Gabriel and Rielle were dead.

Alara, in a coma.

Maren, shell-shocked and healing from his grievous injuries.

Keyla, astounded and pent-up with guilt.

And she? She, Tania de Allura, had withdrawn into her shell like a coward, unable to face everyone.

My fault, my fault, my fault.

Spears of regret pierced his heart as he watched Alara Berrera lying unconscious on the bed of the infirmary of the Agency.

"She needs another surgery and a blood transfusion too. Maren, your blood is compatible with hers. Can you do it? It's ok if you don't want to," the nurse had added as an afterthought the day before.

There were no afterthoughts on his part and he had no hesitations either. His answer was more of a reflex than a decision- it did not require any thought process and it was as instinctual as him protecting himself in a fight. He had just agreed immediately.

Of course he had. It wasn't just because of his guilt; he cared deeply for her and he wouldn't be surprised if that care went beyond the platonic level. He missed his friend, missed her sass, missed her being her vivacious self, missed her grunting and swearing at him whenever they worked out together.

He missed her.

When he had found her in a life-or-death situation, his world had spun and would have obliterated if the doctors didn't assure him that there was a 20% chance of her surviving.

"She's strong, Maren. She's in her prime. She can do it."

Even now, he was still holding on to that 20% chance protectively and with such a ferocity that even the Grim Reaper would have to ask his permission to take Alara Berrera from this earth.

Unless Alara told him to let her go, that she was in deep pain, that she wanted to die, he would never let her go.

He couldn't help but blame himself for being unable to prevent her from being caught in such a stressful life-and-death situation. Despite them planning everything fastidiously- even to the most seemingly nugatory detail, things had gone unexpectedly awry. After all, hadn't Keyla and Tania had assured him that there would be a maximum of six guards guarding the third floor and four on the first?

So how on Earth did the situation on the main floor get so out of hand? It made no sense as Alara, Keyla, Tania, Rielle and Gabe had single-handedly defended and fought against dozens of guards- thrice the number that was reported to them!

Maren entrusted Tania and Keyla with his life and there was not one bit of dubiety that they were immensely loyal to him and the Agency. There was no way that they would willingly betray them- so who was the mole?

As he suspired heavily, he reluctantly left Alara's side to ponder about the possible probabilities that had led to such a vitriolic incident.

It is unlikely to be Tania or Keyla, Maren thought, tapping his pen in a repetitive rhythm as he paced around his office. If it were them, why would they be so pugnacious and combative with the guards? Surely, if they were in cahoots, they would have teamed up with them and rid of Alara for she would be a key witness to their treachery?

No, it can't be them- it makes no sense for either of them to deceive us, let alone operate as a double-agent.

Becoming increasingly frustrated with each passing moment as he loathed suspecting his comrades, Maren slammed his fist on the desk as he laboured over wondering who had lied to him, causing such a staggering death toll and sheer pandemonium. When he found the traitor, he would not be lenient or even grant them clemency.

They will pay for this. For Gabe's and Rielle's deaths. For cunningly using our trust as just a mere pawn in their game as if it meant nothing to them.

Three days had passed by since the calamitous incident happened. Maren was still unlike his former self; he was often vexed and refused food for he felt that he himself alone was to be blamed for most of the happenings.

It's not his fault. It's never his fault. It's mine. I must tell him the truth. I played a role in this catastrophe; my cowardice caused Rielle and Gabriel to pass away. It's my fault.

Bracing herself for the end of their friendship, for her to be punished severely, she went to Maren's office with small steps and had never felt as meek as she was when she entered his room.

Her heart beat rapidly when she saw him sleeping. For a moment she considered leaving and abandoning the notion of confessing to him, but the moment she saw small puncture wounds on his hand that indicated he donated blood, she mustered up her courage and decided to wake him up.

"Maren." She poked the sleeping Maren, his head laying on his desk while he drooled in his sleep. "Maren," after tickling his neck, he awoke.

"Alar- oh, Keyla. Hey." His face flushed when he realised that he had called her the wrong name. "What's up?"

"I... I have to tell you something. You may detest me for it."

"Nothing you do can ever make me hate you." Maren sat up straight and smiled at her, rubbing his eyes while he stifled a yawn. "What is it?"

As she looked into his trusting eyes, she cried, and told him the truth.

Thumbing the petals of the cyclamen flower, Maren smiled, smelling its sweet scent, imagining Illeria's amber eyes lighting up with joy when she saw the rose pink flowers. It had not been on his to-do list, but the moment he saw the flowers, how their petals were heart-shaped, he knew it was perfect for his love. A bouquet of the cyclamen flowers made it seem like countless tiny hearts, and he hoped that Illeria could see and feel his love for her through them.

I am going to request Valesque to accept Illeria after this mission ends. If he rejects my request, I will leave and build a life with my Leria. If he were still in the early stage of wooing Illeria, such cheesy thoughts would have made him blush and the thought of leaving his father-figure and the Agency would have made his heart fill with hesitancy and trepidation, but now, five months into his relationship with Leria, he was certain that he had found the mystical 'The One'.

The supposed missing piece of his soul? The supposed partner that was sent and created by the Heavens? He had found her- and that person was Illeria Tristitia. The only love of his life.

He was determined to live well with her, and enjoy every moment with Illeria, and when the appropriate time came, he would make her Illeria Tristitia Santos.

My fiance. At that, Maren blushed, his cheeks dotted with spots of bright pink as he pictured her in a wedding gown that flaunted her curves and tall figure. His heart raced when his mind delved deeper into his imagination, and he was no longer looking at the flowers; he was in another realm, another place with his darling, his hands on Illeria's hips as he drew her in close for a deep kiss.

