Aiden slipped Simon quietly into the private quarters. The air was heavy, still, like even the walls knew this wasn't just a visit—it was closure.
Simon waited in silence.
Then, the door creaked open. Mr. Hugh stepped in, wiping rain off his coat. He paused—eyes narrowing the moment he spotted the boy sitting in his chair.
"Who the hell are you?" he demanded, his voice cold and sharp. "How did you get in here?"
He turned, already reaching to call for security, but Simon spoke up—calm, steady.
"I'm surprised you don't recognize me,"
Simon said, rising to his feet. A soft scoff followed. "Of course you wouldn't. I was just a kid then."
Mr. Hugh turned back slowly, eyes narrowing again. "Simon?"
"Wow... So you do remember," Simon said, his tone somewhere between bitter and amused.
Mr. Hugh's jaw tightened. "What do you want? Money?"
Simon let out a soft laugh—empty, tired. "You really haven't changed." Then his voice dropped, quieter now. "Me and Mom… we're leaving. For good this time. I came to see you one last time."
"And why the hell would I care? I told you and that woman to stay out of my life."
Simon smiled sadly. "Yeah… I know. But still, I came." His voice cracked—just a little. "I've spent years wondering... if you hadn't thrown us out that night, would things have been different? Would we have had something close to normal? A home?"
He took a shaky breath. "I just wanted a dad, you know? Someone to teach me things… to say he's proud of me." He looked away. "Mom did her best to make me forget you. But she couldn't erase that ache."
Then his voice dropped again, more raw now. "I used to watch other kids with their dads and wonder what I did wrong. I told myself, 'He's not dead. He just doesn't want me.'"
His eyes brimmed with tears. "And Hannah… That's your daughter, right? I would've been a good big brother to her. I'd have protected her, made her laugh… spoiled her even when you wouldn't. I bet Mom and your wife could've gotten along. She's a good woman, even when you weren't a good man."
Simon stepped forward, pain now replacing all restraint. "But you threw us away like trash. We suffered while you lived in gold. We waited for a call that never came. We cried in silence while you smiled in your perfect little world. And all this time, I kept hoping…"
He wiped his face roughly. "That's all I came to say. We're leaving. And you might never see us again."
He turned to go—but then, unexpectedly, Mr. Hugh grabbed his wrist.
Simon froze.
"...Wait."
"I'm not going to apologize," Mr. Hugh said, his voice low but firm. "Not after everything. You deserve more than just words. You deserve better than what I ever gave."
Simon's face tightened. He yanked his arm free, chest heaving with emotion, and turned away without a word. But as he made for the door, he heard it—quiet, but certain.
"Simon."
He stopped.
"Promise me… you'll come back."
Simon stayed silent, hand gripping the door handle.
Mr. Hugh took a step forward. "If you do… I swear, I'll welcome you back as my son. I'll make it right. You walked in here tonight, knowing what we were… and still looked me in the eye. That takes guts. I respect that."
He exhaled slowly. "When you come back, let's share a drink. Just the two of us. No lies. No past. Just father and son. Talk all night, like we should've done a long time ago… How does that sound?"
Simon turned, slowly. His expression was unreadable… until a faint, tired smile crept onto his face. He extended a hand.
Mr. Hugh, stunned at first, blinked—then smiled, genuinely—for the first time in a long time. He took Simon's hand and shook it firmly, like it meant something.
Present Day
Jason was still processing everything—his mind racing.
"…Simon… was Hugh's son?"
Aiden nodded solemnly.
"You probably don't remember, Jason… but we've spoken before. Briefly. Back when Simon and I used to talk a lot, he always mentioned you."
Jason raised a brow. "Oh really?"
Aiden smirked. "He said you were arrogant. Cold. Impossible to work with."
Jason scoffed. "Sounds about right."
"…But he also said you had heart. That beneath all that attitude, you were loyal. Brave. Worth protecting."
Flashback:
Simon sat cross-legged on the floor, phone pressed to his ear.
Jason, younger and shorter-tempered, barged in. "Who are you talking to now?"
Simon covered the speaker. "It's Aiden. Jay-jay, be nice."
Jason frowned. "What, that old fart?"
Aiden's voice crackled from the speaker. "I heard that, punk."
Simon held back a laugh as he handed over the phone. "He wants to talk to you."
Jason snatched it. "What do you want?"
"Relax, kid," Aiden said, amused. "Simon talks a lot about you. Just wanted to see if you're really as legendary as he claims."
"You mean handsome, brilliant, and charming?" Jason grinned. "Yeah, I am."
Aiden laughed. "Funny. He didn't mention any of that."
Jason glared at Simon, who suddenly found the ceiling interesting.
