Masks Off
Angela couldn’t move.
She stood frozen, her back pressed to the cool tiled wall, staring at Charles like he’d turned into something inhuman.
Her heart had stopped. Her breath was trapped in her lungs, her chest aching from holding it.
Charles’s voice cut through the silence.
“I’m gonna ask again, Angela,” Charles said softly, his tone almost conversational—like they were back at Quantico, like he wasn’t a monster in a suit standing in front of her. “What are you doing here?”
Angela’s lips parted. It took everything in her to make her throat work. “H–h–how did you…”
Charles took a slow step forward. His shoes made no sound against the tile. “Did you really think you could outsmart me?”
Her stomach twisted violently. She wanted to shrink into herself, to disappear.
He smirked—not the warm, mentorly grin she’d once known. This one was cold and predatory. “I’ll give you credit, your appearance was convincing. If I didn’t know you, I’d have believed you were someone else entirely. But you see, I’ve learned to listen to my instincts.”
He tilted his head slightly, studying her like a specimen under glass.
“And my instincts… they told me something was off. Three ‘new’ members of the Veil, suddenly appearing after we lost three of our own?” He let out a low, humorless chuckle. “I’d be a fool not to question that.”
Angela’s pulse pounded so hard it felt like it was shaking her bones.
“They could’ve easily gotten away with it,” Charles continued, his voice steady, detached. “You could’ve gotten away with it, but something kept pushing me to dig.”
She tried to speak, but no words came out.
“So you know what I did?” he asked.
Angela shook her head in tiny, jerky movements.
Charles casually leaned against the doorframe, like they were just chatting over coffee. “I searched your names on the Internet. Dominic Valente, Elias Fortier, Andrea De La Cruz. Nothing came up.” He raised his eyebrows mockingly. “Now, that alone wasn’t a red flag. Plenty of Veil members are so powerful they’ve practically erased themselves from existence. They're basically ghosts with bank accounts.”
He paused, letting the silence press down like a weight.
“But I wasn’t satisfied.”
He straightened, taking another step toward her.
“So I went to the security team.” His grin sharpened. “And I combed through every single one of the four hundred members of the Gilded Veil. And do you know what I found?”
Angela couldn’t answer. She couldn’t breathe.
He let the words drop like stones. “No Andrea De La Cruz. No Dominic Valenté. No Elias Fortier. You don’t exist here.”
Angela’s knees weakened. She gripped the edge of the sink to keep herself standing.
Charles let out a low, humorless chuckle. “You forget, Angela—I made you. I taught you everything you know. Every trick. Every lie. Every mask. And you thought you could use them against me?”
He took another step forward.
She backed away instinctively, her spine pressing against the cold tile wall.
“I thought,” he said, his voice calm but laced with venom, “that when I assigned you to this mission, I told you to report every single one of the Grecos’ moves to me. So what’s this? What are you doing here with them?” His eyes narrowed, sharp as blades. “Do you work for them now?”
Angela’s chest heaved.
Her voice came out small, trembling. “I—I know what you did.”
Charles stopped mid-step.
His head tilted slightly, like a predator assessing its prey. “What was that?”
Angela’s nails dug into her palms, her tears threatening to spill. “You killed them.”
His brows furrowed.
“You killed my parents,” she said, louder now, her voice shaking as the tears streamed down her face. “You killed my brother… and my sisters. You murdered my entire family.”
Charles’ expression didn’t shift for a long moment. Then, finally, he exhaled through his nose, as if some unspoken weight had been acknowledged.
“So,” he said softly, “you know.”
Her lips trembled. “Was it because of this? Was it because they found out what goes on in this place?”
He didn’t answer at first.
“Yes,” he said finally, his tone cold.
Angela flinched like he’d hit her.
“I really liked your father,” Charles said quietly. “And your mother too. They were truly good people. Politicians who wanted actual change, and you see… that’s actually a rare trait in this corrupt world that we live in. They just happened to stumble upon things they weren’t supposed to. So they had to be taken care of.”
“YOU’RE A MONSTER!” she screamed, her voice raw.
Charles chuckled—and the chuckle grew into a laugh. A deep, bitter laugh that filled the room and made her skin crawl.
Angela stared at him like he’d gone mad.
He wiped at the corner of his eye, smirking. “Angela… The Gilded Veil isn’t some country club for the rich. It’s power incarnate. These people control governments. They dictate economies. They don’t just play the game—they own the board. And do you seriously think, in that little mind of yours, that you can beat them?”
Her jaw clenched, her chest heaving. “But the children—”
“What about them?” Charles asked, his voice devoid of emotion.
Angela’s face twisted. “What about them? WHAT ABOUT THEM?!”
She surged forward, her voice breaking. “These children have been ripped from their homes, from their families—and they’re being passed around, used, defiled by these—these perverts!” Her voice cracked. “How can you just stand there and be a part of this?!”
Charles tilted his head slightly, giving her a look like she just asked something stupid. “Angela… those children weren’t ripped from loving homes. They slipped through the cracks. They were plucked from orphanages. Abandoned. Forgotten.” He spread his hands slightly, as if explaining a business transaction. “No one wanted them. And it's not as if anyone's gonna come looking for them either. But now, instead of rotting away in some underfunded institution, they’ve found… purpose.”
Angela’s stomach turned violently. “Purpose?!” she spat. “YOU CALL THIS PURPOSE?!”
Charles simply stared at her, not bothering to reply.
She shook her head, sobbing. “When I found out you might’ve been responsible for my family’s murder, I didn’t want to believe it. Because the Charles I knew would never do something like that. The Charles who raised me, who trained me—he taught me how to put others first. How to fight for the greater good. How to stand up for what’s right no matter the cost. He taught me to be better than this!”
She wiped her face with her hands, her whole body trembling.
“But the moment I saw you with him,” she choked, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Laughing. Talking like you were best friends… all of that came crashing down.”
Charles stared at her, silent.
Her tear-filled eyes never left his.
Finally, he sighed.
“To be honest, Angela… I pity you.”
Her heart stopped.
“You’ve been through so much in the twenty four years that you lived. You lost everything and I pitied you cause it wasn't your fault. That’s why I took you in. That’s why I trained you. But that pity…” He shook his head. “has come to an end.”
He reached into his jacket and when his hand came back out, it held a gun.
Angela’s heart stopped beating. Her blood went cold and goosebumps erupted all over her body in that instant.
He leveled the gun at her forehead.
“I’m sorry,” Charles said, his tone soft and almost kind. “But you know too much. I can’t let you live.”
Angela’s breath hitched. Her heart slammed against her ribs.
Charles tilted his head slightly, like a father scolding a child.
“Goodbye, Angela.”
And then he added, almost wistfully, “I always saw you as the daughter I never had.”
The barrel pressed cold against her skin.
And Charles pulled the trigger.