Silent Vows

Chapter One

Interpol Headquarters – Geneva, Switzerland

The air inside Interpol was thick, almost electric, as if the very walls sensed that something monumental was about to happen. Agents moved swiftly through the hallways, but none more determined than Agent Laurent and Agent Varela. Their footsteps echoed off the cold tiles as they approached Room 5, the room that had suddenly become the center of everything they'd been working toward for years.

"We've been chasing her for months," Laurent muttered, his voice tense as he tightened his grip on the file he was holding. "And you want me to believe that she just walked in?"

Varela, always alert and cautious, cast a glance at him. There was no need for words between them; they both knew what the other was thinking. No one like Savanna Marchesi walks in willingly.

"She's up to something," Varela finally said, her voice tinged with suspicion. "She wouldn't just show up unless she had something to gain."

Inside Room 5, she sat handcuffed to the steel table. The woman they had spent months tracking, only to find her waiting for them. It didn't make sense.

Savanna was a woman who commanded attention, even in the stark interrogation room. Her caramel skin, smooth and glowing under the harsh fluorescent light, gave her an almost ethereal presence. Her green eyes, sharp and distant, watched them with a calm intensity that felt unnerving. She wasn't someone who would be easily rattled.

Laurent and Varela had seen her in glimpses before—grainy photos, surveillance footage, nothing that truly captured the reality of the woman before them. The only recent clear image of her they had was from when she was eight, a class photo that showed a girl who would one day grow into the striking woman seated in front of them. But even that image did nothing to prepare them for her presence.

Her hair, once wild and untamed in those photos, was now pulled back into a tight, sleek bun, each strand meticulously in place, giving her an air of control and precision. Despite the restraints on her wrists, she looked unbothered, regal even. The years had hardened her, but her beauty was undeniable, almost otherworldly.

As Laurent and Varela entered, Savanna barely acknowledged them, glancing their way briefly before her gaze settled back on the table. She exuded indifference, as though their arrival was merely part of an expected routine.

For a long moment, no one spoke. The silence in the room grew heavy as the agents tried to make sense of the situation. After months of chasing her, here she was, sitting quietly in front of them. It didn't add up.

Laurent broke the silence first. "Savanna Alessia Marchesi," he said, his voice weighted with the months of pursuit. "You've been hard to find."

Her green eyes lifted to meet his, cold and unwavering. "That's not my name," she replied, her voice sharp and firm.

Varela frowned as she opened the file in front of her, scanning the pages. "It's the name associated with you. The name linked to—"

"I was born Savanna Miller." she interrupted, her voice flat, though there was a quiet edge that challenged them to push further.

Laurent exchanged a glance with Varela, both recognizing the complexity of the situation. They knew what the Marchesi name represented—it wasn't just a name, it was power, history, danger. But they needed more than just a name. They needed the truth.

"You walked into our headquarters today," Varela said, her pen hovering over her notepad. "No chase, no arrest. You could've kept running. Why now?"

Savanna's fingers lightly traced the edge of the steel table, her touch absent-minded. Her gaze dropped briefly to her hands before lifting again to meet Varela's. " It came to my knowledge that you were looking for me. I came because I stopped running a long time ago," she said softly, though her words carried a weight that seemed to shrink the room. "I left that life two years ago. I like to think that it's not mine anymore."