She's a badass with a good heart, soft but strong. Unapologetic and honest. She's the type of woman you go to war beside - not against. ~ r.h. Sin

Sydney's POV

The kitchen clock thundered with each tick of the second hand. With each passing second, my ears strained to listen for the slightest noise. My eyes watched for the faintest shadow or movement. 13:59:34. Almost 2 pm. They're here. There's no concrete proof of their presence. But the atmosphere has shifted.

I glance at Aaron, home for a long weekend from Georgetown. My parents sit across from each other at the kitchen table. They have no idea what's about to happen.

I set down my fork, "Guys-" they look up at me "-in about twenty seconds, hoods will be thrown over our heads and we'll be taken to a secure location. There I'll explain everything about my time away. Please don't resist and everything will go smoothly."

"What-"

"Just trust me. Please," I plead, letting my nerves show.

Right as I say, a highly trained team carries out exactly what I had announced seconds before.

"Hey! Get your hands off of me!" Aaron orders, "You can't do this."

"Aaron, please," my father chides.

Aaron sounds like he calms down, albeit still pissed. We're walked outside to a waiting vehicle—an older one considering the mustier odor of the exhaust. Once we're all in, I hear the van door slide shut, blocking out the heat from the sun—windowless van. The team is careful to never speak as we drive, but I have an idea of who they might be.

By the lack of outside noise, I'm assuming we're taking mostly back roads. RPM tells me we're travelling between 40-50ish miles per hour. Left turn, right, right, left, right...We're in the city, by the noises outside, direction we've headed, and the time we've been driving. The door slides open and the lack of heat from the sun and sound of boots slapping against concrete tell me we're in a garage and not outside.

"Where are we?" Mom asks, her voice bouncing off the walls.

"By my deductions, the warehouse district," I reply, "Though, probably further from downtown to allow for a little more discretion."

"What's going on?" Dad questions as I hear a door open.

Aaron is seething, "Why has this happened, Sydney? What aren't you telling us?"

"Aaron, just wait a few more minutes and I'll answer all your questions," I state, stifling the lump in my throat.

"No! Things went to shit the day you ran away. Mom and Dad threw themselves into their work and everyone who cared about you, especially me worried about you every second you were gone," Aaron yells, his tone even making me flinch.

"Aaron!" Mom scolds.

"Then you come back with all this shit dressed like some punk wannabe, all stuck up not wanting to talk about your time gone! What'd ya meet a new family who was richer and gave you all that shit and let you get those tattoos?" Aaron continues like Mom never said anything.

"Aaron," Dad warns, his tone icy.

I nod to no one in particular, realizing we'd stopped walking, and the team continues to lead us. We enter an elevator before being led down a hallway—by the acoustics. A door is opened, we're ushered in before the door closes.

We all remove our hoods.

The room is dingy, maybe the size of the master bath at our new house, and lit by a single, bare light bulb. A flimsy table and four mismatched chairs sit in the middle.

"You might want to sit for this," I mumble, not able to look my family in their eyes.

"I'm fine standing," Aaron asserted. I look up to meet his icy gaze and crossed arms.

"Fine," I sigh heavily, "I'll start from the beginning, and answer any questions you guys have at the end, okay?"

"Okay," my parents nod.

"Aaron?"

He scoffs, "Whatever."

"I was kidnapped by an agency that had recruited me," I begin in a grave tone that even causes Aaron's ears to perk up, "The agency is an off the books organization funded by five bored billionaires who came together to try to help restore society." The last part dripping in sarcastic disdain.

Aaron snorts.

"5,000 kids ages 14-18, mostly those in the foster system or of lower class households, were carefully selected. We were brought to an undisclosed location where we underwent initial assessment, four months of grueling group training, another assessment, two months of individual training, final assessments, ranks, and sent out into the field," I dug my hands into my pockets to keep from fidgeting.

"What're you a trained escort?" Aaron snarked, still on the defensive.

I took a deep breath, keeping my gaze trained on the cement floor, "No, I'm...I'm an assassin." I paused to let them soak it in before continuing, "Any threat to society that the police couldn't quite pin, I or a peer took out. I mean, the worst of the worst: murders, rapists, sex traffickers, terrorists, and everything in between. I worked both domestic and international ops."

"How did you get back to us?" my mom asked, tears streaming down her face.

A humorless smile curled onto my lips, "I made myself irreplaceable. In addition to intense physical training and operational skills was a rigourous academic curriculum. Even after training, we continued schooling whenever we weren't offing the monsters that roam the Earth. I've completed all the classes I need to graduate high school consisting almost completely of AP and IB courses. I'm fluent or conversational in a number of languages."

"What about college?" Aaron asks, his voice still cold.

"I don't get a future like that," I reply, barely keeping my voice steady, "But that doesn't mean I can't swing by Georgetown."

"Are you home for good?" Dad asks hesitantly, he already knows the answer.

I shake my head, "I was only able to bargain for a year to 'take care of some business. You won't hear from me again after I go back. Unless I've died."

"Why don't you try to leave?" Aaron demands, angry again, "Did anyone not think to call the fucking police?"

A dry laugh escaped me lips, "The last person that did that had their family killed in front of them. And then we never heard from them again." I took a moment to let the silence hang in the air. Maybe complete honesty wasn't the best method, "Look, coming back was a risk," I turn to look directly at Aaron, "You want to know why I stayed? They paid well. How else do you think Mom was able to get her masters so she could get a better job? How Dad was able to build one of the most successful construction companies in the region in such a short span of time?" my emotions swelled up with each question but I kept my tone flat and direct, "How you guys moved to a bigger house in a safer area? How you got a new heart?"

"Well, we never heard from you," Aaron crossed his arms, "We were worried. You almost killed mom and dad with stress."

I took a deep breath to collect myself before continuing, "You really think the fucking psychopaths that kidnapped a bunch of children would let us write home? Besides, I don't think we'd have much to talk about. And I don't think you'd enjoy hearing about my life updates."

Aaron huffs, "So what? There's nothing we can do? They can just take my baby sister and everything is supposed to be ok?"

An incredulous scoff leaves me lips, "If you're all ok and safe, than I'm ok. I'd do it all again in a heartbeat if it meant you got a new heart and everything you want in life. Unfortunately the big five are also aware of that."