CHAPTER 22
The success of the mission hung in the air like a final page turned in a long, dangerous chapter. Vivienne Blythe Wrenford — "Alexine Vause" to the prison — was no longer a spy on an assignment, no longer entangled in codes, hidden messages, and knife's-edge escapes. For the first time in years, she was simply Viv, a woman with a bookstore, a cat, and a partner who had waited for her through every risk.
Daphne suggested they make the most of this new freedom. She'd been watching Viv for months — the quiet way she carried tension in her shoulders, the haunted glint that sometimes flashed behind her calm eyes. Now, with the mission over and nothing left to hide, Daphne proposed something radical: they'd shut the bookstore for a week, she'd take time off from her IT job, and the three of them — her, Viv, and Duke Pudding — would disappear somewhere untouched by the noise of the modern world.
Viv hesitated only for a moment before agreeing. And so, days later, they stepped off a small regional train into a village in Switzerland that seemed frozen in another century. Wooden chalets clung to the hillsides, cowbells chimed lazily in the distance, and the air smelled of pine and fresh snow. There was no Wi-Fi, no buzzing phones, no contact with anyone who might pull them back into danger.
For once, Viv didn't have to scan the horizon for threats. She strolled the narrow cobblestone lanes with Daphne at her side and Duke Pudding cradled in her arms like the prince he believed himself to be. At night, they sat by the fire in their rented cottage, sharing silent glances and soft smiles. It was, without question, the most peaceful trip Viv had ever taken — and the first one where she wasn't pretending to be someone else.
Meanwhile, far away, Penelope Ives Prescott had her own unfinished business. The freedom granted to her came with conditions — curfews, check-ins, and a shadow of surveillance — but she was determined to use it. She requested permission from her assigned supervisor to visit "Alexine Vause" at the prison. It took days for the request to go through, and even then, her escort was reluctant.
When she finally arrived at the prison gates, Pen was escorted inside, her pulse quickening with anticipation. But the news came with a casual shrug from a guard:
"Alexine Vause? She's not here anymore."
The words hit Pen like ice water. She pressed for details — transferred where, when, why — but all she got was a vague answer. "Moved. Or maybe released. Could be gone for good."
Pen left the prison with more questions than she had walked in with, the name "Alexine" echoing in her head like an unfinished sentence.
Bạn đang đọc truyện trên: Truyen3h.Co