He is not Victor's brother. That was a lie. Your real father is someone else. Someone powerful. Someone dangerous.

Who?

I cannot tell you. Your mother made me promise.

My hands were shaking. My whole body was shaking.

She is coming here, I said. In less than an hour. I will ask her myself.

Mrs. Park stood up. Walked to the door. Paused.

Be careful, Mira. Some truths cannot be unknown.

She walked out.

I sat alone in the library. The sun was rising. Red and gold. Beautiful and terrible.

My mother was coming.

And I had no idea what I would say to her when she arrived.

The plane landed at 7:23 AM.

Rex stood beside me at the window. His hand was on my back. Warm. Steady.

You do not have to do this alone, he said.

I know.

You can stay inside. Let me talk to her first.

No. She is my mother. My war.

He did not argue. He just squeezed my shoulder and walked with me to the front door.

The car pulled up. Black. Tinted windows. The door opened.

A woman stepped out.

Green eyes. Dark hair streaked with gray. A face that looked like my reflection aged twenty years.

My mother.

She walked toward me. Slow. Confident. She stopped a few feet away.

Hello, Sable, she said.

My real name on her lips. The name she gave me. The name she told me to hide.

I did not say anything.

She smiled. It did not reach her eyes.

Aren't you going to invite me inside?

I looked at Rex. He nodded.

I stepped aside.

Welcome home, Mother, I said.

She walked past me. Into the house. Into my war.

And I followed.

Because no matter how much I hated her, she was still my mother.

And I needed answers..