Chapter 63: Calm Before the Tempest

Zeyla strolled down the grand hallway of the estate, stretching her arms lazily as the early morning light filtered through the towering windows. She was in a good mood—until she spotted something that made her stop mid-step.

The corridor was silent.

Too silent.

Zeyla, strolling with a cup of morning tea in hand, spotted movement ahead.

She slowed down, eyes narrowing.

Maya.

Slowly. Tiptoeing. Out of Lior's room.

The door creaked as she ever-so-gently pulled it shut behind her, her hands trembling like she was defusing a bomb.

Zeyla's gaze dragged over Maya's appearance.

Messy hair? Check.

Smudged lipstick? Check.

Clothes slightly wrinkled like she had spent the night in a heated battle? CHECK.

Zeyla's soul ascended.

She clapped a hand over her mouth, choking back an evil cackle.

Maya turned.

Their eyes met.

Maya froze.

Zeyla grinned.

A wicked, victorious, I-am-about-to-ruin-your-life grin.

"Oh. My. GOD." Zeyla gasped, clutching her chest. "This… this is… this is the best morning of my life."

Maya's face exploded into color.

"No, no, NO—Zeyla, shut UP—" she hissed, spinning around like she could escape.

Zeyla darted forward, blocking her path. "Not so fast, Miss 'There's NOTHING between me and Lior!'" She mockingly imitated Maya's serious voice from yesterday.

Maya covered her face, shaking her head violently. "I swear if you—"

"Oh no, no, no, don't you dare shut down this conversation." Zeyla pointed a dramatic finger at her. "Let's rewind to last night's meeting, shall we? When someone very loudly declared, 'LIOR? AS IF! I would never!'"

"I—"

"AND YET." Zeyla gestured at everything.

Maya groaned, burying her burning face in her hands.

"Oh my GOD, LOOK at you," Zeyla howled. "Your lipstick is GONE, Maya! Where is it? WHERE DID IT GO?"

"NOWHERE." Maya shouted, panicking.

"Ohhhh, honey." Zeyla fake gasped. "Did Lior eat it?"

Maya grabbed Zeyla's arm and shook her violently. "I HATE YOU."

Zeyla screamed with laughter, pushing her off.

Then she paused.

Her grin widened.

"Oh my GOD, you're barefoot."

Maya looked down.

"OH GOD."

"WHERE. ARE. YOUR. SHOES?" Zeyla shrieked, losing her mind.

"I—I LEFT THEM IN MY ROOM, OKAY?!" Maya snapped, her whole face burning.

Zeyla doubled over, wheezing. "YOU DID THE WALK OF SHAME!"

Maya lunged at her. Zeyla dodged.

And that's when the door behind them creaked open.

Zeyla looked up—

And saw Lior.

SHIRTLESS. DISHEVELED. LOOKING HALF-ASLEEP.

Maya went rigid.

Lior blinked at Maya, then wrapped an arm around her waist from behind, pulling her against him. His voice was husky, lazy.

"Mmm… what's wrong, love?"

Zeyla's soul left her body.

Maya's BRAIN BLUE-SCREENED.

Zeyla's jaw dropped to the floor.

Lior blinked at Maya's utterly mortified face.

Then—

Then he finally looked up and saw Zeyla.

A full three seconds of silence.

Then—

Lior's entire existence shattered.

"HOLY—"

He shoved Maya away like she was on fire, frantically grabbing his robe from inside the room. He stumbled, nearly died, and barely managed to tie it around himself, eyes wide with horror.

"Z-ZEYLA?!!" His voice cracked. "WHY—WHAT—HOW—WHY ARE YOU HERE?!"

Zeyla threw her head back and CACKLED.

"Oh my GOD," she wheezed, clutching her stomach. "This is BEAUTIFUL. I AM THRIVING."

Maya snapped out of her daze and whirled around, FURIOUS. "LIOR, WHAT THE HELL?!!"

