Caleb moved toward the door, his coat half on, frustration still simmering in his features. The room was dimly lit by the soft amber of the hallway light, and Kalisa sat on the edge of the bed, holding the towel tighter against her arm.
The silence between them was thick. There was something unspoken lingering like fog.
Kalisa looked at him and begged, "Don't go."
Caleb paused. He didn't turn around yet. He was wondering what had gotten into Kalisa that she went face to face with a known killer.
Kalisa's voice was firm, but vulnerable. "Not tonight. I… I owe you that much."
At that, he turned, eyes narrowing as he studied her.
Caleb's eyes were directly on her. "You don't owe me anything. I was only doing my job,"
Kalisa was gentle this time or more so "I do. You've been here… through all of this. Even when I pushed you away, even when I lied."
She stood slowly, walking toward him. Her voice lowered, full of quiet truth.
Caleb shot back, though now softly, "You should have trusted me."
"In my world, I have never trusted no one," she replied.
"No one?" Caleb said. He was not sure whether he was asking her or confirming her statement.
Kalisa replied, "I don't want to be alone tonight. Not after what happened. And not with what's coming."
For a long second, Caleb just looked at her, searching her face, her eyes, the truth behind the words.
Then he stepped forward and placed his hand gently on her cheek.
Caleb said softly, "I'm not going anywhere."
She leaned into his touch. It was hesitant at first, like touching peace for the first time in a warzone. Then slowly, naturally, their lips met. There was no rush. No urgency. Just the kind of kiss that said everything words couldn't.
Kalisa pulled him gently toward the bed, her hands finding the collar of his shirt, and laughter escaped her lips when she nearly stumbled.
Kalisa whispered through a laugh, "Gosh, we're a mess."
Caleb grinned, "Yeah… but we're still standing."
They fell together, tangled in warmth, in need, in the comfort of shared chaos. The shadows around them softened as clothes were slowly discarded, not with haste but with reverence.
Their love wasn't born out of lust. it was stitched from fear, trust, and the fragile hope that maybe, for a night, they could forget who might be waiting on the other side of the door.
Moans muffled by kisses, laughter threaded between whispers, and the quiet, rhythmic music of two people finding refuge in each other. The night became theirs.
Kalisa pulled out his belt and went straight to his trousers. She took out his dick and toyed with it. She was half sucking and gently stroking his balls.
"If you don't stop, you might make me release," he said softly.
"That's the plan," she replied.
He was reaching a climax when she stopped. It was as if she had mastered the act. She climbed on top of him slowly, trying to avoid hurting her injuries while riding him slowly.
If there was one person that Kalisa needed to be on her side right now, it was Detective Caleb. She was ready to fuck her way through it.
And for a moment… the world outside didn't exist.
The clock on Kalisa's wall ticked past 3 a.m., its sound too loud in the silence of the night. The city outside was asleep, but inside the small apartment, tension curled in the shadows like smoke.
Detective Caleb sat upright on the edge of the couch, his gun on the coffee table before him, cleaned and ready.
Kalisa's soft, even breathing came from the bedroom. She was asleep, completely, peacefully, vulnerably asleep. The calm in her chest rose and fell like a tide, unaware of the storm lingering just beyond the shore.
He glanced toward the door again, every creak and whisper from the hallway sharpening his nerves. Every sound made his hand inch toward the grip of the weapon. Something about tonight made his instincts scream.
Caleb stood silently, the floorboards barely groaning under his weight. He moved to the spare room where Lisa stayed. A soft light glowed under the door.
He knocked gently. "Lisa? Are you awake?"
The door opened a crack, and there she stood, not in bed, not resting, but sitting upright in her chair, a woolen shawl wrapped around her shoulders and, most strikingly, a long, curved blade resting across her lap.
Caleb's eyes widened, his brows drawing together in a tight line of disbelief. "You shouldn't be up. You're too ill to be handling a weapon, let alone staying alert."
Lisa's face was calm, unshaken. She looked at him like a woman who had seen war and already buried all her fear.
Lisa's voice was firm as she spoke to him, "Sickness doesn't dull the senses when danger walks close by. Something's coming."
Caleb stepped fully into the room, lowering his voice. "I didn't think you'd feel it too."
Lisa's grip on the blade didn't falter. "Tell me. Who's after my daughter?"
Caleb hesitated for a moment. It felt strange, even foolish, to confess this to a woman who should have been in bed with tea and medicine, certainly not armed and vigilant like a soldier.
But something in her eyes told him she already knew more than he could imagine.
