Chapter 90: A way out

Chapter 90: Chapter 90: A way out

Her face went completely rigid.

The question was so simple, so direct, that she had nowhere to duck or hide. For a few long seconds, she just stared at him. Then, her lips curled into a thin, bitter line.

"That’s a ridiculous question."

"Why?"

"I spent years working as a paid hitman. I’m sitting in the deepest dungeon the Association owns." She gestured around at the bare steel walls.

"Look around the room. Do I look like someone who gets to be a hero?"

Felix followed her hand, taking in the cold bolts, then brought his gaze right back to her face. "I didn’t ask if the world would let you. I asked if you still wanted it."

The sneer slipped off her mouth. Her eyes dropped to her boots.

"...I don’t know," she whispered.

"That’s fine," Felix said softly.

Her head snapped up, her violet eyes flashing.

"Don’t talk down to me."

"I’m not."

"You don’t have to promise to become a saint by tomorrow morning, and you don’t have to pretend you hate your past. But if you want a different life, the first step is realizing your past doesn’t get to steer the wheel anymore."

Vesper stared at him.

Felix let the silence breathe for a minute, giving her time to process it, before leaning back into the metal chair. "Now, there’s one more piece of business we need to settle."

She let out a slow, dramatic sigh. "There it is. I knew you’d ruin the mood."

"What mood?"

"The one where I almost started thinking you were a decent guy."

Felix gave a dry chuckle, then let his face grow serious. "Why should you work with me, Vesper?"

She blinked, caught off balance. "...What?"

"You heard me."

She looked at him closely, then let out a sharp laugh. "You’re asking me that after that whole speech?"

"Yes."

"How considerate." She crossed her arms tightly over her chest. "Fine. Tell me, Doctor. Why should I bother?"

"Because you have zero other options," Felix said flatly.

Her slight smirk died.

"If you refuse to cooperate, I pull the plug on this trial today," Felix laid it out, his voice steady and cold. "The board is already arguing about whether to put you down. I’m not going to spend months fighting for your file if you sit here playing games."

"And if you try to break out again, it gets a lot uglier."

"What, you’ll send more guards with shields?"

"No," Felix said, looking straight into her eyes. "Because this time, nobody will order a capture."

The vault went dead quiet.

A strained, tight smile crept onto her lips. "You mean they’ll shoot on sight."

"Yes."

"Even if I put my hands up and surrender?"

"Surrendering won’t save you if the order says terminate," Felix replied bluntly. "You broke out once and nearly took off two captains’ heads. You got dragged back in. If you break these doors a second time, the Association won’t gamble on a third round. They’ll send wet-work specialists whose only job is making sure you never reach a courtroom. You know how that works better than anyone in this building."

Vesper looked away, staring at the cold seam of the wall.

Of course she knew. Years in the underworld had taught her the dirty math. The second an asset became too much trouble to manage, the paperwork changed from ’bring them in’ to ’clean the mess up.’

And the killers sent to put a round through her head wouldn’t care that she used to be a little girl who admired hero armor. To them, she would just be another wild dog to put in the dirt.

She turned back to him, her eyes hardening into flint. "So that’s your grand play, huh? Threaten me with a firing squad until I behave?"

"No. I’m laying out the bare facts. What you do with those facts is entirely up to you."

"You think death scares me, Felix?" she spat, leaning in with raw anger in her voice. "I’ve been ready to die since the day I took my first contract. Every target could have had a concealed gun, a hidden bodyguard, or a bomb under the floorboards. I’ve slept with daggers under my mattress and poison pills tucked under my molars. I’ve kicked open doors fully knowing I might never walk back out. Death never stopped me from doing what I wanted. So don’t sit on that stool thinking the word ’execution’ makes my knees shake."

Felix didn’t blink. He let her fiery words echo off the steel plating, waiting three slow seconds before speaking again.

"So you’re really fine ending things as Vesper Cruz, dead alley rat, at twenty-three years old?"

Vesper froze. The air caught right in her throat.

"That’s the legacy you want?" Felix pressed, leaning in until he was in her space. "A hired blade who butchered people for quick cash, died in a gutter, and got summed up in a three-line police report? That’s the ending you’re ready to accept?"

She opened her mouth to snap back, but nothing came out.

"You just told me about a little girl who dreamed of being a hero," Felix continued, his voice dropping low and heavy. "A girl who wanted to stand on the front lines, fight beasts, sit around a camp fire eating rations with friends, and find someone to share a life with."

Her hands gripped her trousers, knuckles turning white.

"You told me that dream died because nobody gave you a hand when you were starving," Felix said. "Fine. But you’re still breathing."

He waved a hand at the empty cell.

"You’re twenty-three. You have insane talent, you’re sharp as a razor, and you’ve done terrible things you can never erase. But you’re alive right now. And for the first time in your life, someone is offering you an exit door that doesn’t end with you running until someone puts a bullet through your spine."

Her chest rose and fell in quick, shallow breaths.

"You can spit on it if you want," Felix said quietly.

"You can tell yourself this filthy cell is the only thing you deserve, and I’ll walk out the door and let the executioners take over. That’s your call. But do not sit there and lie to my face that you don’t have a choice, when the choice is sitting right in front of you."

Silence swallowed the room. The low hum of the dampeners was the only sound left.

Vesper stared at him. She looked for the usual arrogance, the smug look of an Association hero who wanted to look like a savior, or the pity that made her stomach turn. She found none of it.

He wasn’t promising her freedom. He wasn’t promising a clean record or easy forgiveness. He was just offering her a chance to steer her own life and he genuinely seemed to believe she could do it.

