The sunset draped itself over the ranch, bathing the land in a golden-orange glow. The light spilled through the study window, casting warm shadows across the room.
Isaac stood silently, the portrait glimmering in his hands as he stared at it with quiet intensity.
Queen Adriana Wiltshire of Arlene.
Her black wavy hair cascaded down her shoulders, small dark eyes glinting with secrets, a delicate nose, and soft rose-pink lips framed by a golden crown. Dangling earrings and a gold necklace completed the regal vision.
She was breathtaking. But what unsettled Isaac wasn't her beauty—it was the eerie familiarity. A pull so strong it twisted his stomach with unease. The eyes. The lips. The little girl from his dream days ago. There was no mistake. No filter of imagination. The resemblance was too precise.
It's her. It has to be her.
His mind reeled.
But how? Why? What does this mean? Why is it happening to me?
"What are you doing?"
Isaac flinched at the sudden voice and turned to see Patricia walking toward him.
"Uh… nothing. It's just… nothing," he stammered.
"Oh really?" she said, stepping closer. "Then what are you doing in my study, holding the portrait of Queen Adriana?"
She stopped just a breath away, her gaze sharp and unwavering.
Isaac swallowed hard under her scrutiny.
"I was just… I thought maybe the portrait might offer another clue. Something to help us understand her history. But I didn't find anything, so… I'll just put it back."
His voice was calm, but his nerves betrayed him.
Patricia raised an eyebrow, leaning in slightly, her eyes locked onto his.
"Isaac… are you hiding something from me?"
"What? No. Of course not. Why would I hide something from you?" he replied, forcing a steady tone.
He met her gaze directly, trying to mask the flicker of panic behind his eyes.
Patricia studied him. He looked composed—like his usual self—but she could hear the thump of his heartbeat, loud and uneven. It betrayed him.
She was ready to press harder, to corner him for answers. But then her eyes caught something—a small lump poking through his hair at the side of his head.
Without hesitation, she reached out and brushed his hair aside.
"What happened to you?" she asked, her voice low.
Isaac winced as her fingers moved through his hair.
Her breath hitched. More bruises marked the back of his head and near his forehead.
"Isaac, what happened to you?" she demanded. "You said nothing happened there! Why is your head covered in bruises?"
She searched through his hair frantically, her voice rising.
"Tell me the truth. What happened in Costa Rica? Tell me now or I swear I'll beat that head until it turns to pulp!"
Isaac saw the fire in her eyes—fierce, protective, and laced with worry. He knew he had to come clean. If he didn't, she'd make good on her threat. His beautiful hooligan wouldn't hesitate to break a limb if she had the strength.
He sighed, rolled up the portrait, and placed it gently on the desk. As he bent to open the drawer, he winced again.
Patricia noticed. Her anger faltered.
He was still in pain.
Her heart squeezed at the sight of him hurting. She was furious that he'd kept it from her—but more than that, she was scared.
She closed her eyes and took a slow, steady breath.
"Sit on the couch. I'll be right back," she said, turning and walking out of the room.
Isaac smiled faintly as he watched her leave. He placed the portrait inside the drawer and moved to the couch, settling into the seat facing the garden window.
.....
Patricia rummaged through the kitchen cabinet, searching for the first aid kit. Her fingers finally brushed against the familiar box, and she pulled it out, extracting bandages and ointments with practiced ease. She placed the kit back and turned to head toward the study.
But as she walked down the passageway, something caught her eye.
Zachariah's bedroom door was slightly ajar.
She paused, curiosity prickling at her spine. Leaning in, she peered through the gap.
Her breath hitched.
Sprawled across his bed were items that didn't belong in a university student's room—let alone her brother's. A syringe. Tiny bottles filled with tablets. An envelope stuffed with cash.
She scanned the room. Zach wasn't there.
Patricia reached out to push the door open wider, needing to confirm what she was seeing. But just then, Zach emerged from the bathroom, wrapped in a bathrobe. The scent of fresh shower gel drifted into the hallway.
