Evan didn't know whether it was the dying pollen or the cold air outside that was causing his sinuses to respond. It was overcast outside, clouds gathering in the airspace to mourn the disappearance of the sun. All the trees stood empty and alone, the fog covering their nakedness and the entirety that was the outside. The temperatures had swiftly decreased from the hot weather they had experienced that day. Not that he was anywhere near surprised. The weather couldn't be trusted to stay in one season.

  The team had arrived three hours ago from the police department. If Evan mentioned the word 'team', he would've been using the term quite loosely. Jordan, Dave and Evan returned to their house without Nathan or Cyan. After George, the man under law enforcement's eye, revealed that he was Nathan's biological father, Cyan stormed out of the interrogation room. Nathan attempted to follow her but Dave stopped him from going after her and did so himself. He came back exactly three and half minutes later with news that he couldn't find her. He didn't know where she had rushed off to.

  Nathan carried a titanic load on his shoulders. His ex-girlfriend's sister had been brutally murdered by a man who claimed to be his father. Evan couldn't imagine what he was going through and that is why he understood it when Nathan stormed out of the interrogation room and disappeared himself. Evan moved himself out of the way, giving him space to leave. What words of comfort would be effective enough to numb his best friend's pain? He was not qualified in such situations. Plus, he didn't think it was necessary. Nathan wouldn't listen to a single word. Evan knew he wouldn't.

  After the eventful day, Dave, Jordan and Evan drove the forty-five minutes back home in silence. It was the longest Evan had his foot on the accelerator, the woods moving in a slow blur. As soon as they arrived at the entrance of their house, the three men were greeted by a string of questions by their teammates who worked from the house, none of which Evan knew how to answer. This resulted in him walking past Preston, William and the girls, throwing himself on their grey couch in the living room.

  "What's his problem?" he heard Harper ask.

  Dave didn't respond but beckoned them to the other couches where Evan was. He asked everyone else to sit down and explained what had transpired at the police station. Evan had zoned out of the conversation when Dave began the narration. His mind began to think of important locations Nathan would've visited if he had a bad day. His mother's grave was usually the first place he'd go but he knew Nathan wouldn't go there at this time. Sometimes, he went to the Organisation to clear his head. But Evan knew that he wasn't there either.

  Nathan needed time. Cyan too. Time would mend their hearts.

  Evan laughed internally. He didn't even believe that himself. His older brother passed when he was five and he still felt the pain every waking day. Imanuel died peacefully, in his sleep after a long battle with bronchial cancer. He spent his last days travelling, helping charity organisations dealing with his condition and spending time with his friends. He managed to disallow death from controlling him. Evan loved that for him.

  It still didn't stop him from understanding Cyan's pain, though. Death of a sibling. Some part of you died with your sibling, leaving you emotionally vulnerable and alone. Maybe, that is why he held onto Nathan so much. That he was his second chance at being a brother.

  "Evan!"

  "Huh?" he responded.

  He didn't know how many times he had been called but based on Harper's expression, he might have been called more than a few times.

  "Are you okay?" she asked.

  Evan slightly nodded.

  "Dave said George gave you something before you left." Harper asked. "What was it?"

  Just as they were about to step out of the interrogation room on their way to their vehicle, George asked Evan to wait. He didn't want to but he did anyway. George pulled out the silk handkerchief that decorated his suit pocket and pushed it across the metal table. Evan stared at it dubiously before he looked back at George.

  "I will understand if he never wants to see me again." George had said. "But perhaps, he can learn more about where he comes from and who he is."

  Because Evan didn't want to stay in that room any longer, he grabbed that handkerchief and stormed out.

  "His legacy is the handkerchief?" Preston asked confusedly when Evan was done repeating what had been said to him. "I don't really follow."

  Evan took it out from his jean's pocket and placed the silk cloth on the table. He opened it up to reveal a small, silver key.

  "A Kwikset key." Preston identified. "Common for opening knob doors. That's a house key."

  "I'm not sure why George would leave this for Nathan." William spoke for the first time. "He has no desire to know him."

  "We don't know that." Aria countered.

  "Are you serious?" Jordan asked incredulously. "He is a criminal. Nathan is Division Expert Chief of an International Organisation. He is not going to want that man in his life."

  "You grew up with your father around, Jay. Nathan did not. You wouldn't know what he wants." Harper challenged.

  "All we are saying is that it doesn't make sense if he ran into his arms." William retorted.