"ME?! WHY AM I GETTING YELLED AT?!" Lior shouted back.

"BECAUSE YOU—YOU—" Maya flailed.

"BECAUSE HE WHAT?" Zeyla butted in, gleeful. "Because he looked half-naked and pulled you into his arms like some romance novel hero?"

Maya's entire soul combusted.

"I—"

"She's right, actually," Lior said seriously. "I do look like a romance novel hero."

"SHUT UP, LIOR," Maya shrieked.

"Yeah, shut up, Lior," Zeyla agreed, then paused. "Wait, no, keep talking—this is fantastic."

Maya grabbed her own hair, looking like she wanted to die.

And then—

Zeyla snorted.

"Oh. Oh my God," she whispered. "Maya."

Maya, too exhausted to fight, just groaned. "What now?"

Zeyla grinned like the devil himself.

"You still have his lipstick on your lips."

Maya exploded.

"AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!"

Lior immediately wiped his mouth, panicked.

Zeyla collapsed onto the floor laughing.

"I CAN'T—I CAN'T BREATHE—" she gasped, tears forming.

Maya, murder in her eyes, pointed at Zeyla. "IF YOU SAY **ONE WORD OF THIS TO MADAM NOOR—"

Zeyla perked up. "Oh, Lady Noor? Oh, she must definitely hear about this—"

Lior lunged. "NO, SHE WILL NOT."

Maya lunged. "Zeyla, I SWEAR TO GOD."

Zeyla sprinted away, laughing like a maniac. "OH, MY LADY NOOR~"

"CATCH HER!!"

Maya and Lior chased after her, their panicked screams echoing through the halls

While Zeyla ran for her life, shrieking with laughter.

---

The morning sun filtered through the grand windows of Noor's estate, casting golden streaks across the polished marble. The air was cool, crisp, deceptively peaceful.

At the long dining table, Noor sat with perfect composure, sipping her tea. Across from her, Maya and Zeyla stood, presenting their morning reports.

Well—Maya was trying to.

Zeyla, on the other hand, was doing her absolute best to make it impossible.

Maya straightened her back, forcing a professional tone. "Perimeter scouts reported movement on the southern ridge. Kieren Drago's forces will likely reach the outer territory by nightfall."

Noor set her teacup down. "Response?"

Zeyla smirked, arms crossed. "We've already positioned our men. They're keeping an eye on the situation… just like Maya was keeping an eye on security last night."

Maya's entire body stiffened.

Noor gave a slight nod. "Good."

Maya quickly pushed forward. "Snipers have been stationed at the watchtowers. The inner defenses are fortified."

Zeyla tilted her head, grinning. "Mmm. You were also very thorough with… your inspections, weren't you, Maya?"

Maya swallowed hard. "Of—of course."

Noor remained unbothered. "Supply lines?"

Maya forced herself to focus. "The final shipment of weapons arrived last night. Everything has been accounted for and distributed."

Zeyla gasped softly. "Oh, so that's why you were out so late. Managing… shipments. How responsible."

Maya's eye twitched.

Noor, still composed, nodded approvingly. "Good."

Maya continued, praying Zeyla would drop it. "The orphan evacuations are ahead of schedule. The last group will leave before sundown."

Zeyla hummed. "You know, Maya, you look exhausted. I wonder why." She tapped her chin. "Must be all that hard work last night."

Maya's soul left her body.

Noor remained entirely unfazed.

Maya cleared her throat aggressively. "We've also reinforced the underground tunnels."

Zeyla nodded sagely. "Ah, tunnels. Secret passages. Sneaking in and out undetected. Sounds very… familiar."

Maya nearly choked.

Noor's gaze finally lifted. "Is there a problem?"

Maya stood at attention instantly. "No, Madam Noor. No problems at all."

Zeyla grinned but said nothing.

Noor glanced at them both for a brief moment—then simply returned to her tea.

