Six Years

DISCLAIMER: This story contains strong language, psychological tension, and scenes of violence. It explores morally complex characters and emotionally charged situations. Reader discretion is advised.

STORY:

“We should’ve taken the side road,” Lilith said as she pulled off her gloves.

“We made it,” Kael replied, locking the door behind them. “That’s what matters.”

Alexander didn’t say anything. He hung his coat, placed his weapons on the counter, and took in the familiar quiet of the safehouse.

“I’m beat,” Lilith yawned. “See you tomorrow.” She kissed Alexander on the cheek and bumped her fist onto Kael before disappearing into the hallway.

“Good night, sweetheart,” Alexander watched her enter her room, then turned to Kael. “You’re thinking about tomorrow.”

“Aren’t you?” Kael moved to the kitchen area, filling a kettle with water.

“No.” Alexander watched the steam rise from the kettle. The smell of gunpowder still clung to his clothes. “The intel is solid. We get in, we get out.”

The kettle whistled, and Kael poured the hot water into a mug, the herbal scent filling the small kitchen. “It’s been six years.”

“And tomorrow it ends.” Alexander’s face hardened. “I will make him pay.”

“I should get some rest,” Kael said after a moment, setting his empty mug in the sink. “I’ll go over the building blueprint one more time before turning in.” He placed his hand briefly on Alexander’s shoulder. “Goodnight, brother.”

“Goodnight.”

As Kael headed towards his room, Amelia emerged from the master bedroom, her silhouette backlit by the soft glow of the lamp behind her. Her eyes brightened when she spotted Alexander. She stepped aside to let Kael pass.

“Welcome home,” she whispered, stepping forward to embrace Alexander. She wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in his chest for a moment before looking up. “I’m glad you’re back safe. Lilith and Kael, too.”

“Look at those two,” Amelia quietly laughed, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “Remember when Kael couldn’t load a magazine without dropping half the bullets? And now he’s planning operations.” She shook her head, still holding onto Alexander. “And Lilith… she’s become such a capable young woman. So confident. So sure.”

“They’re strong,” Alexander said softly, brushing a strand of hair from Amelia’s face. His calloused fingers lingered on her cheek. “They had to be.”

“You should rest,” she said, though she made no move to step away. “Big day tomorrow.”

“I know.” Alexander’s gaze drifted toward the hallway where Kael and Lilith had disappeared. The silence of the safehouse pressed in around him, broken only by the occasional creak of the old building settling.

***

Alexander didn’t sleep much that night. When morning came, the operation unfolded as planned. The team moved like ghosts through the city, tracking their target to an abandoned industrial district.

Now, twelve hours later, Alexander paced across the concrete floor of the warehouse. Water dripped somewhere in the darkness beyond the single overhead light. The assassin sat bound to a metal chair, and blood trickled from his split lip; his face was swollen from Kael’s initial persuasion.

“Let’s try again,” Alexander said, his voice unnervingly calm. “Who hired you?”

The assassin spat blood onto the floor. “I already told you, I don’t—”

Alexander’s fist connected with the man’s jaw before he could finish. The chair rocked backward but didn’t topple.

“Six years,” Alexander said, taking out his knife. “Six years since the hit on my family. I confess that I’m not a patient man today.”

Kael stood by the door, arms crossed, eyes never leaving the prisoner. Lilith leaned against a stack of crates, her knife dancing between her fingers—a nervous habit she’d developed over the years. Behind her, Amelia waited silently, her face a careful mask.

The assassin spat blood onto the asphalt. “You’re dead anyway. All of you.”

Alexander brought the blade to the assassin’s face, tracing it lightly across his cheek. Blood welled up in the knife’s wake.

“I have all night,” Alexander whispered, leaning in close.

The assassin’s eyes widened slightly, but his defiance remained. “You think you scare me? I’ve endured worse.”

Alexander pressed the tip of the blade under the man’s fingernail. “Last chance.”

The scream echoed through the warehouse as Alexander pushed deeper. The team didn’t flinch. They’d seen worse, done worse.