  "Your father's infidelity on your mother was the reason their marriage was ruined and yet you spend more time with him." Aria snapped. "Does any of that make sense?"

  "How the hell do you know that?" William barked.

  "You're not as slick as you think you are." Aria retorted.

  "Guys-’’ Preston started

  "Preston, if you finish that sentence, I'll smack you with my crutch." Aria interjected violently.

  Preston pursued his lips and sunk into the chair he was sitting on.

  "I'm tired of William opening his mouth before he thinks. He walks around here as if no one has feelings." Aria continued angrily.

  "I state facts." William returned.

  "That no one asked you for!" Aria shouted sourly. "Would it kill you to be sensitive?"

  "I don't think I need to remind you that George murdered Cyan's sister. What do you think will happen when Nathan accepts George into his life? It would be the end of that relationship." William replied firmly.

  Aria struggled to sit up on the chair because of her broken ankle but the crutch she threatened to beat Preston with helped lift herself up an inch.

  "Cyan's feelings are suddenly important to you?” Aria asked menacingly low. “Where was that concern when you insulted her every chance you got?"

  "That's not the point." William responded gruffly.

  "Then, what is? Because if it is to tell us the obvious, we know!" Aria yelled.

  "Aria!" Dave called.

  "Nathan and Cyan are somewhere out there heartbroken and we don't know where they are." Aria said sadly. "We don't know what to do."

  "Okay, everybody take a minute." Evan intervened. He stood up from his couch and went over to Aria's side to calm her down.

  He knelt by her side, whispered the words “Be strong”, kissed her on the forehead and returned to his seat.

  "Fighting with one another at a time like this is probably the dumbest thing we've ever done as a team." Evan rebuffed. "Nathan will make his decision. It is our job to support him as his team and most importantly his friend. Cyan needs our support as well. She is a member of this team and we will stand by her. The decision the two of them will make concerning their relationship is their business. We'll focus on ours."

  Everyone in the room agreed.

  "Our job is not finished." Evan continued. "George's men are still out there and we don't know what they are doing."

  "Geroge's men are mercenaries so probably killing people for money." Harper said sardonically.

  "How do we find those guys?" Jordan asked. "Mercenaries are incredibly difficult to trace. That's why they are always hired."

  "It's highly likely that George hired Jan Jalesmycie to carry out his mission the same way he did with the men that kidnapped Lucas. If we find how he contracted Jan Jalesmycie, we can possibly source out how he found the other two." Preston suggested.

  "Don't criminals just find each other? How are we supposed to know how they met?" Jordan asked skeptically.

  "It looks that way but criminals don't just meet." Aria answered. "They communicate."

  "Where are you going with this?" Evan asked.

  "Are you guys familiar with the Dark Web?" Aria asked whilst pulling out her laptop from underneath her seat.

  "Vaguely. I know that it's part of the internet that's hidden unless you're using a certain browser." Harper answered.

  "Correct. It can only be accessed using a browser called Tor. That's where all the shady business deals go down. Including leasing contract killers." Aria explained.

  "So, just like Ebay but more dangerous." William surmised.

  "If you'd like to put it that way then yes." Aria agreed. "Contract killers used to sell their services to the highest bidder back in the 1900s. But with modern technology, mercenaries have their own accounts and profiles on the Dark web. They use pseudonyms for their emails and usernames making them anonymous. They install blockers to deter any traceable advertisements and encrypt their profiles."

  "I've never caught on to the whole encryption thing." Dave confessed.

  "The concept is known as cryptography." Preston began. "Whoever decides to hide their information from any internet user can do so by using mathematical formulas solved only by an algorithm. This will transform plain text into cypher text, a key formulated by the user being the only tool that can decrypt the data."

  "So, you're saying that the owner of the account locks it, preventing anyone from viewing the content. But they have a key, a password, that can be used to unlock the account." Harper deduced.

  "Precisely." Aria answered. "The general make of the website is pretty standard. The name of the service, job descriptions, visual testimonials and contact information. But the individual account details for specific mercenaries are not public. You have to go through the initial stages of the screening to acquire the key that unlocks the private account."

  "What is the name of the website you think George used?" Evan asked.

  "Hire A Killer." Aria responded simply.

  "Classy." Dave replied flatly.

  "If I understand correctly, the only way we can catch this mercenary is if we go through the website to find him." Jordan repeated.

  "Yes." Aria agreed.

  "But you said there was a screening process to see if the one accessing the account is serious. And I'm assuming that it is payment for the service upfront." Jordan responded. "A kind of deposit."

