Secret Silver | hiatus

vi. Rose Dubois

It's strange how all it takes is a few seconds to turn your world upside down.

When I woke up on a Sunday morning two weeks ago, I never thought that it might be the day my mom would die. I thought that I was going to wake up, be briefed about the weekend's events, and spend the rest of the evening planning for another mission.

That's how the day started out, anyway. I did wake up. I was updated on the mafia issue in Russia making its way into the United States. I was in Jupiter, conversing with some of my partners when I heard my mother shouting my name.

"Zara!"

Her shrill voice echoed through the forest and bounced off of the rock walls of Jupiter, where I sat with Oliver, Maya, and James.

Never had I seen her eyes so wide, fear riddled across her aging features as she stumbled into the cave. Her hair was messy and pulled out of her bun in several places, her shirt ripped at the collar, and a gash was burning a bright crimson on her right arm, which held a journal close to her chest.

The four of us sprung to our feet, sharing looks of concern and fear.

We had never seen her scared, much less hysterical.

The unbreakable woman was broken.

I rushed to her side, helping her sit down. Her hands were trembling, eyes searching our surroundings erratically. I placed a hand on her chest, squeezing her fingers tightly.

"Breathe, Mom." I tried to sound confident, reassuring, but it was difficult to do when the person you love most is crumbling right in front of you. Oliver was by her side in an instant, cleaning the wound that looked like it was caused by a blade.

Maya rummaged through the cooler in the corner, finally arriving with a bottle of water. She twisted the cap open and poured some into my mother's mouth, her own hands shaking.

James bolted outside with a gun, keeping guard around the cave.

"They're coming," she finally breathed, her words broken and urgent, "You need to run, Zara. All of you. You need to run—"

"Mom!"

I cupped her cold cheeks with my hands, turning her face towards mine so that my eyes stared into her hazel, almost identical ones. It was then that I noticed that they were red, glazed with tears that had dried on her cheeks.

She'd been crying.

Feeling sick, I took a deep breath.

"Slow down. Who's coming? Who did this to you?"

A million thoughts were racing through my mind. Why was she running?  Did someone attack the headquarters? Who else was in danger?

Who was she running from?

"Harris—he's going to kill me. He'll kill all of us. Chandler, Yuna, Walker... they're all dead."

The other Elite.

My blood ran cold, and I felt Oliver and Maya tense up beside me, their expressions mirroring mine. These were some of the people that had raised us. And they were gone.

"Who killed them? Mom, please talk to me," I begged, squeezing her face between my hands. Her breathing finally slowed, but her heart was still pounding dangerously fast. A tear rolled down her cheek and onto her collar. She sniffled, not even wincing when Oliver poured a nearby bottle of alcohol onto her open wound.

She'd been hurt worse.

"All of you need to listen to me," she said slowly, her voice with us but her eyes distant, as if they were in another world.