Lussaria; Her Final Blade

chapter five

The ride back was just as long and disorienting as the journey there. Rosa sat in the passenger seat, her hands resting on her lap, no blindfold this time but no clearer about what she was supposed to feel. Her uncle drove in silence, the only sound coming from the hum of the engine and the occasional scrape of gravel beneath the tires as they made their way down the secluded road.

She could still feel the weight of the knife in her hand, the cool metal pressing against her palm as if it had imprinted itself on her skin. The memory of it, the ease with which she had caught it, still clung to her, stirring something deep within her that she had tried to bury long ago.

As they approached her apartment building, the familiar outline of her street coming into view, Rosa felt a strange sense of displacement. New York had always been her refuge, a place to escape the suffocating reality of her past. But now, the city felt foreign, as though her uncle had dragged her back into a world she’d sworn to leave behind, and there was no room for both.

Her uncle slowed to a stop, parking the car in front of her building. He didn’t say a word as she opened the door, stepping out onto the sidewalk. For a moment, she stood there, gripping the handle, waiting for him to say something—anything—that might make this decision easier.

But there was only silence.

“Stay sharp,” he said at last, the same words he had left her with in the mansion, and then he drove away, leaving her standing there, alone beneath the dim streetlights.

Rosa lingered for a moment longer, watching the taillights disappear into the night before turning toward her building. Her steps felt heavy as she made her way up the stairs, her mind buzzing with the weight of the decision she was about to make. She unlocked her door and stepped inside, the familiar smell of coffee and laundry detergent greeting her like a distant memory from another life.

She dropped her keys on the counter, her eyes scanning the small apartment. It was her sanctuary, a place where she could pretend none of this had ever happened. The life she had built here was simple, clean—a far cry from the blood-soaked memories that now haunted her.

Rosa paced the length of her living room, her mind racing. What did she do now? Her uncle’s words echoed in her head: *You’ll know when the time comes. For now, all you need to focus on is preparation.*

But how could she prepare for something like this? How could she willingly go back into that world?

She sank onto her couch, burying her face in her hands. Images of the arsenal flashed through her mind—the guns, the knives, the cold certainty in her uncle’s voice. He was grooming her, manipulating her into something she never wanted to be again. And yet, deep down, she knew he was right. There was a part of her that had never left that world, no matter how much she wanted to believe otherwise.

The weight of the knife had felt familiar for a reason.

Rosa closed her eyes, letting the silence of her apartment settle around her. The decision had already been made, hadn’t it? She had gone with him, entered the mansion, touched the weapons. Maybe there was a part of her that wanted this, that was drawn to the violence because it was all she knew.

She shook her head, standing up abruptly. No. That wasn’t who she was anymore. She wasn’t a killer. She wasn’t her mother’s daughter.

But as she stood there, staring at her reflection in the darkened window, a small voice whispered in the back of her mind: "you came here to finish what yiu started"

Rosa clenched her fists, turning away from the window. She had to make a decision. She couldn’t live in this limbo, caught between two lives. Either she walked away from this once and for all, or she embraced it, fully, without hesitation.

Her phone buzzed on the counter, and she stared at it for a long moment before picking it up. A message from her uncle:

"You'll hear from me soon, be ready"

Her heart pounded in her chest as she read the words, and for the first time since she had left the mansion, she felt a strange sense of clarity. There was no turning back, but there was still a choice to be made.

Rosa took a deep breath, setting the phone down. She walked to the small cabinet in her bedroom and opened it, pulling out an old wooden box. Inside was her mother’s gun, the one she had used all those years ago. She hadn’t touched it since that night, but now, as her fingers wrapped around the cold metal, it felt like an old friend.

She stared at the gun, her mind quiet for the first time all night.

And then, in that stillness, she made her decision.

Rosa slipped the gun into her bag, her face set in grim determination. She wasn’t walking away this time.

Just as she zipped the bag shut, her phone buzzed again. Another message from an unknown number this time. Her heart leapt into her throat as she opened it:

“We’re closer than you think. Check the door.”

Her blood ran cold. She froze, her gaze darting toward the front door. It was silent—too silent. The kind of silence that presses in from all sides, suffocating, unnatural.

Slowly, she stood up, her feet moving on autopilot as she crossed the small space between the bedroom and the front door. Her hand hovered over the handle, hesitation clawing at her insides. She wasn’t ready for this, not now, not here. But something had already shifted—she could feel it. The moment she touched that gun, she’d triggered a chain of events she couldn’t control.

With a deep breath, Rosa unlocked the door and pulled it open.

The hallway was empty, a gaping void of dim lighting and stale air. She frowned, peering out, half expecting someone to step out from the shadows.

Nothing.

But then, just as she was about to close the door, she noticed it—a single white envelope on the ground, its edges crisp and pristine against the worn carpet. No name. No markings.

Her pulse quickened as she crouched down to pick it up, her fingers trembling slightly as she slid her thumb beneath the seal. The paper crackled as she unfolded the note inside, and when her eyes scanned the hastily scrawled words, her breath hitched.

“You have 24 hours. Fail, and someone you love will die.”

She nearly dropped the paper, her mind spinning as she frantically replayed the faces of the people she still cared about. Sunny, Santo, rico. The few pieces of a life she’d managed to salvage. A cold sweat broke out on her forehead.

And then, just as her mind began to spiral, the phone buzzed again, startling her so badly she almost let out a yelp. Another message from the same unknown number:

“Tick tock, Rosa. The clock has already started.”

Rosa’s heart thundered in her chest. She looked back at the empty hallway, the envelope still crumpled in her fist, and the realization hit her with the force of a freight train.

She wasn’t alone anymore.