AFTER TWO WEEKS of functioning on the peaceful routine that had been established, it was finally time for that order to collapse. Nathan had been summoned to Julius Cain's office once more, most likely to discuss the matters regarding the former's family. It couldn't be a mission, Devora deduced, as she hadn't been called in as well.

It felt weird to head to practice without Nathan by her side. She had grown so used to their little regime that having him away made the air around her feel colder all of a sudden. The warmth that lingered around with his presence could no longer be found.

Nonetheless, it was still another day she was stuck in these walls, another day she had to train to keep her body in shape for future missions. Her life depended on it so there wasn't any room for procrastination.

In the gym, Candice and Leah were practicing darts in one corner while Travis and Dallas were sparring. Other than her friends, the gym was relatively silent that afternoon. The resounding thunk of the knives impaling the wooden dummies echoed throughout the gym and Devora needn't turn her head to know that with each of that sound came a bullseye. Leah had always been good with her aim. She was Candice's personal pupil, after all.

"That's all you got?" Dallas taunted from behind in the ring, waving his fingers in a 'come at me' motion. Travis let out a groan, yelling a battle cry of sorts before it was followed by the sound of a loud crash. "That's it! Let out all that anger!"

Travis fought mercilessly. His movements, unlike his sister's, weren't as precise and quick. His fighting style didn't focus on agility but rather his strength. Ever since his recruitment, Travis had grown from that scraggly and scrawny boy to someone with more meat on his bones. He seemed much taller than he did at first, now that he was fed enough nutrients for him to properly grow and develop.

Although this assassin organization brought much pain and sorrow to Devora at the very beginning, she couldn't deny that it did people like Travis, Nathan, and Leah well to certain extents. All three of them came from lower-end families, households that could barely tide themselves through each day. Entering such a morally gray but high-paying job would propel them into a life they would've otherwise never known. It gave them a roof over their heads and warm food in their stomach, never worrying them about the availability of the next meal. That way, they could focus their youth on other things.

A lot was given up, true, but they had also gained a lot in return. At present, Devora could finally see with clear and unbiased eyes that it was a fair exchange. She, too, had grown fond of life here. Nothing was waiting for her back home. Nothing she dreadfully missed, at least.

It didn't take long for Travis to tackle Dallas, both boys in a tangle of arms and limbs on the ground. They had locked each other in a death grip, unwilling to relent and let go for the sake of their ego.

Devora walked over slowly, a grin on her face as she watched both boys fumble around — and fail — to get the upper hand.

"You're both such losers," she chortled, resting her hands on her hips. Simultaneously, both boys scowled at her comment before detaching themselves from each other. A new challenger had approached.

"Come and fight us then, Dora. I bet that we'll win you with both hands bound behind our backs. One on one. I don't mind going first." Dallas smirked cockily, confidence shining. On the other hand, Travis furiously shook his head.

"Uh uh, no way. Have you ever seen her fight during missions? She is utterly ruthless even without a weapon. You'll be dead on the ground in a matter of seconds."

Dallas rubbed his nose. "You're forgetting that I've been in this career longer than Dora has."

"You're forgetting that anger fuels strength and there's no one else with more anger than she has," Travis retorted, flailing his arms around. "She's practically the personification of war!"

The two continued to bicker like an old married couple, throwing comments back and forth as Devora watched them fondly. Making use of the time they were distracted and off guard, she looped her arms over both their shoulders, standing in between the two. One after another in quick succession, she tripped their legs from the front while using her arms to propel them forward, causing them to fall and land on their chests and palms.

"Told ya," Travis groaned in pain, burying his face into the floor as deeply as he was allowed to. "Shit. That hurt."

A short burst of laughter escaped Devora's lips as she squatted down to their level, ruffling Travis's hair before lightly slapping the back of Dallas's head.

"You have no respect for your seniors," Dallas muttered under his breath, weakly disguising it with a cough.

"And you underestimate your juniors," Devora wittily retorted, smirking when Dallas huffed in defeat at her words.

Dallas's lips parted, evidently ready to reply something snarky as well. However, he was disturbed when their attention was drawn to a pair of approaching footsteps. It wasn't just the trio in the sparring ring. Even Candice and Leah had stopped their training, turning over to take a cautious glance at who had stepped into the gym. After all, there wasn't anyone else present today. It had been their 'personal' haven for many hours.

The sliding doors opened to reveal the same young boy which Devora had spotted in Julius Cain's office. Markus, his name was. Despite having a young age, his features were already handsomely defined. There was no doubt about it. He was indeed Julius Cain's son, a perfect carbon copy. In the years to come, Markus Cain would probably even grow up to be a heartbreaker. For now, though, the whole room was fixated on his adorably clueless expression, large brown eyes scanning the room before finally landing on Devora.