"Then we proceed as planned."

The war was about to begin.

Noor took another sip of her tea, her expression unreadable. The morning light cast a golden glow over her porcelain skin, making her seem almost otherworldly in her stillness.

The teasing had stopped.

The weight of war settled over the room like an unspoken truth.

Maya, still recovering from Zeyla's relentless torment, composed herself. "The southern perimeter is our weakest point. If Drago attacks, it'll be there."

Zeyla, now fully serious, nodded. "We've reinforced the secondary barricades, but if they breach it, we'll have to lure them further inside—where our traps will be most effective."

Noor finally spoke. "How many men?"

Maya straightened. "Scout estimates place them at five hundred. That's what we know of. More could be stationed further back, waiting."

A soft exhale escaped Zeyla's lips. "Tch. He's bringing an army to take one woman's home. A little excessive, don't you think?"

Maya didn't answer.

Because they all knew—it wasn't excessive at all.

It was necessary.

Kieren Drago had been waiting for this moment for years.

The weight of war lingered in the air, thick and suffocating. But beneath it, Noor could sense it.

She had noticed it the moment Maya walked in.

Zeyla, satisfied with her morning torment, finally stretched. "Well, if we're done here, I'm off to prepare. Try not to miss me too much, Maya."

Maya sent her a glare, but Zeyla only grinned, unfazed, before slipping out the doors, leaving the hall in sudden silence.

The echoes of Zeyla's laughter had long faded, leaving behind a silence that felt heavier than steel.

Maya stood, hands clasped behind her back, forcing herself to remain composed. Across from her, Noor sat in her usual place, a vision of immovable grace.

She wasn't staring. She wasn't questioning. She was waiting.

And that was worse.

Maya cleared her throat, pushing past the tension curling in her chest. "I'll begin preparations for—"

Noor's fingers barely moved as she reached for her tea, lifting the delicate porcelain cup with the kind of effortless control that made Maya's own body feel too rigid, too aware.

"You seem distracted."

Maya's breath hitched.

It wasn't pity. . It wasn't even concern. It was just… Noor seeing. Noor knowing.

"I'm fine," Maya said, too quickly.

Noor's lashes lowered slightly, her grip steady as she placed the cup back onto its saucer with a soft clink. "Of course."

The way she said it made Maya's fingers curl against her palms.

Noor leaned back, eyes drifting toward the open window, where the sheer curtains swayed with the morning breeze.

"The human mind is fascinating," she murmured.

Maya inhaled sharply. Here it comes.

Noor's tone remained smooth, almost detached. "We train it to be disciplined. To be sharp. We tell ourselves that logic is our foundation, that emotions are mere distractions to be tamed." She exhaled, slow, controlled. "And yet…"

She turned, her gaze locking onto Maya with quiet precision.

"When the heart decides to speak," Noor said, her voice as steady as the tide, "the mind listens."

Maya's throat went dry.

She already knew.

Maya forced herself to hold her gaze. "Not always."

Noor's lips barely curved, something between amusement and understanding.

"No," she agreed softly. "Not always."

The silence stretched.

Maya's heartbeat drummed loudly in her ears.

Why did it feel like she was standing on the edge of something? Why did it feel like Noor had already decided to push her off?

Noor tilted her head slightly, her dark hair shifting like silk as she studied her. "We like to believe we are above such things."

Maya knew what she meant.

The things Noor had taught her.

The things Noor had mastered.

The things Maya had built her entire existence upon.

And yet—

She thought of Lior's hands, gripping her waist. The warmth of his breath against her skin.

Maya clenched her jaw. She had not fallen. She had not wavered.

Had she?

Noor's voice was quiet, but it cut through her thoughts like a blade.

"Even the strongest of us, the ones who build walls high enough to touch the sky…" Her lashes lowered slightly. "…will one day hear a voice that makes them hesitate. A touch that makes them tremble."

