Separate Orbits
In the weeks that followed their promotions, Stiles and Hadrian found themselves pulled into two completely different worlds.
Because it was peak election season, Mr. Harold was constantly moving. He was a man hunted by a wolfpack—his opponents weren't just a single political party, but a massive, shifting coalition of corrupt tech magnates, rival syndicates, and desperate politicians who would stop at nothing to tear him down. To keep him alive, Hadrian had to become a ghost, traveling under heavy armor from city to city, barely sleeping.
Stiles and Hadrian rarely saw each other anymore. When they did manage to cross paths in the brief, frantic moments at the HSS transit hubs, it was only long enough for a firm nod, a quick grip of the shoulder, and a quiet, "Stay safe out there."
While Hadrian was in the eye of the public storm, Stiles was assigned to the shadows. Her mission was absolute secrecy: keep Ethan Harold alive, hidden, and entirely out of the crosshairs of his father's countless enemies.
The Harold safehouse was a massive, secluded estate tucked deep into the countryside, surrounded by biometric gates and high-frequency jamming fields. It was a fortress, but to Ethan Harold, it was a gilded cage.
"You're standing too close to the window, sir," Stiles said, her voice dropping into its practiced, low register as she stepped into the expansive, sunlit library.
Ethan turned around slowly. He was around Stiles's age, with his father's sharp features but eyes that carried a heavy, exhausting weariness. He was wearing a simple sweater, holding a book he clearly wasn't reading.
"The glass is reinforced ballistic polymer, Styles," Ethan said, a faint, humorless smile touching his lips. "Even if an opponent's sniper found this place, they'd just chip the paint. But fine." He stepped back into the shadows of the room.
Stiles adjusted the tactical vest beneath her jacket. Over the past few days, she had quickly realized that protecting Ethan wasn't just about scanning for physical threats; it was about managing the suffocating reality of his isolation. Because his sisters were safely overseas, Ethan bore the brunt of their father's dangerous legacy alone. He couldn't go to university, he couldn't see friends, and he couldn't leave the perimeter without an armored escort.
"Does my father ever call you directly?" Ethan asked suddenly, leaning against a mahogany desk.
"No, sir. All directives come through the Assistant Director or Hadrian," Stiles replied smoothly.
Ethan let out a quiet sigh, looking out the window toward the heavy treeline. "Figures. The election is a month away. He doesn't have time to be a father right now. He barely has time to be a person." He paused, looking at Stiles's bandaged forehead, which was finally healing. "He told me what you did for him. Taking the hit in that rigged car. I... I never got to thank you properly for keeping him alive."
Stiles felt a strange tighten in her chest. Looking at Ethan, she didn't just see a high-value asset. She saw the loneliness of an orphan—a feeling she knew all too well from her own childhood before Aunt Melissa found her. Ethan had a father, yes, but for all intents and purposes, he was entirely abandoned to this empty mansion.
"I was just doing my duty, Mr. Ethan," Stiles said softly, letting a bit of genuine empathy slip into her tone. "Your father is fighting to change things. My job is to ensure he has a family to come back to when the smoke clears."
Ethan stared at her for a moment, surprised by the depth in the young bodyguard's voice. For the first time since she had arrived, the tension in his shoulders seemed to melt away. "You're different from the other HSS agents, Styles. They usually just bark protocols at me."
"Well," Stiles said, offering a small, disciplined smirk. "We all have our secrets."
As the sun began to set over the fortified estate, casting long shadows across the room, Stiles took her post by the door. Outside, a storm was brewing over the country, with dozens of enemies trying to tear the Harold name to pieces. But inside this quiet cage, a quiet understanding had just formed between the hidden girl and the isolated son.