CHAPTER 101: 101

The hum of the jet engine filled the air steady, low, almost like a lullaby. Nyxella had finally fallen asleep across her mother’s lap, her tiny hand curled into Elisa’s sleeve.

For a long time, silence reigned between both Nix and Elisa. It wasn’t uncomfortable at first but then it began to bite them both. Nix turned his gaze from the clouds and fixed it on her.

"You grew up in the Sorrento household, didn’t you?" he asked, his tone casual but laced with a quiet curiosity.

Elisa looked up, with cautious eyes before responding "Yes."

Nix leaned back, studying her posture the way her shoulders were straight, and her movements precise. "Then you must know a bit of martial arts. The Sorrentos always trained their heirs, even the women."

Her eyes hardened slightly, but she didn’t answer immediately. "No," she said finally, her voice even. "I don’t... I was always sick as a child" she said, narrowing her eyes.

But Nix knew immediately it was a lie, he didn’t just know this but could also feel it in the calm way she said it, and the deliberate stillness of her hands. But he kept calm and didn’t push for any more answers,and with a simple nod he returned his gaze back to the window.

The rest of the flight was drowned in silence. Only the sound of the engines and Nyxella’s soft breathing filled the space.

The moment they landed, Nix stepped out first with his phone in his hand, answering a call that had come in just as the wheels touched ground. "Handle it quietly," he said to the voice on the other end before walking away from the tarmac.

When he turned back, Elisa and the child were already being guided down by one of the attendants.

"Wait here," he said with a low low. "I’ll be back shortly."

And then he disappeared into the terminal crowd.

At first, it seemed normal just travelers moving about, luggage rolling across marble floors, the air heavy with mixed scents of perfume and aviation fuel.

And then she noticed them.

Three men, standing too still for ordinary passengers. One had his hands in his pockets; another pretended to check his watch and the third adjusted his jacket collar twice the same way she’d seen trained bodyguards signal each other.

Her instincts whispered a warning, but she let out a sigh trying to ignore them as Nyxella stirred in her arms, Elisa hugged her closer, murmuring, "It’s okay, baby. Just hold on to mummy."

She tried to walk past, heading toward the main exit but one of the men deliberately stepped into her path, his shoulder colliding with hers hard enough to jolt her.

"Watch it," he said, with a half-smirk. His voice carried mockery, not apology.

Elisa ignored him, tightening her grip on her daughter. But before she could move again, the other two closed in on her in calculated step that boxed her in from both sides.

Her pulse quickened.

"Let me pass," she said,her voice low, and warning.

The first man chuckled. "Relax, lady. We just want to talk. Your friend Mr. Dean seems to have vanished. Maybe he forgot to mention he’s not the only one interested in you."

That was the final spark.

Her blood boiled not from fear, but from the sharp, cold edge of anger.

She gently set Nyxella’s carrier down beside a luggage cart, whispering, "Don’t move, my love."

Then she straightened, her hand going to the back of her head.

In one smooth motion, she pulled the pin from her hair and her hair fell loose over her shoulders, and the faint metallic glint of the pin caught the light.

The first man’s grin faltered. She moved before they did. With a sharp spin and her leg sweeping low the nearest man hit the ground hard, his breath leaving him in a grunt. She pivoted, thrusting the hairpin into the sleeve of the second man’s jacket, twisting his arm backward until he yelped.

The third lunged, pulling a concealed baton, but she sidestepped, grabbed his wrist, and drove her elbow into his ribs. The sound of impact was dull and final.

They weren’t expecting speed or precision. Every move she made was clean, and deliberate like muscle memory.

When one of them tried to grab her from behind, she leaned forward, using his weight to throw him over her shoulder. He landed on his back with a sharp cry, as the wind knocked out of him.

Within seconds, all three were down, groaning, stunned, and struggling to rise.

Elisa exhaled slowly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. Her breathing was steady, controlled by the kind of calm that comes only from training.

She turned, picked up Nyxella, and whispered, "Let’s go." What honestly annoyed her wasn’t the fact that they came after her or her daughter but because they actually tried to harm them because they spotted them with Nix.

