Chapter 105 Unsolved problems

Chapter 105 Unsolved problems
Seraphina’s POV: 

It had been two weeks. Fourteen days of brutal, silent training sessions that left my body aching and my soul frayed. Each morning, I’d walk into the training room, and each morning, Zero would be there, a silent, immovable pillar of my past. We’d fight, we’d bleed, we’d push each other to the absolute limit, and we’d barely say a word. 

The only sounds were the sharp crack of contact, the ragged gasps for air, and his clipped, clinical commands. "Higher." "Faster." "Your stance is weak."

The silence was the worst part. It was a thick, suffocating blanket, and beneath it, my anger was festering. It was a cold, hard knot in my gut, a constant, simmering rage that was poisoning every moment. I could feel it building with every parry, every dodge, every drop of sweat that stung my eyes.

He pushed me away. The memory was a shard of glass in my heart. The day I turned eighteen, I had walked into his study, full of a naive hope that we could figure out a new path, one where I wasn't just a weapon. I had wanted to see pride in his eyes, maybe even a flicker of fatherly affection. Instead, I had found ice.

"You're an adult now, Sera," he had said, not even looking at me, his gaze fixed on a map spread across his desk. "Our contract is complete. I have nothing more to teach you."

"But we're… we're a family," I had stammered, the words sounding pathetic even to my own ears.

He had finally looked at me then, and the look in his eyes had been colder than any winter I had ever known. "Don't be sentimental," he had sneered, his voice dripping with a condescension that had shattered me. "You were a project. A broken piece of machinery I rebuilt. You're functional now. That's all you ever were. There's nothing more for you here. Get out."

The words had been a physical blow. A project. A piece of machinery. All those years, all the shared meals, the quiet moments of patching up wounds, the gruff, rare praise. It had all been a lie. I wasn't his daughter. I wasn't even his student in the end. I was just a tool he had sharpened and was now discarding. He had left me, alone and adrift in a world I was only equipped to destroy. And now he was back. Acting like he cared. Acting like he was here to help.

Why? The question was a relentless drumbeat in my skull. What was his motive? Why do something nice for me now, when he could be out there, like every other assassin in the world, trying to collect the massive bounty on my head? It made no sense. And the not-knowing was eating me alive.
I stormed into the training room that morning, my body thrumming with a violent, pent-up energy. Zero was already there, as always, stretching with a fluid, predatory grace.

"Let's get to it," I snarled, not even bothering with a stance. I just launched myself at him.

I fought with a fury I hadn't unleashed in years. Every strike was fueled by the memory of his cruel words. Every kick was a rejection of his abandonment. I wasn't just sparring; I was trying to purge him from my soul.

He blocked my first few attacks with an annoying ease, his expression unreadable. 

"You're sloppy," he grunted. "Your anger is making you predictable."

"Fuck predictable!" I screamed, ducking under his arm and aiming a vicious kick at his ribs. He caught my ankle, twisting, and I used the momentum to spin, landing a sharp elbow to his jaw. His head snapped back, and a flicker of something, surprise, maybe crossed his face.

I pressed my advantage, a whirlwind of strikes and kicks, driving him back across the mat. But he was Zero. He was the master. He weathered the storm, his blocks becoming more solid, his counterattacks sharper. He swept my feet out from under me, and I hit the mat with a painful thud.
Before I could even think about getting up, he was on me, his knee pressing into my chest, his hand pinning my wrists above my head. I thrashed beneath him, my rage boiling over.

"Get off me!" I screamed, bucking my hips, trying to dislodge him.

"Control your temper, Sera," he said, his voice low and infuriatingly calm. "It's a weakness."

"Don't you dare tell me about my weaknesses!" I spat, my vision blurring with angry tears. "You don't get to! You don't get to just waltz back into my life after six years, after what you said, after you threw me away like I was nothing!"

He froze, his body going rigid above me. The calm mask was gone, replaced by a raw, unreadable emotion.

"I didn't throw you away," he said, his voice rough.

"Liar!" I screamed, my voice cracking. "You called me a project! A piece of machinery! You said I was never like a daughter to you! You looked at me like I was dirt on your shoe. You broke me, Zero. You broke me, and then you left me to pick up the pieces all by myself!"

I was sobbing now, the words tearing out of me, years of pain and betrayal finally boiling over. "So you tell me," I choked out, my body trembling with the force of my sobs. "You look me in the eye and tell me why. Why are you here? Why now? What do you want from me?”