Maya's fingers dug into her palms.

She had spent years mastering discipline. Restraint. Devotion to duty. Noor had trained her, molded her, shown her how to move without hesitation, how to make decisions with precision.

And yet—

Noor's next words were soft, but unyielding.

"And in that moment, everything we thought was solid… collapses like sand beneath the tide."

Maya's breath came too sharp, too uneven.

Noor continued, her tone too calm, too knowing. "Some call it weakness." A pause. "But that, too, is a lie."

Maya bit the inside of her cheek, willing herself to stay composed.

Noor's eyes never wavered. "Tell me, Maya. What is weakness?"

Maya blinked. "It's—" She stopped.

She didn't have an answer.

Noor leaned forward slightly, her presence filling the space between them. "Is it the inability to resist?"

Maya opened her mouth, then closed it.

"Or," Noor continued, voice silk-wrapped steel, "is it the lie we tell ourselves that we are immune?"

The words hit like a blade against stone.

Maya swallowed, her pulse thrumming in her ears.

She wanted to argue. To deny it.

But Noor had already exposed the truth.

Noor was no fool. She had seen every crack, every hesitation, every unspoken battle Maya had tried to bury.

And yet—

Noor had not condemned her.

That realization sent something twisting painfully in Maya's chest.

Noor had seen her struggle, her faltering control—and yet, she had not looked at her with disappointment.

Maya dared to take a breath.

Noor leaned back, her lashes lowering as she exhaled. "It is good to be prepared."

Maya's spine straightened. "I am prepared."

Noor didn't argue.

She only watched.

A slow nod. "Good."

Then—softer, quieter, almost an afterthought.

"It is good to say your goodbyes."

Maya stilled.

The words landed like a dagger between her ribs.

Her stomach twisted.

Because Noor was no longer speaking in theory.

Maya was leaving.

She was infiltrating Drangheta.

And Noor was asking her if she was ready.

Noor finally lifted her gaze again, meeting Maya's with the weight of something deeper, something far colder.

"Tell me, Maya."

The air grew still.

"Are you prepared?"

Maya couldn't answer.

She was asking if Maya understood what it meant to leave—

What it meant to face death.

What it meant to lose something before she even had the chance to hold it.

And for the first time, Maya didn't know.

Noor watched her for a long moment before setting her cup down once more, returning her gaze to the window.

Maya had no choice but to sit there, silent, drowning in the unspoken.

And in that moment, she understood—

Lior had not just stepped into her world.

He had stepped into Noor's.

And if Maya was not careful…

He would not leave it unscathed.

________

Noor had always been meticulous in her plans, leaving nothing to chance. To the world, her estate was home to the finest men and women—each one handpicked for their grace, beauty, and intelligence. They glided about like perfectly polished statues—tending to gardens, polishing silver, offering quiet smiles to guests.

But underneath those flawless appearances? A well-oiled, lethal machine. Her servants were assassins. Every one of them. Trained in the deadliest arts, honed by Noor herself. They could wipe out an entire battalion in under a minute if she asked them to. But you'd never know it. To the untrained eye, they were just perfect, pretty faces serving tea.

Zeyla, passed by, wiping her hands with a cloth, looking at the weapon she was cleaning like it had offended her.

"Can you please stop looking at that blade like it's a child you're about to send to school?" Maya said, smirking at the exaggerated, almost loving gaze Zeyla was giving her sword.

"I just like to make sure it's ready for battle," Zeyla said innocently, still polishing. "You never know when someone might need a 'heart-to-heart' conversation with it."

"Oh, I'm sure that's what you're thinking about every time you sharpen it." Maya rolled her eyes. "You can't keep flirting with your weapons. One day, I'm going to have to stage an intervention."

Zeyla shot her a look that was entirely too smug. "I prefer the term 'romantic attachment.' I'm just waiting for it to return the feelings."

