The edge
What is beyond it?
Chapter 1
My reflection stares back at me—but wait—it's not me anymore. It's her, the one who started all of this. The reason for most of the atrocities I've committed—because of her. She was supposed to be on my side, with the rest of us. It was us against the world until it wasn't. I shake my head, and her reflection disappears back into the abyss. My pitch-black eyes stare back at me again. I'm going to be late if I don't start now. It's turning into a habit, isn't it? I think to myself with a slight smile. I used to be so punctual. I finally will myself to turn away from the mirror and look down at the corpse at my feet.
His bathroom is pretty fancy. It's up to my taste. My phone vibrates in my pocket, diverting my attention from the steam rising from the bathtub. It's Nick. I bring the phone to my ear as I answer, "The mission is successful," I say in a distant voice. I thought it would get easier to cope with killing as I gained more experience, but I've found out it doesn't. It probably never will. He deserves this for what he did to those kids. That thought is the only thing that keeps me sane. I hear sounds of relief and gratitude from the other line.
"Thank you so much, Miss Agnira. It's a pleasure to hear that. Several families and I are really grateful that you brought justice to this. It's nice to see that the government is actually doing something for us. The kids... I know this doesn't bring them back, but I think this helps bring some comfort, knowing that this guy won't be able to abduct kids anymore. Once again, I thank you for your services." His voice is grim as he says this, and I just go through some more formalities before hanging up.
I pull out of the driveway, knowing the police may come at any time to begin their 'search.' The drive is two hours long back to my 'boarding school,' the reason I'm in this field.
I entered my dorm room after reporting to my commanding officer, Captain Anders Barlowe—the one who took me under his wing and into his team after finding me on my first day at the age of seven, bawling my eyes out, hoping she would feel guilty and not leave me here. Well, I guess it was worth a try because, even though it clearly didn't work, she did say she decreased my contract from eleven years to nine years.
It wasn't so bad at first. Mama would always come to visit me every Friday until the visits suddenly stopped when I was thirteen. She warned me that something weird might happen, but I was still unprepared. The food she brought and the warmth she provided once a week were my motivation to get through another week. It was hard at first, but soon I found another motivation—meeting my family again, the family that my mom distanced us from after the divorce. The family that actually fought for me but failed because the government thought it best to give the mom at least one child for closure. Also, because my mom promised the government she would send me to the 'boarding school' to turn out just like her, a weapon.
No one in my family except my father knew about my mom being an agent until just before the divorce. They didn't want her to have any of the children because they believed my mom wasn't in her right mind at that time. Now that I see it, I kinda agree. They actually did fight for me—a truth I found out not long ago, a year ago, to be exact. My family actually wanted me. It was hard to believe at first, but soon I found evidence, proof that they really did care. I wonder how they are right now. Do they remember me? Do my younger siblings still remember me? Do my older siblings still care about me? Did they give up on me?
I have seven siblings. Maybe, just maybe, I can find out what they're up to right now. I remember them being pretty rich; maybe they're in our database. Wait—why haven't I thought of this before? I feel stupid. I can use the database on my next mission and find them. Maybe I could reach out to them. That thought fills me with a spark of hope. My contract ended last week when I turned 16, but... Mom isn't here anymore. Would they still want me back? I lose all hope at that moment.
Okay, so they might not want me back anymore, but... I can still check up on them. I hear a knock on my door just as I'm considering the thought. I check if my knife is still strapped to me. It is. It's dark out, and I don't have any missions. The person knocks harder now, as if they're in a hurry, which makes my heart beat faster. I'm still tired from today's mission. It was six hours long because I also had to interrogate that piece of scum. I could likely handle it if it's a fistfight, but right now, I'm in no mood to wash my sheets. Bloodstains are a pain in the ass. The doorknob twists, and the door opens. I have my guard up, but the person who enters is...
"Julius?" My voice is laced with disbelief as my eyes widen. What is he doing here?
