Chapter 15: Mikhail Ra Gual

Two Years Later

"Are you going to talk to me?" I asked with a smile, my voice echoing against the cold stone walls. The sound of rattling chains filled the silence as she stared back at me, her dark eyes void of emotion.

"Fine," I sighed dramatically, "I'll just tell you about your son. He's been following this little girl around—eating with her, training with her." I scoffed. "Like father, like son," she croaked, her voice brittle but steady.

Her response made me smile. It had been too long since she'd spoken.

"You were worth the chase," I said, leaning closer. "But this girl? She's not." My tone darkened with a growl.

"And, as always, you'll do something about it," she deadpanned.

There it was. The detached, unfeeling woman I had fallen for. She killed without hesitation, lived without remorse. I used to think she loved me, but I realized she wasn't capable of love—not the way most people understood it.

Yet, I would take whatever scraps she offered. If I had a heart, I'd give it to her. If I had a soul, I'd let her have that, too.

I stood, curling a strand of her hair around my finger. "Do you remember the first day we met?"

She stared at me, silent.

It was at a gala, the kind where power and corruption danced together under the guise of sophistication. I had entered with Shavon by my side.

"You can stay here," I had told him. Shavon gave me a curt nod, remaining near the entrance while I navigated the room.

The ballroom was filled with influential figures—whispered deals and dark transactions happening just below the surface. People who needed things handled often came to me, their requests paid for with exorbitant sums.

As I moved through the crowd, a hand grazed my shoulder. I turned to find a stunning woman in a tight satin red dress. Her jet-black hair framed a face so striking it could disarm armies.

She smirked, her lips curling mischievously as she let her hand slide down from my shoulder to my chest. Leaning in, she whispered into my ear, her breath warm against my skin.

"Fifty seconds. Left exit. Second room on the right."

Before I could respond, she walked away, her hips swaying with purpose.

Intrigued, I excused myself, setting down my drink and heading toward the exit she mentioned. I opened the door to find her waiting, her smirk sharper than any blade.

She wasted no time, pushing me against the door with surprising strength.

"You're a beauty," I muttered, still grinning.

"I know," she replied flatly.

I grabbed her neck, pulling her into a kiss that was as much a battle as it was an embrace. Her nails grazed my chest as I lifted her leg, pinning her against me.

Then, in a flash, she struck. A knife gleamed in her hand as she aimed for my side. I caught her wrist just in time, twisting her around and pressing her chest against the door.

"Who do you work for?" I demanded, throwing the knife to the floor.

She only smiled, tossing her head back to catch me off guard. I stumbled slightly, and she took the chance to cartwheel away, heading for the window.

I threw my knife after her, but she caught it midair, her reflexes flawless.

She hurled it back at me, and I barely ducked in time. By the time I regained my footing, she had leaped through the window, zip-lining to the ground and vanishing into the crowd below.

"You escaped me," I murmured, shaking my head at the memory.

"But you found me again," she said bitterly.

"Of course, my love," I replied, the term dripping with mockery. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"LET ME OUT!" she screamed as I closed the metal door behind me.

I met the guards outside. "Don't feed her today," I ordered, my voice calm but firm. "I didn't like her attitude."

They nodded, and I ascended the stairs, finding Shavon waiting for me at the top.

"Walk with me," I said.

We moved down the hallway together. "How has Hayeon's training been going?" I asked.

Shavon's lips tightened, and for a brief moment, I saw hesitation in his stride. But he quickly recovered.

"Her teachers report that she has excelled in her studies. She now speaks fluently in four languages, and we're working on the other two. Her weapons training is progressing well," he answered.

We entered my office, and I sat at my desk.

"Do you think she's ready?" I asked, studying his face.

Shavon's jaw clenched. "I know what this is about," he admitted.

"Do you?" I replied, raising an eyebrow.

"I know they spend too much time together, but—"

"But nothing," I interrupted, my tone sharp. "I don't like it. She doesn't seem like just a toy anymore. He seems to be in love with her."

"Azail doesn't feel emotions, Mikha'il Ra Ghul," Shavon said, his tone carrying a rare hint of anger.

He was protective of Hayeon. I could see it.

"What do you advise me to do?" I asked, leaning back in my chair.

"It's been two years since Azail went on a mission," Shavon said after a moment. "Send him on one. Tighten the leash but make it long."

A grin spread across my face, and I clapped my hands. "This is why you're my right hand. Great idea."

There was a knock at the door.

"Come in," I called.

Revien entered, closing the door behind him. At fifteen, he was taller now, his wavy locks a haunting echo of my younger self.

"Father," he greeted flatly.

"Ah, son," I said, gesturing to Shavon. "He just gave me a wonderful idea. You're going on a mission. Pack your things—it'll be a long one."

"Not going," he snapped.

"That was an order," I replied, my tone hardening.

"Send someone else," he demanded.

"No."

"Fine," he growled, "but I'm bringing Hayeon."

"No," Shavon interjected firmly.

Revien turned, glaring at Shavon.

"You'll go with the others," I said, cutting through the tension. I handed him a folder. "Study this. Formulate your plan. I want intel. You leave in two days."

Revien snatched the folder and slammed the door behind him.

"You may go, Shavon. And thank you," I said, dismissing him with a nod.

Shavon left without another word.

Everything was falling into place. With time apart, Revien would forget all about Hayeon. Maybe he'd even find a new toy.