Aiden's voice turned a little more serious. "Listen… stay out of trouble, alright? Don't make things harder for Simon. He's looking out for you."
Jason tensed. "…Who asked you?"
"Doesn't matter. Just… don't let him down. He believes in you."
"Whatever. I'm done here." Jason ended the call and tossed the phone at Simon. "Next time, don't call weirdos."
As he walked off, Simon called after him, "Hey! You're just mad he roasted you!"
Jason stuck out his tongue without looking back. Simon sighed, shaking his head, then redialed.
"Sorry about that," he said to Aiden. "He gets like that sometimes."
Aiden chuckled. "Nah, kid's got fire. He's alright."
Simon paused, his tone growing soft. "Hey… if anything ever happens to me—on a mission or whatever—could you look after him? He has no one else."
There was silence on the other end. Then Aiden answered, with quiet resolve:
"I will. You have my word."
Simon smiled faintly, as if that eased a weight he'd been carrying.
"…Thank you."
Back in the present—
Jason's head was lowered, shadow covering his eyes. "…Simon said that?"
Aiden nodded, then took a deep breath. "Tell me something, Jason…"
Jason stiffened instantly, eyes narrowing. "I know what he's about to ask… The question I've been running from. The one that haunts me every night...How did Simon die."
"How did Simon die?"
They both said it—together.
Aiden's voice was gentle, yet firm as he placed a hand on Jason's shoulder. "Please. I deserve to know, don't I?"
Jason's world froze.
The cell around him faded. All he could hear was that question, echoing again and again like a curse. How did Simon die?
No one was supposed to ask me that again…
Back then, Raven kept the truth buried. She didn't tell the other S-Ranks. Didn't tell the lower ranks either. She did it to protect me. Because if they'd found out—if the truth got out—I wouldn't be sitting here right now.
The S-Ranks would've ended me. Or worse.
Only five of us knew: Raven, Amelia, Ava, Scott… and me.
Scott's gone now. That leaves four.
Jason clenched his fists. "I was terrified. If they found out… about what really happened, about my part in it… I didn't know what they'd do to me."
Simon wasn't just some soldier.
He was the best.
A legend.
And after his death… the rumors started.
In the cafeteria, Jason would sit alone, listening in silence as the others whispered:
"Did you hear? The legendary Simon's dead."
"Legendary? Please."
"I heard he was the top assassin."
"Yeah? If he was the best, how'd he die then? Probably choked in fear."
"They didn't even say how he died. Must've gone out like a coward."
Jason's jaw tightened at the memory. They didn't know. They didn't see.
He wanted to scream. To stand up and shout, "That's a lie! He didn't die a coward! He died saving me! He gave his life to protect mine!"
But he didn't.
He couldn't.
He was scared—ashamed.
And then… Raven refused to perform the passing funeral.
He'd begged her. Pleaded.
But she said nothing. Gave him no answer.
From that moment, something broke in Jason.
He lost all the respect he had for her.
He buried the pain and focused on one thing—becoming the best.
He trained. Fought. Rose in rank.
And soon enough… people stopped talking about Simon.
Stopped remembering him.
Jason exhaled shakily. "And a part of me… was relieved. Because the more they forgot about him… the less chance they'd ever ask me that question."
He looked up at Aiden now, eyes glassy, jaw trembling.
"…But now, here you are. Asking me again."
His voice cracked.
"How did Simon die?"
Jason lowered his gaze, unable to meet Aiden's eyes. His voice came out low, heavy.
"He died… trying to save me."
Aiden tensed.
"They were sent on a mission. I wasn't supposed to be there—Simon warned me, told me to stay behind. But I was stubborn, I followed them anyway... And when everything fell apart, the enemy spotted me. If I hadn't—"
CRACK.
Aiden's fist crashed into Jason's jaw, sending him hard to the floor.
But it didn't stop there.
Aiden stormed toward him, grabbed him by the collar, and yanked him up with trembling hands. His face was twisted in rage and grief, tears brimming in his eyes.
"I told you... I told you to never cause trouble for Simon! I told you, damn it!"
His voice cracked mid-shout. His grip loosened as his hands fell to his sides. His shoulders trembled.
"I'm glad…" Aiden muttered, voice raw.
"I'm glad he didn't die wasting his life. He died protecting someone he cared about. That's... just like him."
Jason dropped to his knees, eyes locked to the floor, fists clenched against them.
"You were like a father to him…"he said, voice steady despite the single tear that traced his cheek.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry for what happened. If I could go back... I'd stop myself from ever stepping into that car. I'd stop myself from dragging him into that death. I never meant for it to end that way."
Aiden stood in silence, staring down at him. His breath heavy. His pain deeper.
