Mask

MASK 28: PLAN

Athira's POV.

The air was colder here. The wind brushing through the trees, the quiet hum of the leaves rustling—it was the only sound accompanying my soft sobs. I sat on the wooden bench under the overgrown pergola, my fingers lightly strumming the guitar I've always carried with me.

This place—my mother's villa, far away from everything and everyone was the only place I could breathe.

The villa was nestled in a quiet forest, untouched and hidden. No one really comes here. No one knows how much pain this place holds or how much comfort it gives me. It was here where she used to sing. It was here where she gave me this guitar.

"You'll carry my heart with every note you play," she once told me. I've carried this guitar ever since. Wherever I go, it comes with me. Tonight, just like all the other nights, I found myself back here. Strumming. Crying. Searching for peace in the chords I knew by heart.

Tears fell freely as I played. The grief always came in wave  but tonight it suddenly hit me like a storm. Memories flashed in my head—her voice calling my name, her laughter echoing in the kitchen, the warmth of her embrace, and then... the gunshots.

This is what happens when you let your feelings control you. Bumalik tuloy sa akin ang lahat ng nangyari. I was weak before—because of love. I was blind. But never again. Just because he hurt me doesn't mean I'll let myself stay broken.

I used to dream of her voice guiding me through war, but all I hear now is silence. Is this what becoming strong means? Feeling nothing when your soul is in ruins?

All of a sudden  I heard footsteps that's why I hurriedly prepared myself for any harm that might come and loaded my gun whilst hiding the evidence of my breakdown.

The weight of the gun grounded me. Familiar. Comforting. My breathing slowed as I pressed my back against the stone pillar behind the vines. My heart still pounded from crying, but my arms were steady. I've done this too many times to count. This wasn't just defense—it was survival. My mother always told me, "A Saunders woman never hesitates."

I listened closely. Three sets of footsteps. Not rushed. Heavy but coordinated. Whoever was approaching wasn't in a hurry—but they weren't cautious either. They knew I'd hear them. They wanted me to.

A shadow flickered near the edge of the garden. My grip tightened. Any second now. I counted under my breath, "Three... two..."

"Athira!" when I heard those voice calling my name, I didn't think twice but to point them my gun and that's when I saw them unfazed —Mason and Marcus. The twins together with Enrique.

"We've been looking everywhere for you," Mason said, panting. "We had a hard time finding you," Marcus added. "You disappeared. No one knew where you went. We just followed our instinct... and ended up here." I don't know but I dropped the barrel slowly while my finger was still resting on the trigger.

My eyes narrowed. "Why are you here?" I can feel that the air suddenly turned heavy. Marcus stepped forward. "We've been looking for you." I didn't respond. They didn't deserve my words — not yet.

"You already know what our fathers did," he continued, his tone more tired than angry. "We're not here to explain that again. We're here because things have gotten worse."

My gaze sharpened. "Worse how?"

Marcus stepped in. "More members have flipped. People we trusted—gone, they've corrupted people. Turned. Or worse, pretending to still be loyal. The whole organization's bleeding from the inside."

"And we barely have anyone left," Mason added. "Just fragments. Everyone else has been bought, silenced, or scared off." I didn't say anything. My throat tightened with the weight of it all. I had suspected this when I left — but hearing it confirmed only made the rage settle deeper.