There was a short pause after the doorbell rang.
Urgent knocks echoed through the dimly lit apartment, the flickering light casting eerie shadows on the wall. But no one came. The only pair of tiny feet that would normally run to open it was now a corpse.
The door burst open. A woman stumbled in, her face and clothes smeared with blood. Tears glistening in her dull eyes. She dragged her dispirited feet towards the cold body in the room.
She trembled. Her vision spun, her limbs had lost all vitality. The pain had emptied her lungs of air.
"No... no! Not my son... not my son..."
What good was it to be so skillful in combat if she wasn’t there while her loved one was being murdered?
“Jonathan… baby…” she wailed as she pulled the child’s head to her chest. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry… Mommy is sorry. I am so sorry…”
What good was it to work as a dog, if before she could strike, her human had bitten her?
Carolina’s eyes reddened from crying. She stared down at her child and touched his cold face. Her mind was a whirlwind of grief and rage, each memory of her son a fresh stab to her heart. She could barely comprehend the reality that her child was gone.
“How do you expect me to go on without you? This isn’t fair…”
The metallic smell of blood mingled with the faint scent of Jonathan’s shampoo, creating a nauseating blend that made Carolina’s stomach churn.
As the door unlocked and footsteps approached, Carolina’s heart raced. She knew she had to act quickly, but her grief anchored her to the spot.
In her peripheral vision, she saw several men standing on guard, ready to kill her. This was the price of her breach of contract as an assassin, the most sought-after in the market. She always did her job with no hitch, always loyal to her service contract.
Growing up as an orphan, she knew nothing but loyalty to the hand that fed her. Even that one thing had been consumed by hatred when she learned that her parents’ demise, the mother of every misfortune and unhappiness in her life, was caused by the person she gave her life to serve.
When Jonathan came into her life, she wanted to become a mother he could be proud of. She wanted to protect him at any cost. She knew her master would never spare her child's life. And she knew... she knew too well that there was no way her master would cut the leash on her neck to set her free. The only way she could quit her sinful life was to obliterate the organization that nurtured her. Nip it from the bud.
A man stepped forward from the crowd of armed gangs. His cold eyes reflected a twisted satisfaction. “You always were my favorite, Carolina,” he sneered. “Such a pity you had to betray me.”
She glared at the man whom she served all her life. She was his faithful dog. Funny enough, this was how their relationship would end.
“You always did your job excellently. That’s why I treated you like a partner, although you were originally just a hound dog. Now you’ve come to bite me.”
His void eyes settled on the deceased boy Carolina was hugging. “All for a kid.”
Carolina clenched her fists. All for a kid? Jonathan was her everything!
“I fed and raised you, put a roof above your head! And this is how you pay me?” he taunted. “I was absolutely in the dark that you were plotting to kill me this entire time.”
When he took a step closer, Carolina shouted, “Don’t come any closer! Stay away from my child, you son of a bitch.”
The man grinned evilly. “Did you think I wouldn’t find out about your son? Did you actually think you could hide him from me forever? You think that you can safely kill me if I know nothing about your son?” He laughed loud and ominously. “Twenty years, and you haven’t learned anything. How disappointing. You leave me no choice—I must discard you.”
“Fuck you, Drogo. Fuck you,” Carolina cursed with every breath she had. “Death can't stop me. I will find you and drag you to hell.”
Drogo smirked, smug and unfrightened by her threats. He raised a hand to give the signal.
His men tightened their grip on their weapons, eyes fixed on Carolina. Every second felt like a countdown to her death.
She shuddered. She couldn’t die yet. She had to avenge her son’s death.
Her hands shook as she cradled her son’s lifeless body, her sobs echoing through the empty room. “Jonathan… my sweet boy… mommy loves you. Mommy loves you so much. If I could, I’d rise from the dead and avenge you. I’m sorry, baby. I’m sorry.”
As she repeatedly chanted words of regret and love, the guns fired. She felt every bullet as it buried deep in her flesh.
But even as she was dying, she never let go of her son. At that moment when she was in between life and death, she heard his laughter. She smelled his scent... felt the touch of his soft skin.
She wanted nothing but to see, hear, and feel him again. She submerged into oblivion. She didn't know for how long she was out, but suddenly, she could feel pain no more. She looked around and nothing but pitch-black darkness surrounded her.
Was she dead?
Just as she succumbed to the darkness, Carolina heard a faint, pleading voice. It pulled her back, anchoring her to an unfamiliar reality.
“Jonathan?” she called, but the only response she heard was the echo of her voice.
If she was dead, why wasn’t her son with her?
The voice came again; tiny and fragile and… dying.
“H-help…”
Carolina looked behind. Her senses were fully alert. “Who’s there?”
Then she heard another—screaming and manic voice.
“You bird-brained fool! All you had to do was keep quiet! You have done nothing right in your life!”
She glinted warily in the dark. Who was that? Where did that come from?
“Hello? Is someone there?” she called again.
Normally, even in the darkness, she would’ve been alert to any noise and movement. She was trained for that. Strangely, there was nothing in her surroundings but silence. Nothing to keep her guard up.
Then...
She gasped. She was being sucked towards somewhere. She fought the force and waved her hand around to look for something to grab on.
“AAAAAAAH!”
She saw flashes of images—of people she hadn’t seen before. She heard voices... voices she could not recognize.
“Clay-Clay, grandma doesn’t hate you. She’s just… she’s a poor soul. You believe your mom, right?” She heard a soft-spoken woman.
“CLEOPATRA! YOU HAVE BROKEN ANOTHER PLATE! Why can’t you do anything right?” She heard another voice.
Who was Clay-Clay? And Cleopatra?
Who were these people? Who were they talking to?
Suddenly, the force that was hauling her stopped. Just stopped.
Someone tugged at her. “Stop playing around! Do you seriously want me to kill you?!”
She felt that tug. It was real!
She wasn’t… dead?
With that possibility in mind, she opened her eyes, and she met a gaze she could only describe as ill-intent. She had met all types of criminals. She, herself, was one, but she hadn’t met a gaze as despicable as this one.
But…
“Who in the fucking hell are you?”
The old woman’s eyes circled in shock. Carolina sat up and surveyed the room quietly with her eyes.
Where was she? Where was her son? She touched her body and was surprised to see that not a single bullet was in her.
Was it all a dream?
“Cleopatra, you’re not dead?”
Carolina’s eyes squinted in puzzlement. “Cleopatra? Who is that?”