  "Correct and correct." Aria answered. "But I can hack through the encryption. Give me a second."

  Aria narrowed her eyes and began to hit the buttons on her keyboard rapidly. Evan felt a sense of pride. In most cases, Aria's technical skills provided the team most of information they needed. They solved cases because Aria could get to what they couldn't.

  "Hacked their backdoor." Aria announced, eyes still on her laptop.

  "What does that mean?" Harp asked, attempting to keep up with what Aria was doing.

  "She managed to hack the main control of the website." Preston answered.

  "There are so many contract killers here. I can't narrow it down if we have next to zero information about the people we are looking for." Aria complained.

  Dave groaned loudly. He abruptly stood up from the couch and walked over to the kitchen counter. He placed both his elbows on the granite and dropped his head in his palm. Extremely quiet sounds came from him as if he was muttering and mumbling to himself to insanity.

  Evan stared at him. Something about the sound of his voice triggered him. It sounded tired and drained, as if there was an entity holding his shoulders down and he couldn't get back up. His attention wasn't the only one that was caught because he heard the noise of the laptop keys simmer down.

  "What's wrong?" Aria asked Dave.

  Dave remained silent.

  "David." Preston pushed.

  "Jan Jalesmycie is alive." Dave blurted.

  "What do you mean ‘alive'?" Harper asked in confusion.

  "It means that he didn't die on the 17th like everyone was led to believe." Dave muttered.

  "I don't get it. Why were we told that he was shot?" Jordan asked incredulously.

  "That part is true. He was shot but he didn't take his last breath. He went into a coma." Dave explained. "We all thought that he was dead. He suffered a fatal wound. But when he woke up-"

  "The Directors decided to make everyone believe that the killer, who almost destroyed our home, was six feet underground." Harper finished.

  "They were just concerned that telling everyone he was really alive would spread chaos throughout the Organisation so they decided to kill him in the eyes of the public and the Agents to manage the predicament. That way, everyone would move on peacefully and the SSU would be a safe place to be again." Dave recited.

  "What was the real reason?" Evan asked.

  Dave stared at Evan.

  "Why were we lied to?" Evan asked again impatiently.

  "When he woke up, Jan Jalesmycie expressed that he was afraid of being deported back to Poland. Their judicial system isn't kind to international criminals so he begged for a deal. He would tell us everything he knew about who sent him in exchange for some kind of mercy." Dave explained.

  "What did he tell you?" William asked.

  "Director Xavier agreed to the deal and Jan Jalesmycie's word vomit began. He told us that that there was a man named George Campbell burning to get his hands on two, well-known men. He was contacted on a website with instructions under two pictures of Clement James and Thomas Swat with no real back story. He was to assassinate Clement at the Activism Campaign in February and sneak into the Organisation and kill Director Thomas shortly after. He managed to get the job done with Thomas but failed with the Minister.

  There were no threats on the Minister's life after Director Thomas's death so, we relaxed. It was radio silent until Clement's eleven-year-old son was kidnapped three days ago. We knew who it was. That is why the most proficient Division out of the whole Organisation was assigned to the case to find the George character before we had another massacre on our hands." Dave explained.

  "You made us investigate this case when you knew who the killer was this whole time?" Aria asked in frustration. "Why didn't you give us that information to find him? It would’ve been a lot faster."

  Dave remained silent.

  "That would give away that the man we were looking for was Nathan's father." Preston surmised.

  "Had he learned the truth then he wouldn't have taken the case. And even if he was forced to, his head wouldn't be on straight. He is the DEC. He had to remain focused." Dave explained.

  "You prioritized finding this man over what this would do to Nathan. You do understand what this has done to him, right?" Evan asked shaking with anger. "His life has been shaken!"

  "I understand that but-"

  "Do you?" Harper asked sadly. "Because you had this information and you still recruited Cyan to be a part of this team to work this case. She was investigating her own sister's murder and she didn't even know it. Do you have any idea how heartless that sounds?"

  Dave slumped down on the living room couch.

  "It wasn't my call. The Directors really wanted this man found." Dave defended quietly. "I'm really sorry to you all. I didn't have a choice. They told me that if I didn't assign this case to my team, they would find another Supervisor to take over. Permanently. I didn't want anyone, besides me, watching over you so I accepted it. I knew this crap would screw with Nathan's head and that was why I brought in Cyan. I thought she would be able to cool him and make him feel better in ways that only she could.

