The Castle School of Self-Defense

Chapter 12 - The Plan

1200hrs
6th November
CIA Safe House, Washington D.C.

The brownstone safe house, nestled inconspicuously in a quiet Washington D.C. neighborhood, betrayed nothing of its true purpose. From the outside, it was unremarkable, blending seamlessly with the other homes on the street. But inside, it was a fortress—reinforced walls, bulletproof windows, and a basement that housed a state-of-the-art command center.

Charlotte stepped out of the black SUV, moving carefully, mindful of the wound in her side. Though stitched up, the stab wound still ached with every movement, and the bruises across her body hadn't yet faded. Her injuries were a stark reminder of how close she'd come to losing everything.

She glanced at William, who stood on the curb with her, scanning the street with a wary gaze. Despite his ordeal, he seemed determined, though his concern for her was evident in the way his eyes lingered on her every time she winced or shifted her posture.

"Let me carry that," William offered, gesturing to her bag.

Charlotte raised an eyebrow but handed it over. "I'm not an invalid, you know."

"You're also not invincible," William replied with a small smile.

The warmth in his voice sent a flicker of something through her—something she hadn't allowed herself to acknowledge before. Shaking the thought, she followed him to the door, where she entered a code into the keypad. The lock clicked open, and they stepped inside.

The safe house was sparsely furnished, its first floor designed to resemble an ordinary home. But both of them knew that the true purpose of this place lay beneath their feet. Charlotte led William down a narrow staircase to the basement, her steps careful and deliberate.

The room below was all business—a table surrounded by high-backed chairs, walls lined with monitors displaying live feeds, and cabinets stocked with weapons and tactical gear. Sitting at the head of the table was Sam Snow, Charlotte's father.

Sam stood as they entered, his gaze landing on William, with his usual big smile on his face. "Good to see you again, William," he said, his voice steady.

William smiled back, though there was an edge of unease in his expression. "It's been a while, sir."

Sam had been the one to recruit William to the Castle School of Self-Defense, seeing potential in the boy even when William hadn't seen it in himself. Back then, Sam had been a figure of authority, someone distant and enigmatic. Now, with the stakes higher than ever, William wasn't sure how to feel.

Sam's gaze softened as he took in Charlotte's cautious movements. "How's the wound?"

Charlotte shrugged, though her hand instinctively went to her side. "It'll heal. I've had worse."

"You shouldn't have had to deal with it at all," William muttered, his tone heavy with guilt.

Charlotte glanced at him, a small smile playing on her lips. "I told you, it's not your fault. You can stop blaming yourself any day now."

Sam cleared his throat, drawing their attention back to the table. "We've got work to do. Sit down."

The three of them took their seats, and Sam pulled up a digital map of Washington D.C. on the central monitor. Several points were marked in red, scattered across the city.

"These are the known locations where the enemy has been active," Sam began. "Safe houses, supply points, communication hubs. But their central base of operations is still a mystery. From what we know, the place where Charlotte rescued you this morning is supposedly their central base, but we cannot know for sure."

Charlotte leaned forward, her brow furrowed. "What's the plan?"

"We hit them where it hurts," Sam replied. "We're not waiting for them to come after us again. We're going on the offensive."

William's eyes narrowed. "How? If that was just a secondary location, won't they abandon them the moment we attack? These probably mean nothing to them!"

"That's the risk," Sam admitted. "But we've managed to intercept some of their communications. We know enough to force their hand. If we can hit their central operations command, which I'm 80% sure that it was where you were kept this morning, we might be able to flush them out."

"And what happens when we find them?" William asked.

"We take them down," Sam said simply.

There was a heavy silence as the weight of his words sank in.

"What do you need from us?" Charlotte asked, breaking the tension.

Sam's eyes flicked to her. "I need you both to be ready. Charlotte, your recovery isn't where I'd like it to be, but we don't have time to wait. And William..." He paused, studying the younger man. "I need you to trust yourself. You've got more strength than you realize, but you have to believe in it."

William swallowed hard, his thoughts a whirlwind. He glanced at Charlotte, her presence grounding him in a way he couldn't explain. If she could put herself on the line for him, the least he could do was step up.

"I'm in," he said firmly.

That evening, as the house settled into an uneasy quiet, Charlotte and William found themselves in the small living room. The tension of the day lingered, but for a moment, they allowed themselves a brief reprieve.

Charlotte sat on the couch, a blanket draped over her legs. The glow from the fireplace softened her features, but William couldn't miss the exhaustion in her eyes or the way her hand occasionally drifted to her side.

"You should be resting," William said quietly, sitting beside her.

"So should you," she countered, her lips quirking into a faint smile.

They fell into a companionable silence, the crackle of the fire filling the space between them.

"I still don't understand why you're doing all this for me," William admitted after a moment. "You've already been through so much because of me."

Charlotte turned to him, her expression softening. "It's not just about you, William. This is bigger than both of us. But..." She hesitated, her cheeks flushing slightly. "You're important to me. I don't want to see you hurt."

William's heart raced at her words. He'd always admired her strength, her determination, but hearing her say that she cared for him—really cared—was something he hadn't expected.

"You're important to me too," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Their eyes met, and for a moment, the world outside the safe house faded away. There was something unspoken between them, something neither of them was quite ready to name, but it was there, undeniable and growing stronger with every passing day.

Before either of them could say more, Sam's voice echoed from the basement.

"Charlotte! William! Get down here. We've got something."

The moment shattered, and they both stood, the weight of the mission crashing back down.

As they headed for the basement, William couldn't help but glance at Charlotte. Despite her injuries, she moved with purpose, her resolve unshaken.

And Charlotte, though she didn't look at him, felt a flicker of warmth in her chest. William's presence was steadying in a way she hadn't realized she needed. Whatever lay ahead, they would face it together.