The ride to the mansion was cloaked in silence. Neither Aurora nor Sebastian spoke. The tension wasn't uncomfortable—rather, it was contemplative.
Each had their own thoughts spiraling in the silence. Sebastian stole a glance at her now and then, his mind a whirlwind of questions.
His mind kept replaying the scenes of Aurora single-handedly fighting off those assassins.
The way she fought today, he thought, astonished, wasn't something a regular girl could pull off. Those assassins were trained—brutal, precise, and efficient.
Yet Aurora, with fluid, lethal grace, dismantled them one by one. She didn't hesitate. There was no fear, no panic—only cold calculation.
That wasn't the work of an amateur. Who are you really, Aurora Smith? he thought, intrigued. Could she be an assassin too? Her reflexes, awareness, and control were on par with his own. Maybe more.