  This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

  And as far as Nala goes, Cyan deserved to find the truth. She always wanted it. It was just a shame that she had to find out this way."

  "You did the best you could." William said.

  "He's right." Aria agreed. "You were put in a horrible spot."

  "Jan Jalesmycie said that George was specifically searching for expertise, location and experience." Dave said. "That should help narrow the search."

  "It does." Aria replied.

  She began typing on her keyboard, faster, as a person with newfound knowledge would.

  "When it comes to location, George would look for any mercenaries unknown to this country but convenient to get his demands and payments through." Evan said.

  "Russia has the highest number of mercenaries but George wouldn't go there because that is the first place we would look. He would reach out to the smaller countries such as Estonia or Latvia." Preston added.

  "As far as experience is concerned, he would look for someone with twenty years maximum in the game. He wouldn't want any mistakes." William aided.

  “He would also look for someone who lives a very quiet life. That way, nothing is traced back to him.” Jordan added.

  "I think I found them.” Aria announced. "Victor and Magnus Hansen. Two brothers from Denmark. Their account has a bullet stamp signifying that they were booked for a job."

  "Send this information to Conrad." Evan instructed. "He will assign the arrest to a different Division. It will be seen as a conflict of interest if we do it."

  "Sent." Aria responded.

  "Case closed, I guess."

  *****

  Cyan woke up early the next morning before the sun started its daily rotation. Many stays at her grandparents' house engraved that habit in her. She hated it at first. Who wouldn't? Sleeping was just as important as breathing and it was a criminal act to disturb it. However, she learned to appreciate the early mornings. She realised that she loved to start the day before the actual day started.

  She dragged the heavy fleece off of her and took a once over of her old room.

  It was a tiny-sized room, just as she had remembered it, with a small bathroom and a shower. Her chipped wooden dresser sat directly across her bed and on it, were some of her old facial and body products that she had left behind before departing for the Academy. Every summer she visited, she would always find them sitting on her dresser like mahogany apart of the table.

  She still couldn't believe that her mother didn't clear some of her old belongings after all this time, especially, since she used Cyan's old wardrobe as a second pantry for extra groceries.

  Each holiday, she found the strawberry-scented body lotion sitting on her dressing table, collecting dust. Why didn't Cyan just throw it away?

  The thought pushed her out of her bed and she marched all the way to her vanity. She grabbed the bin that was kept underneath it, huddled all her old property into her elbow and shoved it all into the blue trash bin.

  There. That was much better.

  The walls of the room were a mix of light and dark brown wallpapers that Cyan and her younger sister stuck to her walls after her public exams. They also added posters of their favourite stars all over the room. James Bay. American Mouth. Robert Pattinson. Cyan couldn't forget that afternoon even if she tried her hardest. She laughed so hard with her sister that day until her jaw hurt.

  Her feet took her to that very wall of her favourite posters and she ripped them off the wall. She stuffed them into the trash bin with her old lotions and placed the bin at the foot of her bed.

  Every detail about being home reminded her of her sister and she didn’t need the reminder of one of the best days of her life. It was a sharp pain at the core of her heart that she couldn't cure. One she couldn't physically or mentally rip out of her chest. It was a pain that would stay with her forever until she was in her own grave. Perhaps, that was why it took her 6 months to visit her family. She didn't want to feel the burning sensation of the wound again.

  All the mental turmoil exhausted her so Cyan threw herself back onto the unmade bed. She didn't do it graciously resulting in piece of plastic glass hitting her arm. Cyan scrubbed her arm where the blood rushed to and determined to search for what had attacked her. When her palms felt something solid inside her sheets, she picked it up.

  It was her little mirror.

  It was one she always kept above her bed on her headboard such that each time she woke up, she would look at herself and repeat affirmations to every morning.

  "You're smart. You're brave. You're beautiful." she would say to herself. This always lifted her spirits and made the path she had to walk that day brighter. It became habitual after her family relocated from Swaziland to the United Kingdom. They had left their father behind because he didn't want to change with them. He wanted to stay in Mbabane where he knew everything and everyone.

  It didn't change her parents' relationship.

  For a time.

  They were perfectly in sync until the distance became too much to bear with the communication on their father's end being insufficient. Cyan's father was an old head. Technology was a nuisance to him. Anything new. Anything different.

  This affected Cy to a degree because she didn't really know her father. She didn’t remember him after some time which shook her soul. She used running as a means of distracting herself from those thoughts that intruded her mind from time to time.