"Sienna." My name is a little raspy on his tongue. I take a look at him, and there's blood all over his black shirt, staining it a darker colour.
I met Julius when I was 5 or 6 at a gala my family was invited to. His father and my father are quite close. We both ran around the gala with cake-stuffed faces. That's how my father found us, and he took us both into a room with Julius's father and gave us a long lecture on why our public image is so significant. We're more rivals than friends. We push each other past our limits, make each other better. After I joined the 'school,' I met Julius on a mission when I was 12 and he was 13. He was on a mission too because his parents actually wanted him to join the 'school.' Nobody except his family knows that he goes here, though. We kept in contact in secret.
"What happened?" I ask in the calmest voice I can manage and rummage through my cupboard for the medical kit. I found it on the bottom row of the second cabinet.
Julius winces as he removes his jacket and takes a seat, revealing a deep gash running down his side. The blood is still fresh, oozing slowly from the wound. My heart skips a beat as I take in the extent of the injury.
He leans against the wall, trying to keep his balance as I kneel down with the medical kit. "You look like hell," I mutter, trying to keep my voice steady. I've seen worse, but the fact that it's Julius standing here, bleeding out in my room, throws me off.
"Aww, you actually care about me," Julius teases, though the pain is still clear on his face.
I smirk. "We've been rivals for years, Julius. Of course, I care—as long as I'm not the reason you're like this."
"I had a run-in with some unfriendly faces," Julius replies, his voice strained.
"You should've gone to the medics, not here. This is risky.", I reply curtly, focusing on cleaning the wound.
He grimaces as I press a gauze pad against his side. "I couldn't. This needs to stay off the radar. No official reports, no questions. Just fix me up, and I'll be out of your hair."
I raise an eyebrow at him but don't push further. Julius is a mystery even on his best days. If he doesn't want to talk, there's no forcing it. "Hold still," I order, as I begin stitching up the wound. The room is silent, save for the occasional hiss of pain that escapes his lips. I try to work quickly, the tension in the air thickening with every passing minute.
"You're pretty good at this," Julius says after a while, his tone almost teasing despite the pain.
"Practice makes progress," I reply dryly. "What happened out there, Julius? This doesn't look like a random fight."
His expression darkens, and for a moment, I think he's going to shut me out again. But then he sighs, "It's complicated. The mission went south, and I got caught in the crossfire. There's more to it, but it's not safe to talk about here."
I finish the last stitch and start wrapping his torso in bandages.
Julius meets my eyes, and for a moment, I see something flicker there—gratitude, maybe, or something deeper. "Thanks, Sienna. I owe you one."
"Just stay alive long enough to pay me back," I respond, trying to lighten the mood.
He cracks a small smile before standing up, wincing slightly as he moves. "I should go before anyone notices I'm here."
I nod, understanding the urgency. "Don't die," I add as he heads toward the door.
He pauses, his hand on the doorknob, and looks back at me. "You too, Sienna."
After Julius leaves, the silence in my room feels heavier than usual. I move to my window, pushing the curtains aside just enough to peer outside. The moon hangs low in the sky, casting long shadows across the courtyard. My mind is still racing from the encounter, and I know sleep will evade me for a while longer.
With Julius's visit still fresh in my mind, I decided to keep myself occupied. I retrieve a set of files from my desk drawer, each one containing information on potential targets, upcoming missions, and classified operations. Flipping through the pages, I focus on anything that might distract me from the swirling thoughts in my head.
One file catches my attention—a name I haven't seen in a long time. Elliot Sinclair. My oldest brother. I can't help the way my heart skips a beat as I read his name on the document. The government must have flagged him for something, but the specifics aren't clear from the initial summary. I read on, curiosity and dread gnawing at me.