“Edward Curlen!” the assassin gasped when Alexander finally released the pressure. “Edward Curlen hired me. He’s the one who ordered the hit six years ago.”

Alexander paused, knife hovering. He glanced at Kael and Amelia, who nodded almost imperceptibly. They recognized the name – the Attorney General — Amelia’s previous employer.

“What do you want me to do with him?” Alexander asked softly.

Before Amelia could answer, Lilith pushed herself away from the crates. “No mercy,” she said, her voice flat and cold. “He took everything from us.”

Alexander nodded and waited for Amelia.

Amelia’s eyes locked with Alexander’s. “He doesn’t deserve mercy,” she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper.

Alexander nodded. “Okay. No mercy.”

Kael stepped forward from his position by the door. “I agree,” he said quietly.

The assassin began to struggle against his restraints, desperation finally breaking through his professional facade. “Wait—I told you what you wanted—”

Alexander moved with practiced efficiency. The knife slid across the killer’s throat in one smooth motion. Blood sprayed across the concrete as the man’s eyes widened in shock. His body convulsed, the chair rattling against the floor as he fought against death’s inevitable grasp. Then, silence.

“It’s done,” Alexander said, wiping his blade clean on the dead man’s shirt.

Lilith stepped forward, her face betraying no emotion as she stared at the body. “One down.”

Kael was already moving, gathering their equipment. “We need to clean this up and move. Now.”

Alexander nodded.

The team worked silently, erasing all evidence of their presence. They loaded the body into the trunk of their nondescript sedan and drove to the outskirts of the city. In an abandoned quarry, they burned what remained of the assassin who had taken so much from them.

***

Back at the safe house, exhaustion hung heavily in the air. Even after his shower, Alexander’s mind refused to shut down. He spread the blueprints across the kitchen table, tracing his finger along the lines that represented the Attorney General’s office building.

“So we know Curlen will be there tomorrow night,” Kael said, voice low as he leaned over the table. “But security will be tight for the fundraiser.”

Alexander nodded. “We will only get one shot.”

Lilith appeared in the doorway, her hair still damp from the shower. She’d scrubbed away all traces of the day’s violence, but her eyes remained hard, calculating. She moved to the table, studying the blueprints.

“What about here?” she asked, tapping a section on the east side of the building. “Service entrance. Leads directly to the maintenance corridors.” Her finger traced a path through the building. “We could bypass most of the security checkpoints and come up behind his office.”

Alexander studied the route, mentally calculating timings and potential obstacles. It might work.

Amelia entered the kitchen silently. She moved beside Alexander, her shoulder brushing against his as she examined the blueprints.

She leaned closer, her lips close to his ear. “She’s got your blood,” she whispered, her eyes fixed on Lilith as she continued to trace potential entry points on the blueprint.

Alexander felt a faint smile tug at his lips as he watched Lilith’s confident movements, the calculated precision in her eyes that mirrored his own. “Yes,” he replied softly, pride warming his chest.

Kael glanced up. “So you think Lilith’s plan could work?” he asked.

Alexander cleared his throat, refocusing on the blueprints. “It’s solid. We’ll need to time the shift changes precisely, but it gives us our best chance of reaching Curlen undetected.”

Lilith’s eyes brightened at the approval. “We’ll need to disable the security cameras in this section,” she continued, pointing to another area of the blueprint. “I can handle that remotely while you and Uncle Kael make your way to Curlen’s office.”

Alexander nodded, tracing the escape route with his finger. “We’ll need to be out within seven minutes of making contact with Curlen. Any longer and we risk being trapped.”

For the next hour, they refined each step of the plan, taking into account contingencies, escape routes, and emergency protocols. Alexander felt the familiar calm settling over him—the clarity that always came when a mission took final shape.

“What about his security detail?” Kael asked, rubbing his tired eyes.

“Two men,” Lilith answered, sliding a folder across the table. “Ex-military. Armed at all times. But they’ll be stationed outside during his private meetings.”

Alexander studied the photographs. “I can handle them.”

Amelia’s hand found his under the table, squeezing gently.

Lilith stifled a yawn as she finalized the timing of the security system override.

