AYRA - The Mystery Of Kyra Sanders [2]

.1.

EDITED.

                          SHANNON THREW the door to the director's office open and slammed the file onto Alaric's desk. She was furious. Why did AYRA keep these kinds of files lying around? And why did she not know about them?

Alaric looked up at her, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion, "What's wrong?"

"This!" she snapped as she pointed down at the file she had been holding, which was now on the desk.

"Why does this file exist?" she demanded. She was livid and on a mission for answers.

Alaric picked up the file and paled slightly looking at the label. He did not know how to get out of this mess. He understood Shannon's behaviour. He would have been livid too. But secretly, he was happy she had come to him, rather than going to Kayla. He did not want to face that woman's wrath.

"Why is it there?" Shannon stressed. She was glad that it was her who found it. She was sitting in the room with Rachel. At least Rachel did not notice the file. The thought of Rachel finding the file tore her brain apart.

Alaric sighed. He put down the file and motioned Shannon to sit in the seat in front of him. Shannon was a child; he could delay this conversation. But he would need to do it the right way, she was smart enough to understand the fact that she wasn't getting any answers.

"How much did you see?" he enquired. He was smart. He wouldn't open his mouth wide enough and tell her something she hadn't seen. That would cause more questions to arise.

"Not much" she shook her head. Which was true. She had just seen the brief of the file, but it was enough. Enough to confuse her.

"All I can tell you is Kyla will have my head if I open up. You know how the woman is. I'm sorry kid" he shrugged and took the file.

"But- "Shannon moved to protest but stopped when Alaric gave her a look. A look she understood quite well. She couldn't press him further.

Placing the file inside one of his lockers he looked at Shannon, "Off you go, Agent. Duty calls"

Shannon frowned but nodded and left the director's office.

                      RACHEL LOOKED at her reflection in the mirror. Her faded brown hair hung loosely on the shoulders and her pale face stared back at her. Her blue eyes looked lost, deep in thought, though her thoughts were empty. Her reflection staring back at her was familiar. She looked like this for the majority of the time she lived in Virginia. Coming here three months ago, done with graduation and ready to take over her mother's position at AYRA.

Agent Walters I, she cringed. Why was she chosen to be the next head for the baby CIA agency? So much pressure at such a tender age. Sure, she was eighteen, but the history AYRA shared made it quite clear that her parents got involved at the age of twenty-one.

Unconsciously, she pulled a strand of her brown hair and curled it around her index finger. She felt different, no longer the girl she was five months ago. She felt stronger, in charge of her emotions. But her heart felt empty. She lost her old self, her old life and most importantly her old friends. She had become a shell of a person.

Daniel and her had lost touch last month. He had his own family legacy to fulfil. The Batten's were involved with some dirty underground business the agency used to cover their tracks. In the end however, they were all drifting apart. She wished it wasn't like this.

With Natasha gone forever, no one was in a condition to go back to the way things were. It felt like the glue binding them together itself had worn out and disappeared. The glue being Natasha.

Of course they never realised it at that moment that the glue was indeed Natasha, they faced the repercussions with a slap to the face.

At that moment, her cell pinged,

Martha's; 7:30 PM. Don't bring a soul, it read.

She frowned; it was an unknown number. She looked back up at herself one last time. She may or may not have a hunch about who it could be. Taking a deep breath, she decided to go.

She wore her casual gear – A cotton shirt, a vest, pants and a jacket. Contemplating her choices, she bent down towards her drawers and pulled out a small gun tucking it at her side making the jacket hide it, rather conveniently.

Zipping up her jacket all the way to her neck, she walked downstairs and took the stairs near the kitchen to the Garage and started her car. It would take her an hour to reach Martha's.

Martha's was just like any other coffee shop – a counter with a bored lady chewing gum, few tables in the centre and booths at the sides. Red and Blue combination furniture and dull white painted walls decorated with a few aesthetic paintings.

Walking in, the smell of caffeine immediately hit her. She walked towards the last booth in the far end corner and took a seat.

7:25 PM, the time read, as she looked at her wrist watch.

"What can I get you?" A bored voice asked.

She looked up to see one of the waitresses who worked here.

"I'll just have a glass of water, thanks" She replied. She was distracted, busy wondering about who this unknown person was. What information did he even have? Or she.

Five months ago, Rachel would've been scared to death meeting a stranger an hour away from home. But this time, she was stronger, prepared. She wasn't afraid.

"Rachel" a feminine voice called out her name.

She looked behind; the person very familiar to her. In fact, she had spent two years with her. The worst two years of her life.

"Kyra" she whispered; shell shocked.