Nobody's Daughter

Aaliyah

Aaliyah turned onto her side again, frustration bubbling up as she adjusted the thin blanket over her wedding dress. No matter how she positioned herself, the couch seemed to reject her, and the fabric of the gown felt more suffocating with each passing minute. She tugged at the beaded bodice, wishing for something simpler, something that didn’t cling so tightly to her skin.

The room was silent, save for the faint creak of the old floorboards as Cruz shifted slightly against the wall. Aaliyah could feel the woman’s presence, steady and grounded, even in the dim light. Cruz hadn’t said much since they arrived, and Aaliyah suspected she wouldn’t unless prompted. That thought made Aaliyah smile faintly—Cruz seemed to operate on a need-to-know basis, her words as economical as her movements.

But Aaliyah couldn’t sleep. Her thoughts churned restlessly, tugging her back to the uncertainty of the next step. She lay flat on her back and stared at the ceiling before turning her head toward Cruz, who sat against the wall with her weapon balanced across her lap.

“You’re really good at staying quiet,” Aaliyah said, her voice low but clear. “But I can’t stop thinking.”

Cruz’s gaze flicked toward her briefly. “About what?”

“Everything. What happens next.” Aaliyah pushed herself up to sit cross-legged on the couch, her fingers tracing absent patterns on the blanket. “We can’t stay here forever. What happens when your contact comes through?”

Cruz studied her for a moment, as though deciding whether to engage. “If my contact comes through,” she corrected, her voice measured. “There’s no guarantee.”

Aaliyah’s stomach tightened at the subtle shift in Cruz’s tone. “But he’s your contact. You said he owed you.”

“He does,” Cruz replied, leaning her head back against the wall. “But people like him—people in this world—they don’t always deliver. Even when they owe you.”

Aaliyah frowned. “What kind of person are we talking about here? Is he dangerous?”

Cruz’s lips twitched slightly, the faintest hint of a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Everyone’s dangerous if you push them hard enough.”

That wasn’t the reassurance Aaliyah had been hoping for. “What do you mean, ‘people in this world’? What kind of world are we stepping into?”

Cruz shifted slightly, her expression as calm as ever. “The kind where the rules don’t apply. Where you do what you have to, and you don’t ask questions.”

Aaliyah felt a chill crawl up her spine. She had been so focused on escaping her old life that she hadn’t truly considered what her new life might look like. Cruz made it sound like they were stepping into a void, a place where survival was the only currency.

“So this contact of yours…” Aaliyah hesitated. “What does he want in return?”

Cruz’s jaw tightened slightly, and for a moment, she didn’t answer. Then, in her typical pragmatic tone, she said, “Money. Leverage. Trust. Usually a mix of all three.”

“And what if we don’t have any of that?”

“Then I figure something out,” Cruz said simply.

Aaliyah wasn’t sure whether to feel reassured or terrified by the answer. Cruz made it sound so easy, but Aaliyah could sense the weight of what she wasn’t saying—the risks, the costs, the dangers they were walking into.

“Why are you doing this?” Aaliyah asked softly, her voice almost lost in the quiet.

Cruz glanced at her, her dark eyes steady and unreadable. “I told you. I’m keeping you safe.”

“That’s not what I mean.” Aaliyah leaned forward slightly, her curiosity getting the better of her. “You could have just followed the mission. Taken me back. This is more than just keeping me safe.”

Cruz exhaled quietly, the faintest crack in her stoic armor. “Maybe it is,” she admitted. “But right now, all that matters is getting you out.”

Aaliyah nodded slowly, her chest tightening with the weight of everything Cruz wasn’t saying. She wanted to press further, to understand why Cruz had chosen to help her when it would have been easier to walk away. But she also knew better than to push. Cruz wasn’t the type to open up easily, and Aaliyah didn’t want to risk breaking whatever fragile bond was forming between them.

Instead, she lay back down, pulling the blanket up to her chin and staring at the faint patterns of moonlight on the ceiling.

“You think he’ll come through for us?” Aaliyah asked after a moment.

Cruz didn’t hesitate. “He will.”

“How can you be so sure?”

Cruz’s voice was steady, unwavering. “Because he knows what I’m capable of if he doesn’t.”

Aaliyah blinked, caught off guard by the quiet intensity of Cruz’s words. She didn’t doubt for a second that Cruz meant it, and that thought—while unsettling—also brought a strange sense of comfort. Cruz would do whatever it took to keep her safe.

“Okay,” Aaliyah said softly, letting her eyes flutter closed. “I’ll try to sleep now.”

“Good,” Cruz replied, her voice firm but calm. “You’ll need it.”

The sound of Cruz shifting slightly against the wall filled the quiet, a steady rhythm that lulled Aaliyah closer to sleep. Her last thoughts were of the woman keeping watch, a fortress against the chaos that lay beyond the walls.

Cruz

Cruz leaned back against the wall, the edge of a floorboard pressing uncomfortably into her shoulder blade. She shifted slightly, trying to distribute her weight, but the floor was as unforgiving as she was stubborn. The couch would have been a better option—softer, warmer—but letting Aaliyah convince her to take it would have set the wrong tone. She wasn’t here for comfort. She was here to make sure they both survived the night.

