Chapter 7 Freedom
Anna's POV
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said flatly.
Serena’s smile didn’t falter. If anything, it deepened, like my denial was the exact answer she had been waiting for.
“Good,” she said softly, folding her hands on the desk. “If you had accepted so easily, I would’ve questioned whether you were truly trained.”
I tilted my head, studying her calmness. “I still don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Her lips curved again, but this time, there was a flicker of amusement in her eyes.
Without another word, she pulled a thin brown file from the chair beside her and placed it on the desk between us.
The weight of it hit the table with a soft thud.
Serena flipped it open. My eyes followed her hands even though I wanted to look away.
Inside were papers, photos, seals. Names I knew. Places I had been.
A life I had buried so deep, no one in Iron Fortress could have guessed it.
Her manicured finger tapped the header at the top of the first page. “Black Widow Operation,” she read out. Her voice was smooth, but her eyes were sharp, testing. “You work for them. Your codeword is Eagle.”
I exhaled slowly, the air leaving me like I’d been holding my breath for hours.
So this wasn’t some cruel game. She was real. The agency was still watching.
I leaned back in my chair. “Then get me out of here.”
Serena didn’t even blink. “We can’t. Not yet. Breaking you out could blow your cover.”
“My cover?” I snapped, my voice colder than I intended. “My cover was destroyed the moment that bastard accused me of attempted murder.”
Her smile thinned. “We’ll handle that. In a way that won’t raise suspicion. Your cover will change, but you must be patient.”
The word scraped against my nerves like metal grinding on stone.
“Patient?” I pushed the chair back and stood, my fists clenching at my sides.
“Patience is a luxury I can’t afford in a place like this.”
I turned away from her.
“Anna,” she called after me, but I didn’t look back.
The door clanged shut behind me, and the officer standing outside lifted an eyebrow.
“You can take me back to my cell,” I instructed coolly.
The officer scoffed. “You don’t tell me what to do here.”
I hissed under my breath, brushing past him. I was done listening to his arrogant disposition.
The word patient still rang in my head like a curse.
I didn’t want to wait. I didn’t want to sit quietly in a cage and pretend I was helpless.
As I walked back down the corridor, my mind shifted to one person: Tilda.
If anyone here had leverage strong enough to turn the tide, it was her, or should I say, it was her mysterious boss: Xavier.
Maybe I could use her to make Xavier get me out of here.
The thought carried me until I reached the holding cells again.
But something was different.
A tall man stood there, broad shoulders outlined beneath a dark coat.
His presence filled the space in a way that made the officers keep their distance.
I froze, narrowing my eyes. Could this be Xavier?
He turned just as I stepped closer. His gaze caught mine.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
“Anna,” I said cautiously.
His mouth tugged into something that wasn’t quite a smile.
“Today is your lucky day, Anna. Xavier has decided to set all the inmates with Tilda free.”
My eyes widened before I could stop myself.
I glanced past him to the cell. The girls were pouring out, their faces bright with disbelief, their eyes lit up like they had just glimpsed the sky after years underground.
Relief and joy crackled between them, but all I felt was cold suspicion.
I swallowed hard and forced the words out. “Thank you, Mr. Xavier.”
The man chuckled under his breath, shaking his head.
“I’m not Xavier.” His gaze sharpened. “I’m Lucas, Xavier’s second-in-command.”
He studied me for a beat before adding, “Do you need anything, Anna?”
The weight of the question pressed against me.
Something about his tone told me that “anything” wasn’t limited to food or clothes.
I shook my head quickly. “No. I don’t need anything.”
He nodded once, satisfied, and his expression softened into a small, fleeting smile.
“Then consider yourself fortunate.”
"Thank you," I said as I just stepped aside, giving him space, and without waiting for further words, I turned on my heel.
The officers along the corridor stared openly as I strode past them.
One of them muttered, “You’re lucky.” Another whistled low, shaking his head.
I ignored them all. Their words no longer had weight in my ears.
All that mattered was that I was free to go.
I was allowed to go out of the prison, dressed like a normal human.
My eyes swept across the crowded streets, every face, every corner.
Was he out here?
Xavier.
I didn’t even know what I expected.
A figure leaning against a car, cigar glowing in the dusk? Men in suits waiting to take me away?
But there was nothing. Just strangers moving through their ordinary lives, paying no mind to the girl who had just walked out of the iron gates of hell.
I exhaled, forcing the tension from my shoulders.
Fine. If Xavier wanted to remain a ghost, let him. I had other things to do.
Raising my hand, I flagged down a yellow cab. It slowed down, the driver leaning across the seat to shove the door open.
“Where to?”
“Southgate,” I said, sliding in. My voice was flat, even, like I wasn’t about to step into another kind of storm.
My plan was simple, go straight to my Foster parent's house, grab my stuff and find somewhere else to lay low until I figure out what to do.
When the cab dropped me off, the sight of the familiar car parked in front of the apartment sent a flicker through me.
Patrick and Linda were home. Good. They’d choke on their surprise when they saw me walk in free, alive, unbroken.
A moment I wanted to savour.
But it didn’t happen that way.
The second I stepped inside the living room, I froze.
My gaze snapped to the living room. A man stood there, tall and broad, a rifle cradled in his arms.
His eyes were cold, his finger steady on the trigger.
“Move," he commanded, his voice low and deadly.