"They call him the Swordsman. Don Khan sent him. He's… lethal. Ruthless. A ghost with a blade. If he's been hired, Kalisa's life is—"
Lisa interrupted, cutting him abruptly, "—numbered."
That one word, so calmly spoken, chilled Caleb more than any scream would have. His gaze narrowed.
"You know him?"
Lisa didn't answer right away. Her fingers traced the blade across her lap as though it were an old friend. The silence grew heavy.
Caleb called out. "Lisa?"
Lisa finally replied to him. "I trained him."
The words hit him like a cold slap across the face.
Caleb was stunned. "You… what?"
Lisa leaned back slightly in her chair, her eyes distant, seeing something far beyond the room, something buried in the past.
"Many years ago. Before I ever became a nurse. Before Kalisa was born. I taught him everything, how to strike, how to vanish, how to listen to the rhythm of silence and move like smoke. He was my student. My shadow."
Caleb was stunned. He stared at the woman before him, trying to reconcile her worn frame and tired eyes with the ruthless assassin she claimed to have shaped.
"You trained the Swordsman? Lisa… why didn't you tell any of us about this before?"
Lisa replied quietly, "Because I left that life behind. Or at least, I tried to. Kalisa doesn't know… and she must never find out."
Caleb ran a hand through his hair, his heart pounding now, not just from the idea of the Swordsman, but from this woman who had been hiding the truth in plain sight.
C"Lisa, if you trained him… can you stop him?"
Lisa's eyes met his. And for the first time since he'd known her, there was a flicker of something terrifying and beautiful in her stare
"No. Not anymore. He's surpassed even my instruction. If he's truly after her… only one thing will stop him."
"What's that?" Caleb asked.
"Either the truth… or her blood," Lisa replied.
Caleb stepped back, jaw tight, his thoughts racing. He looked toward the door, where Kalisa was still fast asleep, unaware that the predator hunting her was once tied to her bloodline.
Caleb, in a low voice, "She has to know. We have to tell her—"
"Not yet. If she finds out too much too soon, she'll run. And if she runs, she'll die," Lisa said, feeling pity for her daughter.
Outside, the wind shifted. A dog barked down the alley. Somewhere in the city, a blade gleamed under moonlight.
When Caleb closed the door softly behind him, the room fell silent once again.
Lisa sat motionless in the chair, the dim bedside lamp casting long shadows over the creases of her worn face. The blade rested across her laps like a relic from a life she had buried, sharp, gleaming, and out of place in this quiet home she had tried so hard to build for Kalisa.
She stared at the door for a long time, not truly seeing it. Her thoughts were far away. Somewhere darker. Somewhere colder.
The Swordsman.
A name whispered in underground corridors. A name that struck fear even in those who thought themselves beyond fear.
And she had created him.
Her lips pressed into a thin, trembling line. She hadn't said everything to Caleb, couldn't. Not yet. But the truth burned in her chest like fire, and she knew it was only a matter of time before she would have to face it.
She had trained a killer.
She had trained that killer.
Not just in the techniques of death, but in the principles of silence, detachment, precision, and the rules of shadows. He had been her finest student, the one who learned fastest, who never flinched, never hesitated. And now he was hunting Kalisa. Her daughter.
Lisa was whispering to herself, "What have I done?"
Her voice cracked under the weight of the question. She pressed her hands against her face, trying to breathe through the ache clawing at her chest. All her life, she had tried to protect Kalisa from this world. Shield her from the darkness that had once consumed her.
But you can't outrun the past.
And now the past had taken form in the shape of a blade aimed at her child.
Lisa's hands dropped from her face, her gaze steeling with resolve.
She had once been known by another name. A name she'd buried. A name her enemies still feared.
But Kalisa didn't know that name.
She had never told her. Never shared the truth about who she really was, or what she had done before trading combat boots for nursing scrubs. She had kept Kalisa innocent. Or at least, she had tried.
But now innocence had become a luxury Kalisa could no longer afford.
Lisa rose slowly, gripping the sword as she stood, feeling its familiar weight settle in her palm. Her fingers curled tightly around the hilt.
Lisa said quietly, "You were never supposed to carry my burden, baby girl… but I fear I've left you unarmed in a war you don't understand."
The urge to go to her, hold her, and tell her everything surged in Lisa's heart. But she held back. Not tonight. Not while her hands trembled and her past bled into her future.
She would wait, just a little longer. Wait until the truth could protect her daughter instead of breaking her.
But one thing was certain now.
She could no longer pretend. The lie of a peaceful life was over.
And if the Swordsman came through her door, Lisa would be ready.
Not as the mother her daughter knew.
But as the warrior she used to be.