He actually thinks I can change.

The realization hit her harder than a punch to the jaw. This man knew every murder on her record, knew she had nearly broken out, and still refused to treat her like a lost cause.

She dropped her head, a dry, helpless laugh bubbling up from her chest. "You really are out of your mind."

"I’ve heard that before."

"No, you’re actually crazy," she said, shaking her head in disbelief. "You have an entire prison full of monsters, and you spent your Saturday morning trying to convince a paid killer she can do better. Do you know how insane that sounds?"

"Completely."

Vesper looked at him for five long seconds. Then, slowly, that dangerous, sharp smirk returned to her lips.

"Fine."

Felix raised a brow. "Fine?"

"I’ll play your little game," she said, leaning back and crossing her legs. "Don’t get the wrong idea, though, Doctor. It’s not because I think I’m going to become a hero. It’s not because I regret my past."

"I’m doing it because you’re the first interesting thing in my long ugly life."

Felix’s lips twitched. "That’s an awful reason."

Her grin grew wider, showing sharp teeth.

"Good. Ask the next question before I change my mind."

Felix studied her for a beat, then gave a firm nod. "Alright. Let’s do a real one." He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "In all your years taking contracts... did you ever turn one down?"

Vesper’s grin stayed, but she didn’t fire back an answer right away. She looked at the wall, running through her memories.

"Once," she said.

Felix waited quietly.

"And I ended up killing the client who gave it to me."

Felix’s face didn’t budge. "Why?"

Her expression turned frosty. "Because he ordered me to put a needle in a kid who hadn’t done a single damn thing to anyone."

The words hung in the chilly air. He just watched her, letting her finish the story on her own terms.

She let out a soft breath. "I didn’t save the target. The kid died anyway, the client just hired a cheaper crew the next day. I only put my needle through the client’s throat because the bastard sent two enforcers to jump me in an alley after I walked away."

"So you refused the hit, but you didn’t stick around to protect the target."

"No. That wasn’t my business."

"Alright," Felix said simply.

She blinked, waiting for the lecture. When nothing came, she let out a quiet chuckle.

For the next twenty minutes, the conversation kept rolling. They talked about the crews she had worked with, the contracts she took, and how she reacted when a job turned into a bloodbath.

Felix never pressed for real names, and he didn’t force her to walk through the gore of every murder.

He focused on how her brain worked: what made her decide someone was dirty, how she weighed trust, and whether she thought taking an order magically freed her from the blame.

Some questions got straight answers. Some got snappy sarcasm. A few were met with long, tense pauses while she stared at the floor. But she stopped trying to turn every sentence into a brawl.

Eventually, Felix tapped the screen of his watch.

"Alright. We’re calling it here for today."

Vesper tilted her head. "Already?"

"We’ve been at this for over three hours."

"And here I was just starting to have fun."

"Truly a tragedy."

"You’re just going to leave me sitting here in the dark?"

Felix stood up, dusting off his pants. "That’s how prison works."

"Your customer service is terrible, Doctor."

"I’ll pass the complaint to the warden," he said dryly, dragging the metal chair back toward the wall.

"Felix."

He paused, glancing over his shoulder.

She looked at him, hesitating for a fraction of a second before that lazy smirk popped back on her face. "Next time you come down here, bring better questions."

"I’ll see what I can do."

"You’d better."

Felix stepped toward the blast door. The sensor read his badge and let out a high-pitched beep.

Before stepping out into the hall, he turned back one last time. "Vesper."

She met his gaze.

"You don’t have to figure out who you want to be today," he told her evenly. "You just have to decide if you want to keep making the exact same mistakes."

Neither spoke for a beat. Then her smirk softened slightly. "Get out of my room, Doctor."

Felix chuckled. "See you next week."

CLUNK. HISSSS.

The heavy titanium hatch rolled shut, locking into place with a dull thud.

Vesper sat alone on the edge of the cot. She stared at the blank steel door for a long time, then leaned her head back against the wall.

"Annoying," she muttered under her breath.

She had spent years training herself never to think about tomorrow. The future was for rich people: people with soft beds, full bellies, and guards at the gate who actually believed they would live to grow old.

She had learned to survive by thinking in jobs, targets, clear angles, and escape routes. Big dreams were for dumb children. She had buried hers a long time ago.

Or at least, she thought she had.

She lifted her hands, staring at her pale fingers under the dim yellow light. They were totally still.

No tremors, no nervous twitching.

The memory of that shiny hero armor from her childhood flashed through her mind again. The big smile, the clean badge, the crowd of dirty alley kids shouting questions, arguing about who was going to be the strongest. She remembered how badly she had wanted to be like him.

She let out a dry, breathy laugh. "An assassin who wanted to be a hero. What a bad joke."

The words sounded hollow, even to her own ears.

She looked back at the closed vault door. Felix Valerius was a frustrating, confusing man.

And what bugged her the most was that he had actually listened to her without laughing.

A tiny, faint smile touched the corner of her lips. She kicked off her slippers, swung her legs up onto the thin mattress, and lay back with her hands behind her head.

"Fine, Felix," she whispered into the dim room.

"Let’s see how far this little game of yours goes."

She was actually looking forward to the next visit.

Her jaw clenched in sudden frustration.

It was because of that ridiculous healing aura of his. That quiet, soothing warmth that leaked into the room every time he sat down, making the tension drop out of her shoulders and making everything feel stupidly optimistic.

*Dammit.*

That irritated her more than anything else.