  Assessing where she was in her life now at twenty-three, all signs pointed to her excelling in everything that she had been doing.

  But digging deep into herself by looking into the little mirror, the young girl who struggled so much growing up stared back at her. The same girl who lost someone valuable at such a young age locked eyes with the young woman who had lost another member of her family. Her crimson braids were all over the place, her eyes red and puffy from all the crying, her right hand throbbing from where she had punched the criminal back at the police station in the face and her feet hurting from running to Euston Street, that was miles away, to catch a bus home.

  She didn't remember which bus she ascended or which route she took to her mother's house. All she remembered was being in her soft embrace and weeping until all that came out were dry tears.

  She remembered confiding in her mother about what had been happening in her life; how Dave approached her asking her to go back to the Organisation, how they investigated the Minister's case, how they found out that George brutally murdered a man named Geoffrey, whose only mistake was being a pawn in George's game and Director Thomas Swat, whose neck was pierced by a bullet released under his orders.

  Lastly, she told Patrice that her daughter's life was taken by a lunatic who was currently held in custody. Nala was only caught in the crossfire.

  Cyan's mother broke down. The tears fell from her eyes but no audible sound came out. She just shivered and began to wash plates that were already spotless.

  From that time, Cyan didn't remember much of what happened until she opened her eyes the next morning.

  "Omari, if you're going to lick that spoon, you might as well finish the vegetables in your plate." Cyan heard her mother scold her brother from the other side of the door.

  "Mama, is Cyan still sleeping?" Omari asked.

  "We don't want to wake her up. She had a really rough day yesterday." Cyan's mother responded.

  "Please, Ma. I'll just peek to see if she's awake." Omari pushed.

  "Okay." Patrice gave in. "Bring that plate here before you go."

  Cyan heard small footsteps hit their wooden floor, travel to the kitchen and move towards Cyan’s bedroom.

  She hadn’t seen her little brother since she arrived home so she quickly lifted herself up from her single bed and opened the door. On the other side stood a twelve-year old boy with a crew cut and inquisitive brown eyes. His skin was so warm and tan that she could see the blood rush to his skin from smiling too much. Cyan couldn’t believe that her baby brother had grown so much. And he wore spectacles now? What other growth spurts had she missed?

  ‘’Cy!’’

  Omari ran to his older sister. Cyan scooped him up and hugged him so tightly that she creased his clothes. She kissed him dearly, telling him how much he had grown and how much she had missed him.

  When she thought that her younger brother needed some air, she put him down and knelt across from him that they were at the same eye level.

  "How are you?" Cyan asked excitedly.

  "I missed you." he said quietly. "Why were you gone for so long?"

  Cyan felt her heart break.

  "I missed you so much more, my love. I'll never leave again, okay? I'm here." Cyan assured Omari.

  "Are you sure?"

  "I've never been more certain of anything in my life. Your big sister is here." she replied.

  She kissed his forehead knowing that she meant every word. She took her brother's hand and they entered the sitting room. She switched on the television and urged Omari to sit down and watch some cartoons whilst she went to the kitchen to see if her mother needed assistance with preparing the breakfast.

  "Morning, Mummy." Cyan greeted.

  "Morning, my baby. How did you sleep?"

  "Like a log. Why didn't you wake me up? I could've made breakfast." Cyan asked.

  "Cyan, please. Sit down." her mother instructed.

  Cyan pushed out a chair from the kitchen table and plonked onto the wood.

  "Sausages and veggies?" she noticed from the remains of Omari's plate in the sink.

  "Hmm." Patrice agreed. "I thought you'd want a nice, hot breakfast after yesterday."

  Cyan's stomach growled as if on cue.

  "Smells good." she replied sheepishly.

  "Don't worry. The food...is...now...ready." her mother said in between breaths as she dished the food into their white plates.

  Her mother carried both plates to the kitchen table where Cyan was seated and placed them on the chipped oak. The smell of fresh eggs in the morning filled her nose and her stomach growled even more. It sunk in that she hadn't ingested anything for the past twenty-four hours. That was why she probably felt weak and drained. She was just glad that the plate in front of her was full of her favourites; carrots, greens, eggs and crisp bacon.

  "You still like your eggs scrambled with charlottes in them?" Patrice asked.

  "Yep." Cyan smiled. "Thank you, Mama."

  Patrice kissed her daughter on her forehead and took a seat across from her daughter. Once she relaxed into the dining room chair, she stretched her hand towards Cyan and she knew what that meant.