“We should all get some rest,” Alexander said, rolling up the blueprints. “Tomorrow will be long.”

Kael nodded, gathering his notes. “Six years,” he muttered. “Hard to believe it ends tomorrow.”

“Justice,” Lilith said simply, hugging her father before heading to her room.

Alexander watched as his daughter and his brother disappeared down the hallway, and followed Amelia to their room. The door clicked shut behind him. Darkness cloaked most of the room, save for the amber glow from the bedside lamp that cast Amelia in gold.

His breath caught as she pressed her palm against his chest.

“You’re trembling,” she whispered.

Was he? Alexander looked down at his hands. They were indeed shaking, fine tremors running through his calloused fingers. Strange. They had been steady when he’d cut the assassin’s throat.

Amelia’s fingers found the buttons of his shirt, undoing them one by one. Her knuckles brushed against his skin, sending electricity down his spine. The fabric slid from his shoulders, pooling at his feet.

The air in the room felt cool against his bare skin. His muscles—coiled tight with the day’s violence and tomorrow’s anticipation—ached for release.

Amelia guided him backward until his legs met the edge of the bed. She gently pushed him, and he sank down onto the mattress.

Her lips found his neck, and Alexander closed his eyes. The scent of her—lily’s soap and something uniquely her—filled his lungs as he breathed her in.

“Let go,” she whispered against his ear, her breath hot on his skin. “Just for tonight.”

His throat tightened. How could he let go? But her mouth was on his abdomen now, her fingers opening his slack.

“I love you,” she breathed against him.

“I need you,” he whispered, the words barely audible even in the quiet room.

“I’m here,” she murmured, moving up against his throat.

The words penetrated deeper than any blade could reach. Alexander’s breath hitched, caught on something sharp and painful in his chest.

A small groan escaped his throat as her weight settled over him, her thighs pressing against his hips.

When she guided him inside her, a shudder rippled through his core. His breath caught, suspended between one heartbeat and the next. She started moving above him.

“Amelia,” he breathed, her name a prayer on his lips.

The mattress creaked beneath him, and Alexander surrendered to the sensation.

His breath came in shallow gasps as the rhythm built slowly.

The scent of her flooded his senses—sweat and lily and something primal that made his throat tighten. He inhaled deeply, filling his lungs with her. His chest expanded, heart hammering against his ribs like it might break free.

An ache spread through his limbs, not pain but something deeper—a need that radiated outward from his core. It gathered in his muscles, coiling tighter with each roll of her hips. His jaw clenched, tendons standing out in his neck as he fought to maintain control.

Amelia breathed into his ear. “Let go,” she repeated. “I’ve got you.”

“Amelia,” he gasped, his voice breaking on her name.

A desperate ache seared through his nerves. One hand clutched at the sheets, knuckles white with tension, while the other dug into her hips.

He gasped as she changed the angle, taking him deeper.

Sweat beaded across his chest, trickling down his sides to dampen the sheets beneath him. The air felt thick, charged with electricity that danced across his skin. His muscles tensed, abdomen tightening as pressure built.

The rhythm between them changed. Faster now. More desperate. His throat tightened around a groan he wouldn’t allow himself to release—not with Lilith and Kael sleeping down the hall.

“Please,” she breathed, her voice breaking on the single syllable.

The pressure at the base of his spine built to an unbearable crescendo. His muscles trembled, straining against the sweet torture of holding back.

“That’s it,” Amelia urged against his neck. “That’s it, love. Feel me.”

The dam broke. Pleasure crashed through him in violent waves, each pulse tearing a quiet groan from his throat. His fingers dug into the sheets as the sensation overwhelmed him, obliterated him. For one blessed moment, everything disappeared—tomorrow, yesterday, the tragedy.

As the waves receded, something else rose in their place. A tightness in his throat, a burning behind his eyelids.

“I love you,” Alexander whispered into the darkness.

***

Morning came, and Alexander woke to the sound of rain tapping against the window. The bed beside him was empty.

The safehouse was already alive with activity when he entered the kitchen. Kael sat at the table cleaning his gun, methodical clicks punctuating the silence. Lilith hunched over her laptop, fingers flying across the keyboard.

