It's been two weeks since the attack, and exactly two weeks, ten hours, and five minutes since I last laid eyes on her. "Simi", I whispered her name, a sound that felt both distant and achingly familiar on my lips. I remembered her eyes, those alluring honey-brown eyes, shadowed with worry, a streak of blood smeared across her face as she knelt beside me, desperately trying to stop the bleeding behind that cold, filthy dumpster.
She was so…
Beautiful.
Soft.
Naive and utterly out of place in a world as dark and violent as mine. I know I shouldn't be thinking about her. I shouldn't want to. But I can't help it... it's maddening. It's like trying to unfeel something you never should have felt in the first place.
"What the hell is wrong with me?", I muttered, pushing myself out of my chair and turning away from the desk, my gaze locking on the window as if it held the answers I couldn't find in my own head. The door creaked open behind me, slow and deliberate. I didn't bother turning because I already knew who it was. Only one person dares to enter my study without knocking. The rest either buzz in through the telecom or go through Enzo. As they should.
"Any updates?", I asked, my voice low and even, eyes still fixed on the city lights bleeding through the window.
"He's ready to talk", came the response behind me.
"Then what are you waiting for? Get the information out of him, unless there's a problem", I said, still not turning.
"Well… he insists on speaking to one person only. Leonardo Bellini."
I exhaled slowly, a low hum escaping me. "Hmm".
A brief silence.
"Ehm…"
I turned slightly, just enough to catch Enzo's expression. "What is it?".
I knew that look. Enzo wasn't just delivering a message, he was fishing for something. He wanted to ask a question he hadn't yet earned the right to voice.
"So… I've been thinking", he began, eyes flicking to mine, waiting for a green light to continue.
"About what?", I raised an eyebrow, watching him approach my desk. I turned to face him fully, bracing for whatever half-baked theory he was about to throw at me.
"You've been off since the attack. Distant. Unfocused," he said. "And I was wondering if maybe, just maybe something else is bothering you."
I gave a quick shrug. "We were attacked. That's enough of a reason, isn't it?"
He nodded, slowly. Too slowly. I could see the doubt still lingering in his eyes.
"Right… well," he hesitated, then added with a forced casualness, "Simi, yeah?"
My head snapped toward him so fast it caught us both off guard. His eyes widened slightly, surprised by how sharply I reacted.
"What about her?" I asked, trying to smooth the edge from my voice.
"I don't know. Don't you think you should find her?"
"For what?" I cut in, sharper than intended.
"To thank her," he said simply. "She saved your life."
I scoffed, looking away. "I don't see the point. I can't stand people like her. People who can't mind their own damn business. What if I had been someone dangerous? What if those men had turned on her because of me?".
My voice rose before I could stop it. "She's reckless. Irrational." I paused, then added in a quieter, almost broken whisper, "Too innocent".
Silence followed heavy and uncomfortable.
But the truth? I wasn't angry at her.
I was angry at how much I'd thought about her since.
Every day. Every damn night.
"Alright then", Enzo said after a moment, his tone clipped. "I just figured her name sounded familiar and I was thinking of helping you find her. But since you can't stand her, there's no need for that I guess".
"Yeah", I muttered. "No need".
He nodded once and turned toward the door. "I'll get ready. Meet you in the basement".
"I'll be out in ten," I said quietly.
He gave me a thumbs-up without turning and walked out, letting the door slam shut behind him.
And just like that, I was alone again, surrounded by silence, with her name still echoing in my mind.
Simi. Simi. Simi.
I murmured it under my breath, over and over again. The name felt familiar. Hauntingly so. But I couldn't place it. I'd heard it before, seen it, maybe but where?
"I know that name," I muttered, narrowing my eyes. "The question is, where?"
The thought gnawed at me, then suddenly it clicked.
I shot up from my chair, heart pounding, and crossed the room to the tall drawer where I kept sensitive records. My fingers moved quickly, flipping through neatly arranged folders until I found it, the one with the thick black cover.
I pulled it out carefully, brought it to my desk, and began scanning the pages. Fast. Focused.
And there tucked toward the back was her.
My eyes locked on the image, and a slow, grim smile curved my lips.
"Gotcha."