Maverick stood by the window when Anna walked in, his posture calm but his mind clearly unsettled, and the moment his eyes landed on her there was something different in them, something quieter, heavier, as if the truth of who she was had settled deep into him and refused to let go, and Anna noticed it immediately but didn't comment on it because she was still learning how to stand in front of him without letting her emotions take control, and for a few seconds neither of them spoke, the silence stretching between them not out of hostility but out of uncertainty, like both of them were trying to figure out how to exist in this new reality where they were no longer strangers but not quite family either, and Maverick was the first to break the silence, his voice lower than usual, less commanding, more careful, "I want to ask you something," he said, and Anna crossed her arms slightly, bracing herself without even realizing it, "What is it?" she replied, her tone steady but guarded, and Maverick hesitated, something he rarely did, as if the question he wanted to ask carried more weight than he was used to handling, "Your mother," he finally said, and just hearing those words made something tighten in Anna's chest because Mirabel was a name she had only recently begun to connect with her past, a name that suddenly carried more meaning than it ever had before, "What about her?" she asked quietly, and Maverick turned to face her fully now, his eyes searching hers as if trying to find traces of the woman he once loved, "How did she die?" he asked, and the question landed heavier than anything else he had said to her so far, because it wasn't about power or identity or the war between him and Vincent, it was personal, deeply personal, and Anna felt her throat go dry for a moment as memories she rarely allowed herself to revisit began to surface, and she looked away briefly, taking a slow breath before answering because this wasn't just information, it was a piece of pain she had carried alone for years, "It was an accident," she said at first, her voice quieter now, and Maverick frowned slightly, stepping closer, "What kind of accident?" he pressed, and Anna hesitated again, her fingers tightening slightly against her arms as if holding herself together, and then she said it, the words coming out heavier than she expected, "A hit and run," and the moment the words left her lips the air in the room seemed to shift, Maverick's expression freezing as if he hadn't heard her correctly, "What?" he asked, his voice sharper now, and Anna forced herself to meet his gaze even though it wasn't easy, "She was walking home one night," she continued, her voice steady but carrying the weight of memory, "and a car hit her… and didn't stop," and silence followed, thick and suffocating, and Maverick didn't move, didn't speak, because something about what she just said didn't sit right with him, not just because of the tragedy of it but because of the way it happened, the timing, the circumstances, it felt wrong in a way he couldn't immediately explain, and Anna watched him carefully, noticing the shift in his expression, the way his jaw tightened slightly, the way his eyes darkened not with anger but with something closer to realization, "They never found who did it," she added softly, and that seemed to hit him even harder because in his world things like that didn't just happen without a trace, not without someone knowing something, and Maverick turned away slightly, running a hand through his hair as his mind began to work through possibilities he didn't like, "When was this?" he asked, his voice lower now, more controlled, and Anna frowned slightly at the change in his tone, "Years ago," she said, "I was still young," and Maverick nodded slowly, but his silence spoke louder than any reaction could have because he was thinking, connecting things, digging through memories and events from the past that he had long buried, and Anna stepped forward slightly, her confusion growing, "Why are you asking?" she said, and Maverick didn't answer immediately, which only made her more uneasy, "Maverick," she called, more firmly this time, and he finally looked at her again, his expression serious in a way she hadn't seen before, "Because that doesn't sound like an accident," he said quietly, and Anna's heart skipped, "What do you mean?" she asked, her voice tightening slightly, and Maverick held her gaze, "In my world, people don't just get hit and left like that unless it's intentional," he said, and Anna shook her head immediately, "No," she said, almost too quickly, "it was just a hit and run, that's what the police said," and Maverick's eyes didn't waver, "The police don't always know everything," he replied, and those words sent a chill through her because a part of her had always wondered, always questioned why no one was ever found, why the case just went cold like it didn't matter, and now hearing him say this made that buried doubt rise to the surface, "Are you saying someone… wanted her dead?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, and Maverick didn't respond right away because he wasn't the kind of man who made assumptions without certainty, but the possibility was already there, heavy and dangerous, "I'm saying it's possible," he said finally, and Anna felt her chest tighten because this was more than she had prepared for, more than she was ready to face, and she looked away, her mind racing, "She was just… living her life," she said softly, almost to herself, "she wasn't involved in anything," and Maverick's expression softened slightly at that because he knew Mirabel better than anyone else, knew she had wanted a life away from all of this, away from him, away from the danger, "She left to stay away from my world," he said quietly, "but sometimes… that world doesn't let people go so easily," and Anna looked back at him, her eyes filled with a mix of fear and confusion, "Do you think it has something to do with you?" she asked, and for the first time since she met him Maverick didn't have an immediate answer, and that alone was enough to shake her because if a man like him wasn't sure, then the truth was deeper than she imagined, "I don't know," he admitted, his voice lower than before, and Anna swallowed hard, the weight of everything pressing down on her, because now her mother's death wasn't just a tragic memory, it was a question, a mystery, something that might be connected to the very world she was now trapped in, and the silence that followed wasn't empty but filled with realization, with the understanding that this wasn't just about the past anymore, it was about something unfinished, something hidden, something that might change everything they thought they knew, and Maverick finally spoke again, his tone firm now, "I'll find out," he said, and Anna looked at him, searching his face, "Why?" she asked, and his answer came without hesitation, "Because she mattered," he said, then after a brief pause he added, more quietly, "And so do you," and those words stayed with her long after the conversation ended, echoing in her mind as she walked away, because for the first time she wasn't just questioning who her father was, she was questioning everything about her past, including the one thing she thought she understood—how her mother died.
