Lahat ng Kabanata ng Saving Anastasia: Kabanata 1 - Kabanata 7

"Grandpa, why can’t I play with them?"My voice was small, almost afraid of the answer. I stood at the edge of the training field, watching the kids chase each other like butterflies in the wind. Their laughter floated in the air like songbird so free and light. I wanted to join them. I wanted to feel that lightness too.But Grandpa’s eyes were made of stone that day.“Because you’re different, Anastasia,” he said, his tone firm like a steel door closing. “Playing like them won’t make you the greatest agent.”I blinked up at him, my heart aching in a way I couldn’t name. I was only seven. I didn’t understand why fun was a crime.My hands were shaking as I stepped onto the training mat. Tears blurred my eyes as he tossed the wooden staff toward me. I caught it—barely.“Guard up,” he barked. “Footwork. Focus!”The world became a blur of pain and sweat. My legs burned. My arms ached. The stick knocked against mine again and again. I stumbled. I fell. I cried—not just from the stinging bru

I pulled my Aventador Lp 780-4 Ultimae to a stop in front of the N.S.A headquarters. The engine whispered to a hush, but my thoughts roared louder than ever. It had been years since I'd stood on this sacred, storm-touched ground—this place that shaped me and scarred me.The main building loomed like a forgotten palace, tall and proud, cloaked in its old glory. Behind it, the dorms rose with ancient columns and watchful statues, like silent sentinels still guarding memories left behind. Around it all, vast gyms, fields, and training centers spread out like war camps built to sharpen both body and soul.It was breathtaking—the land of my making, and sometimes, my undoing. A battlefield and a sanctuary. A place I once ran from but never truly left behind.Now that I’m here again, every corner whispers stories I thought I’d buried. I didn’t expect to feel it, but I do—I missed this place. And more than that, I missed him—my grandfather. As I walked towards the main building's door, my foo

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 4 •My uncle’s office was dim, the only light spilling from the lamp that cast long shadows across the maps and dossiers scattered on his desk. His presence was commanding, the kind that silenced even the restless air.“Alpha Team,” he began, his voice carrying the weight of iron. “We’ve intercepted intel. Children are being abducted. The syndicate is harvesting their organs for the black market.”The words struck like a blade. My chest tightened. I felt Sabina stiffen beside me, her usual grin gone, replaced by a grim line. Quatro’s fists clenched, and Khalil’s eyes flickered with unease.We always had missions—most of them life and death. But when the mission was about children, something in us shifted. We became different. Sharper. Colder. Because innocence stolen was a crime that burned deeper than any battlefield wound.My uncle’s gaze swept across us, sharp and unyielding. “I know you are all still training and just starting out again. But I need your team on this

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 6 •The backup agents had already slipped through the open door when they reached us. Two of them took Miguel gently by the arms and lifted him toward the corridor. I rose to my feet and met his eyes; for a heartbeat the lab fell away and it was just the two of us. I gave him a small, steadying nod and an assuring smile.Miguel returned the smile, then surprised me by wriggling free of the agent’s grip and running into my arms. He hugged my waist with the fierce, unselfconscious relief of a child who had been lost and then found. I kept my face composed, though my chest tightened. I ruffled his hair with a fingertip; he looked up at me, earnest and exhausted. “Thank you,” he said, voice thin but sincere, before letting go and falling back into the agent’s hand.Agent Quatro entered then, his grin broad and unapologetic. “That was a good job for us!” he crowed. I rolled my eyes. “Where are Agents Dos and Singko?” I asked.They came in together, uniforms streaked with grim