Elliot was always the protective one, the sibling who made sure I was okay when things got tough. He taught me how to play chess, and we'd spend hours at the kitchen table, him patiently explaining strategies while I struggled to keep up. He was always better than me, but that only pushed me to improve. I wonder if he's still the same, if he still plays chess, if he even thinks about me.
The file doesn't give me much, just that Elliot is currently involved in some kind of corporate work—something with high security clearances. That alone raises red flags. Corporate jobs with high security clearances often mean connections to military contracts, classified technology, or worse. The government must think he's involved in something more sinister, but I can't see my brother that way.
My heart tightens in my chest as I think about what could have led him down this path. Is he in trouble? Is he working with dangerous people? I don't know, but the idea of my brother being targeted by the same government that trained me sends a chill down my spine.
I glance at the door, half-expecting someone to knock again, but the hallway outside remains quiet. I set the file aside, deciding to keep an eye on it. If Elliot's in trouble, I need to know more before I can decide what to do. I can't afford to make any rash decisions, not when so much is at stake.
I return to my bed, but sleep still refuses to come. My mind wanders to my other siblings. Mateo, the second oldest, who would be twenty-one now and always wanted to be a doctor, and Lydia, who would be nineteen now and dreamed of becoming a lawyer. I wonder if they've followed their dreams or if life has taken them down a different path. And James and Joshua, the seventeen-year-old twins—do they still bicker as much as they used to? Louis, my younger twin brother, how is he? And Ellery, my fourteen-year-old sister—do they remember me? Do they think about the sister who was taken away all those years ago?
Guilt washes over me as I realise how little I know about their lives. I've been so focused on my missions, on surviving, that I've neglected the very people who fought for me, who cared about me. It's a bitter pill to swallow, but I can't dwell on it for too long. The reality of my situation is that I can't reach out to them, not without risking their safety.
Instead, I have to keep moving forward, keep doing what I've been trained to do. The missions, the targets, the endless cycle of violence—it's all I know now. But deep down, a part of me longs for something more, for a chance to reconnect with the family I lost.
The next morning, I'm up early, the weight of the previous night still heavy on my shoulders. I head to the training grounds, needing to clear my mind. The cool morning air bites at my skin as I step outside, but I welcome the sharpness of it. It keeps me grounded, focused.
The training grounds are mostly empty, save for a few early risers like myself. I make my way to the obstacle course, a familiar routine that I can do without thinking. The physical exertion helps to clear my mind, and for a while, I lose myself in the rhythm of it. Climb, jump, run, repeat.
As I move through the course, I catch a glimpse of Captain Barlowe watching from a distance. He's been my mentor for years, the one who saw potential in me when I was just a scared kid trying to survive. His presence is both comforting and unsettling. I know he's proud of what I've become, but I also know he's seen what this life does to people. He's seen the toll it takes.
I finished the course, my breathing heavy but steady. Captain Barlowe approaches, his expression unreadable.
"You're up early," he comments, his voice gruff.
"Couldn't sleep," I reply, wiping sweat from my brow. "Figured I'd get some training in."
He nods, his gaze sharp as he studies me. "Something on your mind?"
I hesitate, unsure of how much to share. Barlowe is my commanding officer, but he's also the closest thing I have to a father figure now. Still, there are some things I can't bring myself to tell him, not yet.
"Just thinking about my next mission," I say, keeping my tone neutral. "I want to be prepared."
Barlowe doesn't press further, but I can tell he knows there's more to it. He always does. "Make sure you're focused," he advises. "We've got some big operations coming up, and I need you at your best."
I nod, understanding the gravity of his words. The missions are only going to get more dangerous, and I can't afford to let my guard down. Not for a second.
As I leave the training grounds, I can't shake the feeling that something is coming—something big. Julius's visit, the file on Elliot, Captain Barlowe's warning—it all feels connected somehow, like pieces of a puzzle I'm not yet able to see clearly.
But whatever it is, I know I need to be ready. Because in this world, the edge is always closer than you think, and one wrong move can send you plummeting into the abyss.