"What's Cain's son doing here?" Devora could hear Candice whisper from a distance away, most likely to Leah. To Candice's question, the younger girl simply made a sound of unawareness.

The boy cleared his throat after stopping right in front of Devora, straightening his spine before wiping the expression of naivety from his face and replacing it with a mask of confidence.

"My father would like to speak to Miss Evans?" Markus phrased his sentence as a question even though everyone knew his words were more of an order. The boy's eyes darted back and forth. Despite trying to act tough, Devora could see that he was a little nervous. It took all she had in her not to coo and fawn over how precious he was.

Although Devora silently wondered why Julius Cain hadn't just equipped the use of the building's sound system, she knew better than to speak up about such a small thing. Besides, the boy had done nothing wrong. It would've been awful on her part if she had chosen to humiliate him by pointing out the obvious faults in his story right there in front of the others.

"Let's go," Devora said, following Markus out of the gym, stepping into the empty corridors. As she left, she spared her friends a smile and a quick wave of goodbye. In the end, she didn't manage to squeeze in any practice before getting hoisted out of the doors.

Not that it bothered her.

Once they were out of view from Devora's friends, Markus's posture immediately slackened. He looked umpteen times more relaxed. Gone was the boyish charm from his face, immediately replaced by the innocent grin and sparkle a child should have.

"Is something wrong?" Devora inquired. "Your dad didn't really want to speak to me, did he? He would've used the speakers if he did."

"Oh, my father did request your presence, though it was not to be immediate," Markus answered. "So I offered to come look for you instead. I just thought that I could get some company before that?"

They started to walk, slowly headed for Julius Cain's office at a leisurely pace.

"Does your dad not spend time with you?"

Devora was itching to find out more about this mysterious little boy. She knew that the organization recruited children but she hadn't thought that she would see someone who wasn't even in their teens yet walk through these morbid halls.

"Not as much as he used to. Father and I moved here from our hometown some time ago. This has been my home ever since then. He gets rather busy with his job. I understand. There isn't much time for him to spare for a child when he handles the lives of others." The boy spoke with an eerie calmness, his sentences formed with the poise no child his age should possess. It was just as it seemed— every child here was forced to grow up too quickly. No exception was provided for the son of their leader.

Frowning, Devora sighed. It was an upsetting sight to see a parent prioritizing their career over their flesh and blood. However, young as she was, she supposed she didn't know enough about being a parent to judge their actions. Perhaps there was a reason why Julius Cain would place importance on his job over spending time with his child.

"I've seen you around your dad a lot. Where do you go whenever he has important meetings?"

"Here and there," Markus replied, vague. A mischievous glint sparkled in the young boy's eyes. "This place holds more secrets than you'll ever know, Miss."

"You're with your friends, then?"

"I don't have many friends. Just one. Alec. He was a great part of my childhood and we call sometimes during the weekends when Father lets me. Other than that, I guess some of the agents are friendly enough to stop and say 'hi' every once in a while. Most of them just avoid me."

"Well... It's adorable how you pulled me out of training just because you wanted some company." Laughing, she fondly looked down at Markus whose face was flushed scarlet.

"Well, Miss Evans—"

"Devora is fine."

"Well, Devora, Father did say that you are a wonderful young lady. I've seen many newcomers enter and leave these halls, some for good. Yet, it's been a while since a talent like yourself has joined. Additionally..." Markus trailed off, scratching his cheek, "You seem nice."

'How cute,' Devora thought. Instead, she asked, "You do know what it is we do here, right?"

Markus paused, his eyebrows furrowed as he tucked both his hands into the little pockets of his pants. "Yes, I'm well aware. You're all assassins."

"Then you know that it is our job to seem nice. But that doesn't necessarily mean we are."

"People can seem to be many things. However, if it isn't true to their personality, the false facade they put up will only trick the weakest of minds. No matter how deep, you are kind inside and this reflects on yourself even when you think that that part of you is lost. I know you are nice. Further beyond a job description."

Devora hadn't even noticed that they had come to a stop right in front of two familiar but intimidatingly large doors. She had been too distracted by Markus's words, stumped that such wisdom came from a child who was just eight-years-old. There was a satisfied smile on Markus's lips before he took a bow, gesturing to the door to his father's office.

"Thank you for keeping me company, Devora. It was... pleasant."

With that, Markus turned, scuttling down the hallways much faster than they had come. He took a turn and just like that, his shadow disappeared past a corner, leaving Devora alone to knock on the heavy doors.

————

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