"Trust me," Maya said, leaning closer, her voice teasing, "That weapon has zero interest in you. It's probably already in a committed relationship with your dagger collection."

Zeyla grinned. "We'll see about that."

Maya trying not to laugh, cleared her throat. "No more weapon-based dating drama, I have enough to deal with today."

"Maya don't be so dramatic," Noor said, her eyes gleaming. "It's just a siege. What's the worst that could happen?"

Maya threw up her hands in mock exasperation. "A siege? Really? You're going to do this? You know, I thought we were all going to be 'warriors' and not 'optimists' today. Can you please sound a little more worried? You're making us look bad."

Noor smirked. "Fine. The Maya, save us with your tactical genius."

"You're welcome," Maya replied dryly, flipping her hair like she was on some red carpet event. "I'll get right on that after my nap."

As the chatter continued, Noor's thoughts shifted to the children—their orphans, the ones she loved like her own. They were her heart, her treasure. And as much as she'd trained them to fight, to survive, they didn't deserve to be in the middle of this mess.

"Well, that's cheerful," Zeyla said, following Noor's gaze out the window, where the younger orphans were playing innocently, unaware of the approaching storm. "Sending the little ones away like they're going to camp. Should I tell them to pack sunscreen or swords?"

Noor sighed, her smile fading slightly. "They deserve peace. No one's going to hurt them, I won't let anyone."

Zeyla clicked her tongue. "You know they're going to come back eventually and want to know what happened, right? I'm just saying, maybe you should tell them a story."

"No," Noor said, smirking. "I'm going with 'special assignments.' The younger ones will think they're on a mission."

"Cute.Really. You're sending them off like a bunch of field agents? What's next, telling them they're going undercover in the candy shop?" Maya chimed in, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Exactly," Noor replied. "They'll be in dangerous situations like getting extra sugar on their candy and possibly sneaking a second cupcake."

"Is there a 'Noor's Academy of Terrifyingly Cute Spies' I don't know about?" Zeyla asked, leaning back dramatically. "Because I could totally sign up."

Noor grinned. "You think you could pass the test? There's still better then you."

Maya's eyes narrowed. "And if you get caught? Are they going to send you to the 'Dungeon of Not Quite Enough Frosting'?"

As the lighthearted chatter died down, Noor's mind turned back to Kieren Drago. He had been planning this for years—his lust for vengeance had been simmering and, now, it was finally boiling over. He was coming for her, and he thought he could take everything she'd worked for.

Zeyla stretched, bored. "So, this Drago guy, huh? What's his plan? Bring cookies, or does he have something spicier in mind?"

Noor's face tightened. "Unless his idea of 'spicy' involves destroying everything I've worked for."

Maya raised an eyebrow. "Yeah that sounds a lot less fun.If he thinks he can beat us, he's got another thing coming. You've built up this fortress like a very overprotective mom at a kids' birthday party."

Zeyla snickered. "I'm sure Drago would love a slice of 'Tactical Terror' chocolate cake."

"Don't tempt me," Maya said, eyes glinting. "I might just send him a cake with real 'fireworks' inside."

Zeyla deadpanned, "You really know how to ruin someone's appetite."

Serin, who had entered the room silently and was watching with a bemused expression, finally spoke up. "You guys do realize we're preparing for a massive siege, right? This isn't a cooking competition."

Noor raised an eyebrow. "What's the difference? I'm building an empire, Serin. And you know what they say: 'A good defense... starts with a well-baked pie.'"

Zeyla snickered. "I think we've found our new motto."

Serin gave her a long, deadpan stare. "Someone stop her before she starts inviting enemies to tea."

"Don't worry," Noor said casually, "If Drago shows up, I'll just invite him. I hear he's very fond of betrayal and frosting."

Maya clapped her hands together. "Perfect! We'll serve it with a side of revenge flavored icing."

Zeyla grinned. "I knew I liked you for a reason."

