12. Beneath the Mask

Anastasiya Van Houten

His answer settled bitterly in the room like a dark and heavy cloud.

Something ugly slithered between us like a living thing. We were both wearing air tight masks despite how constricting it was for us to breathe, despite the fact that the mask dug into our faces, scarring the flesh beneath.

"What do you mean?" I asked tentatively, a true part of me was really scared to hear his answer. Was he giving up his façade already? Had he found out?

His taut and broad back twitched as he palmed the door. But he wasn't debating his next move—no, he was calculating. Weighing his options. Waiting for me to slip up, just as he had been since the moment I opened my eyes in this unfamiliar body.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he turned fully to face me. His lips parted, and when he spoke, his voice was calm, measured, like a man retelling a story he had rehearsed a hundred times before.

"You were attacked," he said, his gaze locking onto mine as his fist tightened in anger. "A rogue agent—someone with a personal vendetta against me. She wanted to get to me, and when she couldn't, she turned her obsession toward you."

I didn't blink. Didn't let my expression falter.

Malcolm took a slow step forward, his hands sliding into the pockets of his perfectly tailored suit, the picture of composed grief. "I tried to save you, Val. I swear I did. But I was too late."

He exhaled, shaking his head as if recalling a painful memory. "In the end, both of you fell off the cliff. You hit the rocks on the way down before the water carried you away. We searched for hours before finally finding you, unconscious, barely breathing. It was a miracle you survived. You were really lucky to have survived Val. "

Luck??

A miracle.

I nearly scoffed.

I wanted to laugh in his face, to call him out on his twisted lie.

He was good, I'd give him that.

Twisting the story to make me look like I was obsessed with him. Painting me out to be the bad guy.

Perfect Narrative.

But I knew better.

I knew exactly what had happened that day.

Because I had been there.

I had seen the terror in Valencia's eyes when Malcolm pointed the gun at her, when he used her to bargain.

And I had watched as he pulled the trigger without a single moment of hesitation.

Malcolm Reece had tried to kill her—kill me.

And now, he was standing before me, spinning a story where he was the desperate lover, the grieving fiancé who had tried—and failed—to save the woman he loved.

It was almost poetic, really.

If I weren't so disgusted, I might have been impressed by his performance.

I swallowed down the bitterness rising in my throat and forced myself to stay in character. To play the part.

"Who was she?" I asked, my voice quiet filled with surprise and fear"The woman who attacked me?"

Malcolm's gaze flickered, just for a second.

It was brief, so brief that most people wouldn't have noticed. But I did.

"She's dead," he said simply. "The trauma from the fall was too much. She didn't survive."

Something cold curled in my gut.

"Dead?" I echoed.

He nodded, stepping closer to the bed. "She was dangerous, Val. She was obsessed, unhinged. But she can't hurt you anymore. You're safe now."

Dead...

If I was alive in Valencia’s body then that meant Valencia’s soul was in my body which meant she was..

Dead.

"You're safe with me, Val" He reached out for me again, grabbing my hands into his warm and calloused palm." I don't want to overwhelm you so please don't ask any more questions."

Safe.

Another word I wanted to laugh at.

Nothing about this situation was safe.

My mind kept running at a hundred miles per minute. Valencia... Was she truly dead? Was my body at the bottom of some ravine with her soul stuck in it while I occupied her place in this twisted nightmare?

How was this possible?

How did I wake up in her body?

And why?

"Fight for us both, Anastasiya "

"Val?" Malcom whispered but it sounded more like a question. I turned back to him, my eyes searching his face like I needed confirmation.. reassurance.

I forced my fingers to tighten slightly around the blanket, as though clinging to it for comfort. "I feel..I don't—" I hesitated, letting my voice waver just enough. "I don't remember any of this."

Malcolm's expression softened, his lips curving into a look of gentle understanding.

"I know, that's why i don't want to overwhelm you " he murmured. "And I don't want you to stress yourself trying to remember. The doctors said memory loss is normal after experiencing such trauma. Just focus on getting better, okay?"

His hand twitched at his side, like he wanted to reach for me but held himself back at the last moment.

The way he looked at me, the way he spoke to me—as if he was actually mourning, as if he was actually worried.

As if he wasn't the monster that had put me here in the first place.

I swallowed hard, nodding just enough to satisfy him. "Okay."

Malcolm studied me for another moment before finally exhaling. "I should let you rest. You've been through enough."

He reached out, his fingers brushing against my hair in a touch so light it made my skin crawl. "I'll come back soon. Hannah will be right beside you incase you need anything. "

And with that, he turned and walked out of the room, leaving me alone with nothing but my racing thoughts and the steady beeping of the heart monitor beside me.

I barely heard the door click shut before I let my carefully constructed mask drop.

My chest rose and fell, the weight of everything pressing down on me all at once.

I was supposed to be dead.

Valencia took my place.

She said she made a choice. Did she choose for this to happen, for us to switch souls.

She willingly chose to die?

For who? Me?

And if she had died, then how the hell did she speak to me?

My mind spiraled, grasping for any kind of logic, any kind of reason that could explain what had happened.

Was this a cruel trick of fate?

Some cosmic joke at my expense?

Or was it something far worse?

I lifted my hands, staring at the unfamiliar skin, the unfamiliar fingers, the unfamiliar body that I now inhabited.

This wasn't me.

This wasn't my body.

But it was the only one I had now.

Which meant that, for the time being, I had no choice but to play the part.

No matter how much I despised it.

I let out a slow breath, forcing my emotions back down, forcing my mind to settle.

I needed to be smart.

I needed to be careful.

I was in enemy territory, and one wrong move could cost me everything.

For now, I would stay here.

I would gather information.

I would wait.

And when the time was right...

I would find a way to get the answers .