  Cyan clasped her hand with her mother's.

  "You're saying grace." Patrice announced.

  They both closed their eyes.

  "For what we are about to eat, may the Lord make us truly thankful. Amen."

  "Amen."

  Cyan suddenly felt a whirlwind of emotions. Praying with her mother instantly calmed her. It consoled her. She remembered the times when her mother prayed on her behalf when she wasn't strong enough to do it on her own. She remembered all the times that her mother used forehead kisses as a means of silencing the racing thoughts in her brain. And all the times that she cooked for her and took care of her.

  Cyan wanted to burst into tears. What if running away from home wasn't the answer? What if being with her family was the cure she needed to numb the pain?

  Being here reminded her of Nala. It reminded her that she couldn't take of care of her and the guilt that entrapped her became too much for her to bear. That was why she left for Cesky Krumlov for a different scenery. If she left all that reminded her of her sister, then she wouldn't feel choked by it all. Life would be worth living.

  At least that was what she thought. She just didn't realise that the more she strayed away, the weaker she grew, the more hurt she felt and the more she abandoned those she loved. In the six months, her brother's growth had streaked and she didn't want to miss any of it anymore.

  Any thought of returning to Prague disappeared with the wind.

  "I'm sorry, Mama."

  Patrice looked worried. "For what, baby?"

  "I'm so sorry, Mum." Cyan wept. "I'm sorry that I just disappeared when Nala died."

  "It's alri-"

  "No, it's not." Cyan sniffed. "It's not alright. I left you here all alone. I won't leave again. Please believe me."

  Cyan's mother smiled at her and gripped her hand firmly.

  "I was not alone. God was here with me." she responded. "You dealt with her loss the best way you could. There is no formula to grieving. And what did I say about worrying about me? That's not your job."

  Cyan nodded.

  "Plus, how can you leave? You have a certain someone here for you." Patrice winked.

  "Ma."

  "Chii?" she asked.

  Usually, when her mother switched to their native language, passion exuded in whatever she said. In this case, she asked what caused Cyan to call on her name in that tone.

  "Did you not hear me?" Cyan asked confusedly. "His father is the reason I'm crying this way."

  "What does that have to do with him?" Patrice asked with cauliflower in between her teeth.

  "I'm not going back to that house." Cyan resolved.

  "Why?"

  "Because I can't." Cyan answered.

  Patrice sighed and Cyan realised that her mother was about to use the soft voice.

  "Cyan. Have you ever heard the saying that goes, 'The sins of the father are not to be laid upon the children.'?" Patrice asked.

  "It's actually the opposite, Ma." Cyan corrected. "The sins of the father are to be laid upon the children. By William Shakespeare."

  "I changed it because the original is stupid." Patrice replied passionately. "It's not Nathan's fault that his father is a disgusting and despicable human being. It's not his fault that Nala is not here today. That young man was brought up in love by his grandparents. That is the Nathan that you should be seeing. Not blaming him for the death of our beautiful girl."

  "I'm not blaming him." Cyan denied.

  "Some part of you is." Patrice contested. "And I can't fault you, honey. But appeal to your heart. He just found out that a man that he has been yearning to know his whole life is a psychopath. How do you think he is feeling?"

  Cyan's mind hadn't travelled that far. Nathan went through mental breakdown because of the man that was absent from his life. Finding out that he was a killer was enough to drive anyone insane. She admitted to herself that she might have been judging Nathan harshly for a mistake he didn't make. And knowing him, he was feeling guilty for a sin he didn't commit.

  And naturally, Cyan felt sad for Nathan.

  Of course, she wasn't being unreasonable by not wanting to see him. Was she?

  She wasn't sure. Perhaps, she had no actual reason to be upset at him. His only crime was being a son of a murderer.

  Cyan understood that she had to go back to that house.

  "I hear you, Mama." Cyan agreed. "I'll go back."

  "Once you're done eating, there is hot water on the stove. Bath quickly. You can find extra clothes in my wardrobe and make sure you look neat." Patrice instructed.

  "Ma, I'm 23." Cyan groaned. “I’m going to dress well anyway."

  Patrice shrugged and continued.

  Cyan focused on her own eggs. She mentally went through her mother's closet to see what would fit her body. She wondered if her mother still had that skirt she had saved for Nala when she was all grown up.

  The weather was quite chilly so maybe she would pair that with some tights underneath the skirt, her mother's oversized cardigan and a jacket over that.

  At least when she went to make her position on the team permanent, she'd look neat.