Zeyla leaned against the doorframe, casually glancing over at Maya as she gathered her gear. "So, Drangheta, huh?" she said, her tone light but with an undercurrent of something darker. "You sure you're ready for that? I mean, they don't exactly welcome guests with open arms."

Maya didn't look up, her fingers methodically checking her equipment. "You know me, Zeyla. I'm always ready for whatever comes next." Her voice was steady, but there was an edge to it that betrayed her calm demeanor.

Zeyla smirked, folding her arms. "Always the professional, huh? Gotta say, I admire your confidence. I'll be sure to send you flowers if you don't make it back."

Maya didn't laugh. Instead, she straightened, locking eyes with Zeyla for the briefest moment. "You do that. Just make sure the arrangement is tasteful."

Zeyla raised her brows. "Ooh, tough one . Got some nerves, huh?"

But before Maya could answer, Noor's voice cut through the conversation like a blade.

"Maya," she said, her tone flat and deliberate. "Do you truly believe that infiltrating Drangheta will be the end of it? Or is there a part of you that already knows the price of this mission?"

Maya paused, the question hanging in the air like a weight she hadn't expected. She turned toward Noor, but the woman's gaze was already fixed on something beyond her, distant, as though she were somewhere else entirely.

Zeyla's voice broke the silence, dripping with sarcasm. "Oh, here we go. Getting all philosophical now, are we? Maya's a professional. She knows the risks. Right, Maya?"

But Noor ignored Zeyla's attempt at deflecting the tension. Her voice grew quieter, almost as if she were speaking to herself, but still loud enough for Maya to hear. "You think you're stepping into their world, but you forget, Maya, it's always their world you're stepping into. You're not the one in control. And once you cross that line, it doesn't matter how much you convince yourself that you're still you—that you can still walk away from it all when you've done what they wanted."

Maya's hand froze on the last piece of gear she was adjusting. She hadn't expected this.

Serin, who had been silently observing, stepped forward. "Madam Noor's right, Maya. The Drangheta doesn't just leave people untouched. You're already marked the moment you make the choice to cross that threshold."

Maya bit down on her frustration, her eyes darkening. "I know what I'm doing. I'm not going to let them control me."

Noor's gaze remained unreadable, her voice cold, as though the warmth of human connection had long since left her.

Maya's breath hitched, though she didn't show it. She forced herself to speak, her voice quiet but firm. "I'll survive. And I'll make sure they pay."

Noor studied her for a long moment, and for once, there was a flicker of something almost imperceptible in her eyes—something like pity, or perhaps resignation. "Survival is never the same as living, Maya. Survival leaves scars that never fade.You must live ."

Zeyla, sensing the mood shift, tried to lighten things up, though it lacked its usual bite. "Well, I guess we'll just have to see who comes back. The invincible Maya, or someone… a little different."

Maya didn't answer. She grabbed her bag and slung it over her shoulder, her mind now a storm of emotions she didn't want to face. The last thing she needed was Noor's words crawling under her skin. But as she turned toward the door, she couldn't help but feel that Noor's warning wasn't just empty philosophy—it was a truth, one she wasn't ready to admit.

She paused, glanced back at Noor, whose expression remained as cold and unreadable as ever. "I'll be back," Maya said, her voice steadier now, masking the doubts that were starting to creep in.

Zeyla nodded once, her eyes narrowing, her lips pressing into a thin line. "Don't come back broken, Maya. If you can't handle it, don't walk back through that door."

Without another word, Maya left. And Noor remained, as always, still and silent.

Serin, his voice low, said, "You know what that mission does to her. Are you sure you want her to carry it alone?"

Noor's eyes softened for just a fraction of a second. "I never said she had to carry it alone. But some things can't be prevented. The mission is hers to bear."

Serin didn't press further, but the heaviness in his silence said everything. For Noor, there were no easy answers, no comforting words, only the weight of harsh truths. And sometimes, that was all she could offer.