Patricia flattened herself against the wall, heart pounding, clutching the bandages and ointments to her chest like a shield.
Then his phone rang.
She listened, frozen.
"Yeah."
"Don't worry, I didn't forget."
"I'll call you when the job's done."
"Yeah, I know."
"I'll be careful."
Patricia's pulse thundered in her ears.
No. No, this can't be happening. I must be wrong. Zach wouldn't… he couldn't. Not him. Not my brother. There has to be another explanation. There has to be.
"Should I follow him?"
Patricia jumped at the whisper.
She turned to find Alisha standing beside her, calm but watchful.
Without a word, Patricia grabbed her hand and led her quickly down the hallway.
Zachariah noticed the door slightly ajar. He stepped out, glanced around the empty passageway, then closed the door and returned to his room.
Meanwhile, Patricia and Alisha slipped into the guest room just a few steps away.
Patricia peered through a narrow crack in the door, watching Zach survey the hallway before disappearing back inside.
She exhaled slowly and turned to face Alisha, who was now seated on the bed, legs crossed.
"How long have you known?" Patricia asked.
"About three days," Alisha replied.
"I saw him talking to some hooded figure near the back entrance. Same guy again earlier today at school. I was about to confront them, but some moron interrupted me. By the time I dealt with him, they were gone."
She swung her legs back and forth, frustration simmering beneath her casual posture.
Patricia ran a hand through her hair, pacing.
"This is unbelievable. I don't want to believe it."
"Neither do I, Sis. But we have to face it. If Zach's involved in what we think he is, we need to know—and we need to stop him. We can't lose him too."
Patricia stopped pacing, her hands planted firmly on her hips.
"Okay. Follow him. But keep it discreet. He can't know we're onto him. And if you find out anything—anything—you tell me immediately. If it's what we think… I swear I'll beat the living daylights out of him. I swear it."
She snatched up the bandages and ointments and stormed out of the room, fury in her stride.
Alisha stood slowly, watching her go.
"You won't be the only one, Sis," she murmured. "You won't be the only one."
.......
Isaac sat quietly, eyes scanning the lab report in his hands.
"Whatever is causing this is extremely lethal. We've tried tracing the toxin, but it's untraceable. We're beginning to suspect that whatever's behind this may not be of this world. Forgive us, Captain, for the assumption—but it's the only logical explanation we have at the moment. Until we find concrete evidence, our theories will lean in that direction. We'll contact you once we uncover more…"
Isaac's brow furrowed. Not of this world? The words echoed in his mind like a warning bell. He'd seen strange things before—but this? This was different. And dangerous.
Bam!
The door slammed shut, jolting him from his thoughts.
He turned sharply—and there she was.
Patricia stormed toward him, her face contorted with fury.
'Oh boy… what now?' Isaac sighed inwardly.
She stopped in front of him, hands clenched at her sides.
"You know what I hate more than anything in this world?" she snapped. "Secrets. I hate secrets. Especially when they involve me, my family, or my friends. I hate them!"
She dropped onto the couch beside him, her voice cracking slightly.
"I truly fucking hate this."
Isaac remained silent. He knew she was right. He was keeping secrets as well. And he was squarely in the blast zone of her wrath. He'd wanted to tell her for weeks—but something always got in the way. Maybe today was the day. Because if she found out from someone else… he'd never hear the end of it.
Better to face the storm head-on than let it catch me off guard.
He stood slowly, walked over to the coffee table, and picked up the bandages and ointments Patricia had tossed down in her fury.
"I believe… these are meant for me," he said softly.
Patricia looked up, her eyes still blazing—but when she saw the familiar smirk tug at his lips, her heart softened. She smiled back, just a little.
The waters calmed. For now.
.....
A few minutes later…
Isaac sat cross-legged on a cushion on the floor, while Patricia gently massaged oil into his scalp.
"Mmm… this feels amazing," he murmured. "I can't even feel the pain anymore. My beautiful Sweeches has magic hands."
He reached up, kissed her lower arm.
Patricia chuckled. "You're trying to sweet-talk your way out of trouble, aren't you?"