Then finally, he turned.
"It's done." His voice was low. Calm.
"Mr. Hugh continues the investigation tomorrow. Be ready."
He walked out, leaving Jason alone in the silence of everything he'd carried.
The next morning came too quickly.
Daphne tightened the straps of her gear, her jaw set, her movements sharp and deliberate. Malia was already at the door, rolling her shoulders like this was just another reckless adventure.
They were halfway out when Malia suddenly raised a hand.
"Wait."
Daphne turned, irritated. "What now? Did you forget something?"
Malia's lips curled into a slow, dangerous grin. "Yeah. A name."
Daphne frowned. "A name?"
"For the mission," Malia said. "Could be our last. Feels wrong not to name it."
Daphne exhaled, rubbing her temple. "We don't have time for this."
"Humor me," Malia said. "I'm calling it Operation Save Jason. Catchy, right?"
Daphne stared at her, unimpressed. "You do realize we're saving Brandon too."
Malia tapped her chin, looking skyward. "Oh. Right. Him."
Daphne shook her head, a small smile breaking through despite herself. "Come on. Let's move. And trust me—this won't be our last operation. Not even close."
Malia shrugged as they stepped out. "At this point, I've got nothing left to lose."
They slipped into position outside Mr. Hugh's estate, hiding near the service road, waiting for a delivery truck to grant them entry.
Minutes stretched into hours.
Daphne paced, fists clenched. "This is taking too long. We're wasting time. What if—"
"Stop," Malia cut in sharply. "Focus. Don't let your head betray you."
As if summoned by fate, the low rumble of an engine broke the silence. A delivery truck appeared at the gate.
Malia raised two fingers. Now. They stepped into the road, forcing the truck to screech to a halt. Daphne moved to the driver's side, trying—and failing—to sound intimidating.
"Get out of the truck or I'll—" she hesitated, scrambling for something threatening. "—tear you apart."
The driver stared at her, confused.
"Eskizé mwen, madmwazèl, ès ou bizwen an bagay?"
Daphne blinked. "Oh crap."
She signaled Malia.
Malia rounded the truck, her posture changing instantly—relaxed, confident, dangerous. Her voice dropped into a smooth, deceptive purr as she distracted the second worker.
"Hé, mesyé, zot ka alé koté? Mwen sèten zot pa an gran préssé pou sa mwen kay fè zot la. Sa zot di nou fè an ti palé?"
"Bon, sa té kay malpoliti pou refizé an madanm."
The worker turned red "Bon, sa té kay malpoliti pou refizé an madanm."
Seconds later, a rope flashed from her and soon after two bodies hit the ground, unconscious. They dragged the men into nearby cover, tied them up, and stripped them of their uniforms.
Daphne leaned against a wall, panting. "Remind me never to get on your bad side."
Malia chuckled. "Relax."
She eyed Daphne, smirking. "That uniform actually suits you."
Daphne flushed. "Let's get going." They climbed into the truck and drove straight into the Hugh estate. At the security checkpoint, guards raised their hands.
Malia leaned out the window. "Problem?"
One guard scoffed. "Since when do women run deliveries?"
Malia's smile vanished. "Careful. That's harassment."
"What's in the truck?" the guard asked.
Malia froze.
They hadn't checked.
Daphne leaned closer and whispered, "Play it cool."
Malia nodded. "Why? I've got nothing to hide. Check the back if you want."
The guard motioned to another man, then turned back. "ID."
"I… left it at home."
"Then you're not getting in."
Malia opened her mouth to argue—
The guard's phone rang.
"What—" he started, then flinched as a furious voice screamed through the line.
"WHY IS MY COSMETICS DELIVERY NOT INSIDE YET?!"
The guard stiffened. "Cosmetics?"
"DON'T PLAY DUMB. I SEE EVERYTHING. SEND. IT. IN."
The call ended.
The guard waved them through immediately. "Go. Now."
Malia and Daphne exchanged a look, barely containing their relief. As they passed, Malia stuck her tongue out at the guard. He watched them drive off, muttering, "I hate this job."
Inside the compound, the mansion loomed—massive, cold, powerful. Malia whistled. "Imagine living like this. Servants, luxury… snapping your fingers and the world bends."
Daphne didn't respond. Her eyes were fixed on the upper floors, her fists trembling.
"Liam's in there," she said quietly. "And we can't reach him."
Malia's tone softened. "We'll get him. Just not today." She hesitated. "Right now, we focus on Jason…" Daphne glanced at her.
"…and Brandon," Malia added quickly.
Daphne let out a short laugh. "Good."
The truck rolled deeper into enemy territory. Daphne's voice dropped to a whisper. "Now the real trouble begins."