"Worthless animals" she scoffed walking toward the exit, but she failed to notice the silent observer that was standing miles away from them. He hadn’t moved an inch since the fight began. His hands were buried deep in his pockets, his expression unreadable, but his eyes sharp and unwavering followed her every motion. The breeze caught the loose strands of his hair as he watched her glide through the aftermath of chaos she’d created.

The men she had taken down were still sprawled across the tiled floor, groaning softly, their humiliation louder than any words could express. No ordinary woman could have done that not with such precision, such control.

Nix’s jaw flexed as he drew in a slow breath, his thoughts a storm beneath his calm facade.

"So you don’t know martial arts, huh?"

His lips curved slightly, not quite a smile, not quite disbelief. Something darker, heavier.

He had seen many things in his life, power, greed, and betrayal but this? Watching Elisa move like a ghost of her own past, her movements clean and practiced, her emotions shuttered behind those calm eyes... it stirred something cold and curious in him.

When she stepped out of the terminal, clutching Nyxella tightly, her expression was composed again as though the last five minutes had been nothing more than a mild inconvenience. She didn’t see him until she reached the curb, scanning the area for their transport.

And then their eyes met.

For a heartbeat, neither spoke. The world seemed to slow down and the sounds of honking taxis, airport chatter, rolling luggage fading into a blur behind them.

Nix tilted his head slightly, his voice low, almost conversational when he finally spoke.

"You told me you didn’t know how to fight."

Elisa froze, clutching her daughter closer. Her throat tightened, but she met his gaze squarely. "I don’t," she said simply.

Nix stepped closer, the faintest smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. "Then I must’ve imagined you throwing a grown man over your shoulder."

"Maybe you did," she replied coldly, brushing past him toward the car. Her tone was steady, but her pulse betrayed her.

He didn’t stop her, but his eyes followed her as she slipped into the backseat, securing Nyxella gently beside her. The driver started the engine, and Nix lingered a moment longer outside before sliding in beside them.

The air inside the car was thick not with words, but with what neither of them dared to say.

Nyxella babbled softly, reaching out for Nix’s hand. He glanced at the little girl, his expression softening just for a second before he looked away, back to Elisa, who sat staring out the window, pretending to be unaffected.

He leaned slightly forward, his voice calm but threaded with something deeper.

"Who exactly are you, Miss Sorrento?"

Elisa’s gaze flickered, her fingers tightening around her child’s small hand.

"Just a mother," she said. "Trying to protect her daughter."

And though her tone was firm, Nix could hear the truth behind it or maybe the fear.

He smiled faintly, turning his attention back to the road ahead.

"Then let’s see how long that truth lasts."

The car rolled forward, headlights slicing through the early evening haze as the city blurred past in streaks of gold and gray. For a moment, silence pressed down again making the atmosphere dense, heavy, and suffocating.

Then Elisa exhaled softly, her voice breaking through it.

"You speak as if you already have your answers, Mr. Dean," she said, not looking at him. "So why ask questions you’ve already judged?"

Nix’s eyes flicked toward her, calm but unreadable.

"Because I like hearing the lies people tell when they think they’re still safe," he said quietly, his tone smooth, almost conversational, yet edged with something deliberate. "It helps me know what they’re willing to protect."

Her jaw tightened. She turned her head slowly, meeting his gaze.

"And what about you?" she asked, her voice low but steady. "Who do you protect, Nix? Or is suspicion the only thing that keeps you alive?"

The corners of his mouth twitched, but his eyes didn’t soften. "Protection and suspicion are two sides of the same coin. You can’t keep what’s yours without one of them."

Elisa gave a faint, humorless laugh and looked back out the window. The reflection of the passing lights danced across her face with soft, fragmented glimmers against the calm of her expression.

"And yet," she murmured, "you still lost more than most men ever will."

That hit him deeper than she could’ve known. His fingers stilled where they’d been tapping lightly on his thigh. The faint smirk faded, and the silence that followed wasn’t just sharp, it was personal.

He didn’t reply. He just leaned back against the seat, eyes fixed on nothing as the city lights flickered over his face, shadowing his expression.

Beside him, Nyxella stirred softly in her sleep, her tiny hand brushing against his arm. For a fleeting moment, something shifted in his eyes not warmth, but the memory of it. Then it was gone again.

Elisa had noticed it but she ignored it.