"Get a grip, Santos." Maren chided himself, and hurried into the entrance of the small cottage. It was all he could afford- he had practically begged Valesque for the quaint cottage for his love had desired to live in, and Maren had used his excuse as his posing as a rich businessman to obtain a cottage.

There was nothing he would not do for her.

Holding the bouquet of cyclamen in his hands, he opened the door and walked into his home, his smile bright and his heart light.

"Leria, mi amour, I am home," he thrilled, his hands at the back, wanting to surprise his Leria with the flowers. "My love, where are you?"

His voice teasing, he headed into the living room, but it did not take long for him to feel a strong sense of dread when he heard sounds of scuffling and groans coming from the nearby office room. His heart heavy as a stone, he tentatively walked towards the office, heart racing.

People say that you know when your life is about to change. People say that before you actually witness one of the most tragic scenes in your life, you just know.

Your gut knows before you do.

He was mere steps away from opening the office door when his love appeared, face flushed, lips swollen, amber eyes bright with an emotion that he cannot name.

He couldn't help but observe her behaviour and outward appearance; her chest was heaving, her face was flushed, she smelled of a foreign scent- was that a man's scent? A man's cologne?

"What the hell, Illeria? Leria... why is there another man cologne on you?"

Her eyes looked everywhere but at him. "Nothing, Maren. Nothing."

Unable to tolerate the pain he was in, he removed his right hand from the flowers, his left hand securing it and hiding it from plain sight as he used his free hand to grab her chin and force her to meet his eyes.

He had never seen such guilt in those amber eyes before.

He wished he didn't ever have to.

"Leria, did you... cheat on me?"

Her eyes betrayed nothing but guilt. Her silence too was deafening.

Every kiss, every touch, every sweet nothing that had once lit him up, that had once made him soar with joy, came crashing down at lightning speed, at a speed that disabled his ability to process and understand what was going on.

The mere thought of Leria in another man's arms crushed him.

Unable to be in the same room with her, he let go of her, ready to go when he felt something wet on his thumb. He looked at it, and gasped when he saw a red spot.

Blood.

Consternation plastered Leria's beautiful features, twisting into one of sheer hideousness when the truth struck him.

She had not cheated him. She had done something worse.

That was when he realised somewhat belatedly that her hands were at her back too. Knowing that she was not holding a bouquet of flowers, he forced her to turn around, and found her smooth hands holding a bloodied blade where crimson beads of blood were rhythmically dripping down from it in a ghastly fashion.

His stomach lurched, horrified at the gruesome sight. Bewildered, he asked, "Illeria, what the hell? Did you pretend to cheat on me..."

He saw her plan then. Get him mad with anger, giving her enough time to dispose of the corpse, and when he came back- because she knew he would- she'll beg for his forgiveness, a forgiveness that he would have given for he loved her.

But never again.

"Who did you kill?" He thundered, barging into the office room after he shoved her away.

Yet she raced after him, standing in front of the corpse, and her actions were evident that she wanted him to leave and not see the dead body.

"Did you murder somebody? Why?"

"I didn't, Maren. Just go."

"Illeria, you have never hidden things from me before. Don't you start now." Unlike his posture, his tone was a steady one. "Let me see the body. Now."

Though she flinched from his taciturn tone, she stood her ground determinedly. Knowing that there was nothing he could say to make her leave, he marched towards her and grabbed her hand, ignoring her constant stream of pleas.

Ignoring the obvious heartbreak in them.

The corpse was an extremely familiar one. One that triggered joyous memories of two young juvenile boys running around hysterically, cheering boisterously.

Paint on the older boy's face.

The older boy grabbing his little brother's pants and cheekily pulling them down.

"You killed my brother." The bouquet of cyclamen fell into his brother's pool of blood, red fury painting over the pink of his pure love for her.

What do you do when the woman you love, the woman who you hoped to spend a lifetime together murders your brother?

He jolted from the memory, furious that the unbidden memory trespassed his threshold of serenity. It must have been triggered from Keyla's words.

He still couldn't wrap his mind around it. How could it be?

Everything happened in such a flash that he could barely remember what had happened. But what he did know was that Tan and Keyla had fled the room first, selfishly leaving Alara, Rielle and Gabriel to fend for themselves.

Gabriel.

That name- his friend's name, someone who he had valued highly- hurt him deeply. He had only ever thought of Gabriel with feelings of goodwill, but after Gabriel's treasonous act, those feelings were diminished.

All of the people, it ended up being his right-hand-man to be revealed as the man who had betrayed them all.

I have to tell Valesque. The moment the thought crossed his mind, Maren headed swiftly to Valesque's office. It was duty to report this, to have justice served, even if it meant that it would bring Gabriel harm.

It turned out he needn't too though, for Valesque was truly all-knowing.

"Gabriel is the traitor."

"You, you know?" stuttered an astounded Maren. "Am I the last to know?"

"Maybe," countered Valesque nonchalantly, as if what he just told him was not the biggest news of the century.

"What will you do?"

"Jonek is the one who gave us the opportunity to attack. It ended disastrously and in such a chaotic fashion. If it hadn't ended in that way, I would not have suspected him. But now... I need to know if he has anything to do with this."

"No. It can't be- he won't ever think of hurting Alara. Why would he lie and put his goddaughter in danger?"

"I believe he never considered that variable. Besides, we have concrete evidence and proof- it's incontrovertible. I know you don't want this to happen, and neither do I." Valesque grabbed him by his shoulders. "Maren, you are better than this. Don't let your feelings for the girl cloud your judgement. Both of us have a duty to have justice served. I trust you to execute the right decision."

Though Maren nodded, he felt like he was being strangled by all of these darn responsibilities. Closing his eyes, Maren quietly hoped for moments of tranquility so that he could escape through this hell later through them. I need quiet sooner or later. I will treasure it when I have it... If I never get them, I am bound to go mad.