The dust motes danced in the stale air of their fourth "permanent" residence this month.
Boxes sat like jagged monuments to a life lived in transit, their edges frayed from the constant tape and tear of relocation.
"Melissa, are you done unpacking?" Sunny's voice drifted from the hallway, weary but persistent.
Melissa didn't look up from her suitcase.
"You should be asking Ariana that question, Sunny."
From the bedroom, a muffled groan emerged. "Nope," Ariana's voice rang out, sharp with defiance. "Don't even think about it."
Sunny leaned against the doorframe, her face a mask of practiced stoicism.
"Look, I know it's difficult to adjust. But we have to make the best of it."
"Aren't you sick and tired of this?" Ariana appeared in the doorway, a crumpled shirt in her hand.
Her eyes were bright with a frustration that had been simmering since they crossed the last border.
"Three countries in thirty days. Why can't we just live a normal life?"
"Come on," Melissa said softly, her hands finally stilling. "No need to make a fuss."
"How are you so calm?" Ariana demanded, her voice cracking.
Melissa gave a small, tired shrug. "You just have to get used to it."
Sunny moved toward Ariana, placing a steadying hand on her shoulder.
The weight of their reality settled in the room, heavier than any moving crate.
"We have to remember that our lives are in danger. There are people who would do anything to have us erased from the earth. We need to lay low. Even if it means faking our own deaths—again."
Melissa sat down on the edge of her bed, watching her sisters-in-arms.
To the world, they were three young women sharing an apartment. To the ghosts of their past, they were loose threads waiting to be pulled.
Sunny was once Chen Yanyan. At nine years old, she had been a political pawn, kidnapped to leverage her father's presidency.
When her father chose the position over his daughter, the betrayal left a scar deeper than any physical wound.
Now, at twenty-four, she was a woman running from a father who suddenly decided he wanted his "legacy" back.
Then there was Ariana, once Adeline. At seven, she had been a ghost in her own home, invisible to a family obsessed with their empire.
One afternoon at the park was all it took for the French underworld to snatch her, eventually selling her into the hands of a Mexican cartel.
At twenty-three, she lived in the agonizing silence of wondering if anyone had ever bothered to look for her.
And Melissa—once Natasha—carried the darkest weight of all. Her Mexican heritage was a blur of trauma; a father lost to the bottle, a mother who traded affection for silk and cigarettes.
They had sold her to a notorious syndicate for pocket change and a pack of smokes.
But Melissa hadn't left empty-handed. She carried a secret, a piece of leverage her family was desperate to reclaim.
Fate hadn't just brought them together; it had forged them into a shield.
"I want to go to a club," Ariana suddenly whined, the tension breaking into a childish plea.
"Melissa, please tell her we need to unpack first," Sunny sighed.
"Oh, come on, Sunny," Melissa smirked. "She can hear you perfectly fine."
"We can unpack tomorrow!" Ariana argued, her eyes lighting up.
"There's plenty of time for cardboard. Not enough for dancing."
"And there's plenty of time for clubs," Sunny countered. "The city isn't going anywhere."
Melissa looked at Ariana's desperate need for a moment of normalcy and felt a pang of pity. She stood up.
"Actually... I want to go tonight."
Both Sunny and Ariana froze. "What?" they asked in unison.
"What changed your mind?" Sunny asked, suspicious.
"It's a fun idea to stretch our wings," Melissa said, already heading for her vanity.
"We should see the city before we start looking for jobs on Monday. It's Sunday night, 9:50. We still have time to find a place that fits."
"Argh, fine!" Sunny threw up her hands. "But I am not going to a strip club."
The club was a neon sanctuary, vibrating with the pulse of bass and the scent of expensive perfume.
Ariana looked around, mesmerized. "Wow. This place is magnificent."
"One of us needs to stay sober," Sunny warned, her eyes scanning the exits.
"You guys have fun," Melissa said, leaning against the bar. "I'm not in the mood to drink tonight. I'll keep watch."
"You're the best!" Ariana squeezed Melissa's arm before disappearing into the sea of bodies on the dance floor.
Melissa turned to Sunny, who was staring off into the distance.
"What's on your mind? You seem lost."
"Hmm? N-nothing," Sunny replied, her voice hitching.
Melissa followed Sunny's gaze. Across the VIP lounge sat a woman in a crimson dress.
She was an island of elegance in a sea of chaos, her beauty tempered by a mysterious, somber aura.
"Go to her," Melissa nudged her.
"What? I... I can't... she..." Sunny's composure crumbled into stutters.
"Relax. If you like her, go talk to her. The worst she can say is no."
"You think she'll reject me?"
"Only one way to find out. Just say hi."
Sunny straightened her jacket and walked toward the lady in red. "
Hey... are you alright?"
The woman turned, her gaze a cold, sharp blade.
"I'm sorry if I'm bothering you," Sunny rushed on, "but you looked... gloomy. I just wanted to check if everything was okay."
The woman sat in silence, resting her temple against her hand, watching Sunny with a chilling intensity.
"Would you like to talk about it?" Sunny persisted.
"Bad day?"
"Who do you work for?" the woman asked, her voice like velvet and ice.
"Oh, I don't work for anyone," Sunny replied with a disarming smile.
"I just moved here. I'm actually looking for a job next week."
The lady in red sighed, wondering if this girl was truly this naive or a very talented actress.
"Get out of here," she said coldly.
"I just want to be your friend."
"I don't have friends," the woman replied. "I only have enemies."
"Everyone has enemies," Sunny said, sitting down uninvited.
"Even I have them. But that doesn't mean I won't have friends. See those girls over there? They're my family. We've been through hell together. That's why I want to be your friend."
The woman closed her eyes. She's too stupid to be a spy, she thought. Or too pure for this city.
"Don't you know who I am?"
"No," Sunny said innocently. "I told you, I'm new. I want to know you."
The woman sighed again, realizing the only way to get rid of the girl was to indulge her.
"I had a fight with my brother."
"Hmm. Siblings," Sunny nodded sagely. "My friends and I fight constantly. Ariana—the one dancing—she refuses to use her own makeup brushes. It's infuriating. I mean, I'm sure your brother doesn't wear makeup, but... oh, I'm rambling. I should stop."
Back at the bar, Ariana drifted back to Melissa.
"Where's Sunny?"
Melissa pointed with her chin. Ariana's jaw dropped.
"Oh snap, she bagged a rich one! Look at that dress."
"Don't ruin it," Melissa warned.
"I need to go over there," Ariana started to move, but Melissa's hand shot out, gripping her wrist with iron strength.
Her expression was deadly serious.
"Let her handle it. You'll mess with her groove."
Ariana sighed, defeated. "You're right. I just feel bad for her. She's never been lucky in love. Maybe the world just isn't ready for her."
"That's bullshit," Melissa snapped.
"The world is ready; Sunny just trusts too easily."
"You're one to talk," Ariana countered.
"We've never seen you with anyone. Are you into girls too?"
"This has nothing to do with me," Melissa said, her gaze darkening.
"Love is the least of my problems."
Before Ariana could respond, Sunny was walking back toward them, her face pale.
"Can we go home now?"
"So soon?" Ariana asked, disappointed.
"Is everything alright?" Melissa's instincts flared.
"I'm just tired," Sunny murmured.
As Ariana led Sunny toward the exit, Melissa lingered for a second.
She turned her head and locked eyes with the lady in the red dress.
She didn't see a grieving sister; she saw a predator. Melissa didn't flinch. She gave the woman a look of cold, murderous warning—a silent promise that if she touched Sunny, there would be nowhere left to hide.
Then, she turned and followed her sisters into the night.