Alexander felt a strange calm settle over him. He caught Amelia’s eye. She nodded, her face solemn.

“It’s time,” he said simply.

The operation went exactly as planned. Lilith disabled the security systems remotely, guiding them through their earpieces as Alexander and Kael infiltrated the building.

Two hours later, Attorney General Edward Curlen sat now bound to a metal chair in the center of the same warehouse where they’d dispatched his assassin.

Curlen’s suit was stained with blood, his crisp white shirt collar torn open at the neck. But despite his predicament, Curlen’s face showed no fear. Only contempt.

“I’m not sure what you hope to accomplish here,” Curlen said, his voice steady and rich with the same confident tone he used during press conferences. “Do you have any idea who I am? The entire government will hunt you down.”

Alexander circled him slowly, the warehouse’s concrete floor echoing under his steps. He kept his breathing controlled, his face a mask of cold calculation.

“Six years ago, you ordered a hit on my family,” Alexander continued, his voice unnervingly calm. “On my wife.”

Curlen raised an eyebrow. “Wife? I’m afraid you’ve lost me. Perhaps you have the wrong person.”

Alexander’s hand shot out, gripping Curlen’s throat. The man’s pulse fluttered beneath his fingers—rabbit-quick—but his expression remained composed when Alexander released him.

“You ordered her kill because she discovered your perverted hobby,” Alexander continued. “She was going to expose you.”

“Ah.” Curlen cleared his throat. Recognition dawned in his eyes, his mask of composure slipping for the first time. “So that’s what this is about.” He gave a small, cold laugh. “Amelia Black. The self-righteous prosecutor who couldn’t mind her own business.”

Behind Curlen, Alexander could see Amelia step forward from the shadows, her face a study in quiet rage. She moved with deliberate steps until she stood directly behind Edward’s chair, her eyes never leaving the back of his head.

“You know,” Curlen continued, his voice taking on a lecturer’s tone, “those women were going to die anyway. Traffickers have quotas. I simply… appreciated their company before the inevitable.”

Lilith made a slight sound of disgust from her position by the crates. Kael’s jaw tightened visibly.

Amelia leaned forward. “He needs to disappear as painfully as he killed his victims,” she murmured, her voice barely audible.

Alexander met her eyes. “We will make it slow,” he promised her as he unsheathed his knife, The blade flashed under the harsh warehouse light. He stepped forward, each movement deliberate and unhurried.

“You know what your mistake was?” Alexander asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “It wasn’t the trafficking. It wasn’t even ordering the hit.” He leaned in close, so only Curlen could hear. “It was leaving me alive to hunt you.”

Fear finally flickered across Curlen’s face. He knew, in that instant, that his power, his connections, his wealth, none of it would save him.

“Wait—” Curlen began, but Alexander had waited six years already.

In one fluid motion, Alexander plunged the knife into Curlen’s stomach, twisting the blade upward with practiced precision. Curlen’s eyes widened, a choked gasp escaping his lips as blood bubbled between them. Alexander twisted the knife once more and watched the life draining slowly from the man’s eyes.

Curlen’s body sagged forward, blood pooling beneath the chair in a dark, expanding puddle. Alexander withdrew his blade and stepped back, his breath coming in controlled, even pulls. The metallic tang of blood filled his nostrils as he turned away from the corpse.

He looked slightly to the side, where Amelia stood, smiling, in front of Lilith, and said softly: “It’s finished, love.”

Lilith smiled at him, and Kael, still looking at the body, replied: “Yeah. Let’s hope Amelia can finally rest.”

The air around Amelia seemed to waver, like heat rising from summer pavement. Her form flickered once, twice, and then, she was gone as if she’d never been there at all.

Alexander stared at the empty space where she had stood. His chest tightened, a familiar ache that never quite went away. Six years. Six years of seeing her, hearing her, feeling her—knowing all along she wasn’t really there.

Lilith stepped forward, hugging him. “Dad?” Her voice was gentle, concerned.

Alexander blinked, then kissed her forehead. “Sorry, sweetheart,” he said. “Just tired.”