She wiped her hands and picked up the bandages.
"I haven't forgotten that you owe me an explanation. So don't think your charm is going to save you."
She began wrapping the bandage around his head with practiced care.
Isaac sighed, leaning into her touch.
"I know. I just… wanted to enjoy this moment. Without delving into sad stories. I missed you, Sweeches. More than you know."
He rested his head on her lap, gazing up at her.
"Feeling your touch. Kissing you. Holding you close. Sweet-talking my way into tasting those lips again…"
He brushed his thumb gently across her mouth.
"Those sweet, cherry lips."
Patricia blushed, her gaze locked onto his. His blue eyes shimmered like a tide pulling her in. Her eyes dropped to his lips. She missed them too—the warmth, the softness, the way they made her forget everything else.
Isaac leaned in, lifting his head to kiss her.
But—
Patricia shoved his forehead lightly, making him jerk back.
"Nice try, buster. But I'm not falling for your charms this time. You owe me an explanation—and I want it now."
She folded her arms across her chest, lips pursed.
Isaac chuckled. "Ah, Sweeches. You really are something else."
He turned to face her fully, eyes twinkling.
"And that's what I adore about you."
He winked.
Patricia snorted and looked away, but the corner of her mouth twitched with a smile.
"Anyway… since you're insisting," Isaac said, his voice low. "Yes, the trip to Costa Rica took a turn we never expected. Instead of answers, it led us deeper into the mist of mystery."
Patricia's eyes narrowed slightly. "Is Montenegra involved?"
Isaac nodded. "I believe so. The mess we encountered there… it wasn't ordinary. And we're still trying to figure out what it is."
Patricia slowly shook her head, absorbing the weight of his words.
"So what happened to you?" she asked gently.
Isaac exhaled. "We ran into trouble. But don't worry—I'm okay. It could've been worse. I guess destiny wasn't ready to take me away from you just yet. That's why I'm here. Beside you. Talking to you. And staring at your beautiful angry face."
He chuckled softly.
Patricia laughed. "You're impossible."
"And you love me for it," Isaac said, taking her hands in his.
His expression darkened slightly. "But I regret coming back late. If I'd arrived earlier, I would've gladly cut off Blondie's hands. Who the hell does he think he is? Where did Saccoth even find him?"
Patricia chuckled again. "He's a jerk from hell, believe me. And I'll tell you all about it. But right now…"
She leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a whisper.
"I need to feel that my handsome knight is truly alive. That destiny didn't take him away from me. That he's here… waiting for me to kiss him."
Isaac's eyes softened. "Well… if it's confirmation you want, then confirmation you'll get."
Patricia smiled, cupping his face in her hands. She leaned in and pressed her lips gently to his. Isaac kneeled, wrapping his arms around her waist, returning the kiss with slow, tender passion. The moment deepened into passionate kisses, their mouths exploring each other like they were rediscovering life itself.
But—
Riiing!!
Riiiing!!
Isaac's phone shattered the moment.
"Bloody hell," he muttered, pulling back as Patricia turned away, cheeks flushed, lips slightly swollen.
He glanced at the caller ID and sighed.
"Yes, Roy. What is it?" he asked, voice clipped.
"Captain, you need to come to the lab. It's about the box. You need to see it for yourself," Roy's voice crackled through the line.
Isaac turned toward Patricia, who was now watching him with quiet concern.
"I'm on my way," he said, ending the call.
"What's wrong? Is everything okay?" she asked.
"Everything's fine, Sweeches. I just need to confirm something. I'll be gone for a little while."
"But you just got back," Patricia said, her voice rising. "Can't it wait until tomorrow?"
"I'm afraid it can't," Isaac replied, standing. "Don't worry. I'll be back by morning—to see you practice, my beautiful derby princess."
He kissed her forehead.
"Okay… but please be careful," Patricia said softly.
"I will. I love you."
"I love you too."
Isaac hugged her briefly, then turned toward the door.
But as he stepped into the hallway, a chill ran down his spine.
Something's been uncovered. I can feel it. And whatever it is… it's not good.