Y/N 💥

Monday, 10:45pm

_

I'M SCARED.

I think I always have been, but used my anger to pretend I was anything but. The few people who had the chance to know me saw this brash, arrogant woman—quick with a retort, always looking for a fight—but inside I knew I lay in the shadows of my own fear.

And I thought I could escape from it.

For a split moment, I thought I found a light—a person—who could drag me out of the hellhole I grew up in.

But I was wrong.

So here I was, trapped in a cell that reminded me of my past. He put me here. The man I let myself get tricked by. I was clinging onto the scraps of light shining through the metal bars, because of him, and I was back to being kept prisoner of my life.

I knew it was going too quickly.

There was no way we could go from hating each other to snogging in a week. I should have been more aware of that, I shouldn't have let myself get carried away. But for someone who's lived a life absent of love, you can't expect them to know what it is. They don't know how it feels. They've never felt it before.

They don't know if someone actually means it.

And clearly he didn't.

I left the dagger as a reminder. He could take my freedom away, but he'd never be able to take away the imprint I left on him. That scar would forever line his face, just like I hoped his guilt would. It didn't matter if it was his job, and it didn't matter if we were two opposites on the social chain—if you trick someone into opening their heart, I hope you drown in your own karma.

I was alone.

And I wish I could say I was used to it, but that's not something someone ever can get used to.

I'd been waiting in this cell for hours now, clothed in dirty grey uniforms given to me by a watch-officer, and my body aching from a fight gone by. Maybe I should take it as a compliment. He—who's name I don't even want to think—called twelve agents on me.

Maybe he thought I was that dangerous.

But no matter how dangerous I am, when you're outnumbered, you'll lose. He fooled me into thinking he was the one who trusted me, which made me want to trust him. To think that we were just playing a game, and we didn't mean any of it.

I wasn't going to kill him.

I wasn't like my Parents.

If he really was a good Agent, he would have known it from the start. The Oxford Street bombing? No casualties. The fires? No injuries. My family were known to kill, but I wanted to be everything away from them. I was no killer. I was simply a woman who loved destruction.

"Ash," a voice said, "not so confident now, are we?"

I snapped my head towards the door, my heartbeat quickening at the familiar voice. It wasn't who I thought it was—he hadn't bothered to visit since the time he walked away in the trailer park—but I didn't like who it really was either.

William Franklyn-Miller quickly shut the door behind him, eyes narrowed and lips pressed together in a thin line. He was wearing his pinstripe suit again, the one I had seen him wearing that day I blew up the clothing store, tailored to fit his slim build perfectly.

He approached my cell, which was kept in a separate room away from the other 'convicts'. I meant it when I said I was alone. I was pretty much isolated from the rest of the world like before.

"What do you want?" I frowned, slinking away into a corner.

He stopped a few inches away from the bars. "To observe."

"Observe what?"

"A sad sight, truly," he smirked, "you really thought you'd be able to win whatever game you were playing, didn't you?"

I glanced away. "If this is about my flirting with you last week, I assure you none of it was real."

He laughed at that.

"Oh, please, did you really think I was that desperate?" He scoffed, "if I wanted a woman, I could have one."

I furrowed my brows. I wasn't sure if he was being arrogant, insecure, or wrong-in-the-head, but I wasn't sure what he meant by that. It was uncomfortable to look at him, though. His cold, blue, eyes piercing through the cell-bars, just watching.

"I knew it was you, Ash," he said, "I just tricked you into thinking I was one of your oblivious marks."

I blinked. "What?"

He had to be joking.

"I've known about you for a while," he continued, his expression flickering with satisfaction, "for four years, to be exact."

What the hell?

"Let's just say, we have..."

He paused.

Then he smiled. "Mutual friends."

Before I had a chance to express my confusion, the door swung open again, and a shadowy figure stepped in. They were dressed in all black, a mask pulled up over the bottom half of their face, and a small black bag hanging off their shoulder. But I recognized them immediately.

