The Wishes We Keep

I'd been at Cayden's side since I was eighteen. He'd plucked me from a pile of corpses, once declaring me his sharpest, most reliable blade. I'd done his dirty work, even serving time in prison for him.

"Aubrey," he'd promised, "when you get out, we'll marry."

But on the day of my release, he was nowhere to be found. I later learned he'd married the daughter of a wealthy family—someone of his own standing. Cayden insisted it was just for show, that I was the one he truly loved. But I knew he was lying.

I'd overheard him telling his subordinates, "Aubrey can't be allowed to live. Find a way to get rid of her."

He wouldn't have to dirty his own hands; he'd saved my life once, taking it back would be nothing. So why, when I was on the brink of death, did he suddenly refuse to let me go? Everything had gone exactly as he planned, hadn't it?

***

Six years had passed since my sentencing. The warden gave me a polite nod as I stepped out. I returned it with a faint smile and walked slowly into the morning light. The world stretched before me, vast and unfamiliar.

I stood there, leather jacket clinging to my frame, the jeans I wore a relic of a life that felt like it belonged to someone else. A cold wind swept past and I pulled the jacket tighter around me, staring at the empty road ahead.

No one was waiting for me.

I pulled out my old phone, its screen scratched and smudged from years of use. Only one contact was saved on it: "Mr. Cooper." His name felt like a ghost in my hand. I dialed, but after a few rings, the call diverted.

I tucked the phone back into my pocket and wandered to a small eatery nearby. The place was humble, its faded sign swaying slightly in the wind. Inside, the smell of frying oil and coffee greeted me, mingling with the faint chatter of patrons. I ordered a sandwich and sat by the window, watching the world move on without me.

As I took a bite of the sandwich, the roar of a motorcycle engine caught my attention. Dennis arrived moments later, skidding to a halt on a sleek sportbike that gleamed under the sun. His helmet tucked under his arm, he scanned the eatery with a troubled expression.

"Dennis," I called, raising a hand. His gaze snapped to me and his face lit up with a grin that made him look like a boy again.

"Big sis!" he exclaimed, hurrying over.

He dropped into the seat across from me, the chair scraping noisily against the floor. Dennis had grown since I'd last seen him—no longer the scrawny, wide-eyed kid I'd picked up years ago. His shoulders were broader, his features sharper, but there was still a youthful eagerness in the way he grinned.

"Nice bike," I said, nodding toward the machine parked outside. "Isn't that the new model this year?"

He laughed, his pride impossible to hide. "You've still got an eye for these things. Yeah, it's the latest."

I smiled faintly, the memory of my own love for motorcycles flickering to life. Back then, Cayden had always ensured I had the best—one of the few indulgences he allowed me.

Dennis hesitated, the smile slipping from his face for a fraction of a second. "Aubrey," he said carefully, "have you eaten enough? Let me take you home. Mr. Cooper's arranged everything for you. You'll love the house, I promise."

I paused, the weight of his words settling heavily in my chest. "Where is he?"

Dennis hesitated, his eyes flicking away for a brief moment. "You know how it is—busy with work."

I stared at him, the weight of his words settling heavily in my chest. Of course, Cayden was busy. Business always came first—before me, before anything. That was something I had learned a long time ago.

***

The villa he brought me to was stunning, a vision of modern luxury. Steel gates opened to reveal a sprawling property surrounded by manicured gardens. The house itself gleamed in the afternoon sun, its glass walls and sharp angles standing in stark contrast to the warmth I had longed for.

Inside, the air was cool and sterile, every surface immaculate. Dennis watched me carefully as I wandered through the space, his hands shoved into his pockets.

"This is his token of gratitude," he said finally. "For everything you've done for him."

A token of gratitude. The words struck like a cold wind.

I walked into the bedroom, where a pair of teddy bears sat on the bed—one in a suit, the other in a wedding dress. I picked up the bear in the suit, its soft nose squishing under my finger.

It looked like him. Cayden.

Suddenly, the need to see him clawed at my chest. Six years had passed, but his shadow still lingered in my mind. How had he been?