The farmhouse sat still under the grey press of weekend rain. Curtains were drawn, and gates were fortified. Drones circled the perimeter in quiet cycles like trained falcons, and biometric scanners pulsed at every access point. The entire estate was a fortress, a ghost on paper, much like the woman it was built to protect.
Sabrina had slept for three hours.
Not out of weakness but survival.
When she woke, it was to the low beep of a security recalibration code being accepted. She reached for her bracelet-comm on instinct. Another full system sweep. She'd ordered it before collapsing. Typical.
She moved through the long hallway barefoot, steps silent on the polished blackwood. Her reflection caught in the hallway mirror — hair tousled, eyes sharper than rested ones should be. She looked like someone who didn't trust dreams.
Lisette nodded without speaking in the kitchen and passed her a nutrient shake. The twins were asleep. Sabrina kissed both their foreheads, tucked in tight under thick knit blankets, and felt the weight return to her chest.
By mid-morning, she was dressed in a fitted black tank and leggings. She had no makeup, no pretense, and she was the Sab the world never saw.
She descended into the lower floor gym. The lighting here was minimal — motion-based, touch-responsive. She entered.
Nia was already there, her hair braided tight, her hoodie peeled off, and her stance centered like a soldier waiting for her command.
Sabrina paused at the door. "How long you been here?"
"Hour and a half," Nia said with a smirk. "Long enough to hope you'd show."
Sabrina chuckled and stepped onto the mat. "I need the sweat. And the silence."
They squared off.
It wasn't the kind of sparring meant for finesse. It was a breath for breath, strike for strike. Both women had trained one under the military and the other under systems not recognized by regular militaries. Every movement held intent; every dodge mirrored history. Sabrina swept low, and Nia countered with a shoulder block. Nia pivoted high, but Sabrina ducked and rolled, then cracked a clean palm hit to her sternum.
Grunts echoed off the walls. No music. No timers. Just instinct and grit.
"Still faster than me," Nia said, panting. "Barely."
"You always let me win," Sabrina replied, sweat slicking her back.
They dropped to the mat side by side, breathing hard.
Silence stretched until Nia broke it. "You know what today is?"
Sabrina looked up at the ceiling.
"Three weeks since the letter arrived," Nia continued.
Sabrina sat upright slowly.
"You never opened it," Nia said gently.
"I wasn't ready."
"Are you now?"
Sabrina was quiet for a long moment. Then: "Tonight. We'll read it tonight."
The evening came slowly, shadows crawling across the floorboards like secrets resurfacing.
The twins were asleep, and the farmhouse was silent but alert. Outside, motion sensors swept the orchard. Inside, Nia brewed tea.
Sabrina sat at the glass desk in her private study, staring at the envelope.
She hadn't touched it in three years. It had lived in a vault, fingerprint-locked. Unmarked save for her name, written in bold letters, she recognized too well.
Leo's handwriting.
She opened it with surgical precision.
Inside: a photo. Folded once. Glossy. It's slightly worn at the edges because it is tossed back and forth.
The twins—Julian and Jasmine—were taken last month. She remembers the place: the Marina Park, which they wanted to visit.
She gasped.
Nia moved beside her quickly. "Sab?"
Sabrina held up the back of the photo.
Scrawled in neat block letters: Come back home. Or at least reach out to me. One month
Then, a signature.
Not one.
All of them.
Zay. Leo. Dante. Malik. But fake! except one
Sabrina's fingers trembled.
But it was Leo's handwriting. She knew it, which meant they hadn't all signed it. He forged their signatures, typical of him, which meant he had found her.
Not all of them knew.
Nia leaned forward, reading her expression perfectly. "This was always going to happen."
"He traced me," Sabrina whispered. "He didn't tell them. Not yet."
"What now?"
Sabrina stared at the photo. Her heart pounded like it remembered betrayal and birth at the same time.
"I don't know," she whispered.
But her eyes hardened.
And Nia, standing beside her, already calculating exit plans and defense routes, said, "Then we prepare."