"Millie," William said, holding out his hand towards her, "glad you could join us."

And suddenly I realized everything.

William said he'd known about me for four years—and four years ago was when Millie was recruited to watch me.

I always thought the girl was good with technology, because how else would she be able to give me a pass into the SIS, find me an Agent's email, and that very same Agent's address? No, she just had a friend inside the organization.

And the constant reassuring. The constant asking why I cared about an Agent, and pushing me to remember I held nothing but hate for him. The way she'd tense up when she heard me bring him up. She just wanted me to despise him, and she was just trying to hide the fact that she already knew about him.

I understood it all now.

But I didn't understand why.

"Did you really think it was just Ash and Dagger?" She smiled, pulling off her mask, "silly girl."

I felt like I didn't recognize her anymore. She was the closest thing I had to family, and now she's gone and betrayed me like the rest of them did. It was me, wasn't it? First my parents, then Partridge, and now Millie. Each time it happened, a piece of my heart got chipped off, and now I feel like I'm nothing more than a single matchstick.

Unable to spark a flame.

"How could you?" I spat out, "you were my friend."

Millie rolled her eyes. "It was very one-sided, [y/n], get over it."

"Why would you do this to me?"

She stopped, glancing at William, who glanced back at her. I hated seeing them together. They didn't belong together. They were supposed to be on opposite sides, and they were also supposed to hate each other—because that's just how it was supposed to be. They weren't supposed to be double agents sent to trick me for the millionth time.

The woman smirked.

"Let's just say—theoretically—that we wanted to take over London," she began to explain, "unfortunately, there are two big 'hot-shots' already running the place."

William added on. "The SIS and the Ashes, on both sides of the socioeconomic agenda."

"And let's say that those organizations have two leaders," Millie continued, "you and Partridge, correct? We originally thought we'd kill one of you off to gain power, but then we realized we'd still have the other to deal with. So we needed both of you out of the way."

"Why didn't you just kill me when you had the chance?" I scowled.

"Because it would be suspicious if the two power-houses of London suddenly died without an explanation."

"Then how did you expect us to die then?"

"We wanted the both of you to kill each other," William grinned, "then the world would think it was all a 'happy accident', and our organization could sweep in with a clean record and rule all. They wouldn't even know we existed, and by then, it would be too late."

"But then you two suddenly didn't hate each other anymore," Millie frowned, leaning towards the bars of my cell, "it was quite the shock when you came back saying you liked the bloke."

Well, they didn't have to worry about that now—the sodding back-stabber.

I wondered if Louis knew about this little double-agent tryst I've only just found out about. I wondered if he was oblivious to it. I didn't want to wonder about him, but this concerned the both of us being scorned by the two people we called our partners.

They weren't done talking.

"So, we decided we'd have to take matters into our own hands," William said, furrowing his brows, "catch you ourselves, kill you ourselves, and blame it on the other."

I scoffed. "Both of you are sick."

"We're smart," Millie corrected, "and you've just run out of time."

I didn't need to question what was happening, because I'd suspected it the moment the woman came walking in with that black bag. She was going to kill me. It was confirmed once she slid a small pistol out of the pocket, sliding her finger through the trigger and raising it up towards where I stood.

I had nowhere to run.

"I've been waiting four years to do this," she said sweetly, tilting her head, "better savor the moment."

"Millie, stop," I panicked, although I knew there was no negotiation for me to have.

She kept smiling. "And they'll all think your lover boy was the one who did it."

"No, please—"

"But you," she grinned, "you will be the only one who knows the truth. Only you will know your closest friend was the one who killed you."

"But who are you then?" I said, my heart racing, "who do you really work for?"

She laughed.

And in that moment all I could fear was the fear that lay in the bottom of my heart. I couldn't hide it this time. It was the last thing I'd be able to know, and the last thing I would see was the face of someone who I thought was my friend.

"We'll tell The Embers you say hello," she said, "Goodbye, Ash."

_

heheheh.