We Do What We Want

The Search

1/4/1467

Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Ba-dum.

The rhythmic thud of Alex's heartbeat grew louder, each pulse reverberating in her ears as she approached the grand oak doors leading to her parents' office. The ancient wood stood tall and imposing, the intricate carvings of her family's crest etched into its surface, a testament to the legacy of the Solace family. Her footsteps faltered, her body stiffening as an unfamiliar sensation crept up her spine. Fear. It gnawed at the edges of her carefully constructed facade—a feeling she had always fought to suppress. She'd faced death countless times, danced along the razor's edge of danger, but this? This was different.

Her pulse quickened. Alex clenched her fists tightly, the worn bandages wrapped around her hands creasing with the pressure. The tension in her body was a stark contrast to the rigid calm she exuded. Smiley—the winged girl—shouldn't have been there. The man shouldn't have known about the mission. Everything was wrong, and the questions swirling in her mind clouded her thoughts, obscuring the clarity she needed to face her parents.

Just beyond the towering double doors, her parents awaited her. The ever-present weight of their expectations pressed down on her chest. This wasn't the first mission that had gone awry, but it was the first where she had felt utterly outmatched. The tight bandages around her neck, still fresh from the night's chaos, felt like a noose around her throat.

She halted before the door, staring blankly at the dark wood. Her hands trembled slightly, and her breath came in shallow, uneven bursts. The assistants standing at either side of the entrance exchanged worried glances, their concern evident in the way one of them cleared his throat.

"M'lady?" one of them finally ventured, his voice hesitant. He shifted awkwardly, eyes darting between Alex and the closed doors, unsure if he should say more.

Alex remained frozen, her gaze unfocused. The assistant's words barely registered. The weight of the previous night clung to her like a shroud, suffocating her. The scuffle with the winged girl and the human man haunted her thoughts. She had replayed the encounter countless times, each repetition only deepening her confusion. How did they know about the mission? How did they ambush her so precisely? Her heart raced again, a sharp contrast to the stillness of her body.

Inside the room, Evelyn Solace, her mother, stood beside her husband, Oliver, reviewing documents at the desk. The air in the office was thick with an unspoken tension. They were waiting—impatiently—for their daughter's return. It wasn't like Alex to hesitate, to delay a report. That, in itself, was alarming.

Evelyn, her sharp black eyes always so perceptive, noticed the unease among the assistants through the crack in the door. Concern etched her elegant features. She stepped around the massive mahogany desk, her long silk gown sweeping across the floor, and moved toward the door. Her motherly instinct flared. Something was wrong.

"Alex, darling, snap out of it," Evelyn's voice called softly, her hand reaching to push open the door slightly. The woman's voice was tinged with a concern she rarely expressed. She approached her daughter cautiously, watching for a reaction, her presence almost ethereal as she closed the gap.

But Alex remained lost, her body a rigid statue. The weight of the mission's failure weighed on her so heavily that she didn't notice her mother approaching. Evelyn's brows furrowed as she reached out, snapping her fingers in front of Alex's vacant gaze. Nothing. Alex was completely unresponsive.

"Allow me, Evelyn." The deep, authoritative voice of Oliver Solace cut through the room like a blade. His footsteps echoed as he approached the two women. Where Evelyn's touch had been soft, gentle, Oliver's was firm and commanding. He placed a hand on his daughter's shoulder, squeezing lightly.