Her weapon rested across her lap, the weight of it familiar and grounding. The safehouse was secure, but Cruz’s instincts didn’t allow her to relax. Years of training had wired her to anticipate the worst, to stay alert even when things seemed calm. Especially then.

From the couch, Aaliyah shifted again, the faint rustling of her wedding dress breaking the silence. Cruz had expected her to fall asleep quickly after the day they’d had, but instead, the girl seemed restless. Cruz didn’t blame her. She might not be tossing and turning like Aaliyah, but her own thoughts were far from settled.

All her life, she had followed orders. She had been a cog in the machine, efficient and dependable, fulfilling her missions no matter the cost. It was a life that had suited her, or so she thought. Until now. Until this mission.

Until her.

“Do you think it’s going to be this hard the whole time?” Aaliyah’s voice broke through Cruz’s thoughts, soft but clear. She wasn’t looking at Cruz, her gaze fixed on the ceiling.

Cruz’s brows knitted together briefly. “Define ‘hard.’”

“This,” Aaliyah said, gesturing vaguely at the room around them. “The running. The hiding. The… not knowing what comes next.”

“It doesn’t get easier,” Cruz said, her voice even. “But you learn to deal with it.”

Aaliyah rolled onto her side, pulling the thin blanket closer. “You make it sound like it’s just a skill you pick up. Like riding a bike.”

“It’s not that simple,” Cruz admitted, her tone softening slightly. “But it’s necessary.”

Silence stretched between them, and Cruz thought the conversation was over. But then Aaliyah spoke again, her voice quieter now. “Did you ever think about what you’d be doing if you weren’t… this?”

Cruz glanced at her, caught off guard by the question. “This?”

“You know.” Aaliyah waved a hand. “The military, the missions, the saving runaway brides.”

Cruz let out a low breath, leaning her head back against the wall. “I stopped thinking about what-ifs a long time ago.”

Aaliyah’s gaze lingered on her for a moment, her expression unreadable. “You never wondered? Not even once?”

“Not in a way that mattered,” Cruz said, her voice clipped. The truth was, she had wondered. In the quiet moments, when the adrenaline faded and the mission was done, she had thought about what her life might have been if she hadn’t chosen this path. But those thoughts had always felt dangerous, like a crack in the armor she couldn’t afford.

“Why not?” Aaliyah asked.

Cruz turned her head slightly to look at her. “Because it doesn’t change anything. You can’t undo the choices you’ve made.”

Aaliyah nodded slowly, her fingers playing with the edge of the blanket. “But you can make new ones.”

Cruz didn’t respond. The words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. She had already made a new choice—one that had brought her here, sitting on a cold floor in a safehouse with a green-eyed bride who had somehow managed to shatter Cruz’s sense of purpose without even trying.

“This contact of yours,” Aaliyah said after a moment, shifting the conversation. “Do you trust him?”

“No,” Cruz said bluntly. “But I trust his self-interest.”

Aaliyah frowned. “That doesn’t sound very reassuring.”

“It’s the best leverage you can have,” Cruz explained. “He’ll help us because it benefits him. People like that are predictable. Trustworthy people aren’t.”

Aaliyah was quiet for a long moment, her eyes drifting toward the window. “What do we do if he doesn’t come through?”

“He will,” Cruz said firmly, though the edge of doubt gnawed at her. “But if he doesn’t, we’ll figure it out.”

“You say that like it’s easy,” Aaliyah murmured.

“It’s not,” Cruz admitted. “But we don’t have a choice.”

Aaliyah nodded, her expression softening as her eyelids began to droop. “You make it sound so simple.”

Cruz watched as Aaliyah shifted again, curling into the couch as the day’s exhaustion finally began to take hold. Her breathing slowed, evening out into a soft rhythm that filled the quiet room. Cruz let her eyes linger for a moment, the faint moonlight catching on the delicate lines of Aaliyah’s face.

She was too young for this. Too young to have her life dictated by others, to be forced into decisions that weren’t her own. Cruz had seen it before—people crushed under the weight of expectations they hadn’t chosen. But this time, she hadn’t been able to look away.

Why her? The thought echoed in Cruz’s mind as she shifted her position again, the hard floor reminding her of her earlier stubbornness. She could have taken the couch, could have allowed herself a few hours of comfort. But she knew better. Comfort was a liability, and she couldn’t afford liabilities.

Still, as she watched Aaliyah sleep, Cruz couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d already made herself vulnerable. Not because she was sitting on the floor instead of the couch, but because of the choice she had made back in Palma. The choice to protect Aaliyah, to go rogue, to turn her back on everything she’d been trained to do.

For the first time, Cruz wasn’t following orders. And the uncertainty of it—of her own motivations, of what came next—was more unsettling than any mission she’d ever faced.

Cruz adjusted her grip on her weapon, her eyes flicking toward the door as her resolve hardened. Whatever doubts she had, they would have to wait. For now, her focus was on keeping Aaliyah safe.

The sleep could come later. If it came at all.