"Emma made the honor roll again." I manage a small smile, remembering Ghost's proud grin when he showed us the report card. "And yeah, Sherlock still hasn't worked up the courage to ask Sarah out. He's written about fifteen different versions of what he'll say."
Mom laughs, and for a moment, everything does feel almost normal. She gets up to pour more tea, asking about my apartment, whether I'm eating enough, if I've considered getting a cat for company. The same questions she always asks when she’s trying to avoid my work.
Then my phone rings.
The home office number flashes on the screen. That strange restless feeling surges as I answer, like my body knows something's coming. "Mathieson."
“Another body," Ghost's voice is tight, urgent in a way that makes my skin crawl. The background noise tells me he's already at headquarters—boots on metal stairs, the hum of the tactical gear room. "Same marks. Hayes is moving wheels up to midnight. How fast can you get here?"
I check my watch. 10:15 PM. "I'm at Mom's. Two hours to pack, say goodbye, and drive back to headquarters."
"Put your lights on. Make it an hour thirty." Something crashes in the background. "This thing's escalating, Blades. The vic—" He lowers his voice. "The pictures are bad. Worse than the others."
The line goes dead. When I look up, Mom's face has already closed off, that brief moment of normalcy shattered.
"You have to go." It's not a question.
"Another victim in Rome. They've moved up our departure." I'm already standing, gathering my bag. That pull under my skin is stronger now, almost like it's trying to tell me something. "I'm sorry, I?—"
"You won't even get any sleep." The worry in her voice cuts deep. "Astrid, please. At least wait until morning."
"I can't. The longer we wait..." Another body. Another family getting the same news we got when dad was killed. "I have to go."
My phone buzzes again where it sits on the table between us. The screen illuminates with the mission brief notification, marking the files as time-sensitive. Mom's eyes drop to the glowing display, then lift to my face. I watch the fleeting emotions—first hope that I might ignore it, then the inevitable resignation when she realizes I won’t.
Her shoulders drop a fraction, that subtle surrender cutting deeper than any blade.
"The team needs me," I say softly.
"No." She sets down her untouched tea. "GUIDE needs their weapon. But you're still my daughter, and I need you alive more than they need another victory. Promise me you'll be careful in Rome. Promise me you'll come back."
"I promise." But we both know the promise is hollow. I hug her goodbye. She feels so fragile in my arms—this fierce, loving woman who raised a daughter whose very existence is illegal.
"I love you," she whispers.
"Love you too." I pull away before I lose control and start crying. I really needed this break, but duty always comes first. GUIDE doesn't allow for anything else.
Outside, Mrs. Jacob’s lights are still on, but I don't see her in the window. A magnetic tension radiates through my muscles as I start the car, like it's trying to pull me toward something—or warn me away. I've learned to trust my instincts, but this feels different. New.
I pull away from the curb, trying not to look in my rearview mirror. Trying not to see Mom standing in the doorway... alone again. Trying not to think about how every mission could be the one where my luck runs out. Where Sherlock finally pieces it all together. Where I become just another monster for GUIDE to hunt.
Rome is waiting. The beast is waiting. And somewhere between here and there, I have to find a way to be the weapon GUIDE needs without becoming the thing they trained me to destroy.
One more mission. One more kill.
One step closer to either vengeance or execution.
The sensation coils tighter in my chest, a compass needle straining toward an unseen pole. Or it’s my body recognizing a truth my mind can't yet comprehend.
Episode 3
CHAPTER 7
Justice Awaits, Or Does It?
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Astrid Matheison
