[ONC '24 SHORTLISTER] When a group of assassins is onto her irritating escort, a happy-go-lucky bodyguard must ensure they survive their trip before his escort's past demons catch up to them.
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No one expected easygoing Aspen Mendoza to be ac...
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Metro Iloilo Hospital and Medical Center
Iloilo
3 February, 11:13
The next 18 hours fly by in a wink. After getting shot by Azalea, everything else feels like a fever dream. I don't remember passing out from my injury. I don't remember the train arriving at Iloilo almost an hour later or being transported to a hospital. No, I don't even remember getting my leg dressed in lots of white gauze, a doctor telling me that it was a miracle the bullet didn't get through any major arteries, and that I have to take it easy for the next few weeks.
I only remember Lucas leaving me in that room to bleed out.
How could he leave me like that? How could he give up so easily? He already got off the Poison Grove's clutches for years—why give up now?
The worst thing is, I can't ask him anything. By the time I was lucid enough to form coherent sentences, the train security lost track of him and Azalea.
They've disappeared. Gone. Just like that.
Mr. dela Cruz—Jun was already dead before he even reached the emergency room. There was no cure for azalea poisoning, and Jun had an advanced version of it that there was nothing the doctors could do.
I should be glad that I survived, but I can't. It's unfair to feel anything but sadness when Jun's death could've been prevented. We could've gone to him sooner. I could've shaken some sense to Lucas so we could warn Jun the first time it all happened.
Now, the police are finally investigating the incident, which means La Solidaridad's itinerary isn't gonna get done anytime soon, and I'm stuck in the hospital for who knows how long. Could things get any worse?
A knock on the door interrupts my train of thought. I grumble "Come in", thinking that it's the lunch lady who's been bringing meals to my room since yesterday. Instead, a man slips through the stark door. He's two heads taller than me and has similar features as mine—dark brown hair, slightly kayumanggi skin, and blue eyes. With his polo and jeans and the satchel hanging on his side, one would think he's a normal guy coming in for a visit. But he's not just any other guy.
He's Rhodes Finley-Mendoza, senior Interpol officer and my one and only brother.
"Rhodey," I gasp.
Rhodey lights up when he sees me. "Aspen!"
He rushes beside me and wraps me in a tight embrace. I hold onto him for several beats, breathing in his fruity cologne and feeling his warmth. Everything I've been worrying about suddenly feels far and small.
I can't believe he's here. The last time I saw him was back in Lyon; I was being briefed for my assignment while he was preparing for a special trip to Monaco. When I asked him why he was going there, he only told me it was for "his secret project", something that he's been working on for years.
