Dedicated to @Tabbizcat17 who found a little secret I hid in this story and uncovered the legend of the lily. You made me so incredibly happy. It's always amazing to hear someone loved your story enough to dig deeper. For those of you who were unaware, I'm referring to the hidden tidbit in Callaia's namesake.
There's many legends and tales behind the lily. Quite a few decided on her name, and some I didn't even know about and was told by Tabbizcat17. In particular, I'm referring to the water lily being called, the queen of the water. It's what decided on her white hair and blue eyes. Water is obviously a big factor in this book and though we haven't actually reached some of these parts yet, there are disasters and scenes with water that all return to the hidden namesake. Thank you for noticing! It made me feel so amazing to hear how much you cared about my story🖤
🌐
𝚃𝚎𝚗 𝚈𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚜 𝙰𝚐𝚘
Ｓａｖａｎｎａｈ，Ｇｅｏｒｇｉａ
𝚂𝚘𝚜𝚊 𝙴𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚝𝚎
"Alright, vandrare. Let's try this again."
I shuffle on my feet with unease as I stand across the room from Paw. His snow white hair, the same color as mine, is sticking to his scalp with sweat. His ice blue eyes, also identical to mine, are staring back at me with an intensity I'm not use to seeing on his face.
Paw is usually so playful and kind. He looks at me with love. Not today though, in this Syndicate dojo of his, as he stands on the black floor mats with an unreadable expression.
Once he found out about the fights at school, instead of being angry with me, this glint flashed in his eyes before he disappeared to call a friend of his. His friend, Dr. Roberts, stands off to the side giving instructions to me. Dr. Roberts terrified me when he first showed up at our front door. I'd answered the door even though I'm not suppose to and met the kind eyed man with graying brown hair. I've never done well with strangers and ended up hiding half behind the door without speaking a word. He'd remained just outside in a crouch as he talked gently to me for ten minutes. That's how Paw found us - with me staring out from behind our heavy front door and Dr. Roberts telling me about his wife in a gentle spoken ramble.
"Don't think on it too much, Callaia. We've seen what you can do. Don't hesitate now." Dr. Roberts calls over to me.
I huff at them both, fingers gripping the edges of my blue cotton shorts," That's different. I don't want to hurt him." Dr. Roberts became a drill sergeant as soon as we entered the dojo. Gone is the gentle doctor at our front door and in place, a ruthless dictator who won't let me hide in the bathroom from the guns they want me to shoot. Amazingly, I found my words again around the doctor as soon as he pushed my patience to the limit. He wouldn't let me say 'no'. He refuses to let me be afraid.
Paw smirks at me. That playful glint that I'm use to returns," Don't make me give you a reason to."
Frustrated, I stomp a foot and whine out," Why do we have to do this anyways? It's stupid."
Paw stands straight from his fighting stance and Dr. Roberts walks over to join his side. Both of them stare down at me patiently.
Paw holds up two fingers," Two reasons. Firstly, it'd make me feel better if you could protect yourself."
I huff and cross my arms. My black tank top bunching up under my arms," I can defend myself just fine. Obviously." The last word out of my mouth is said sassily. The whole reason this is even happening is because I knocked a girl out cold during recess for calling my mama a whore. I thought I would be in so much trouble. Though that's still up for debate even if Paw says this isn't a punishment. Training with them is rough.
Paw smirks at me as his friend chuckles. He continues on as if I said nothing," Which leads me to the second reason. You've shown an amazing amount of skill that the Syndicate is without a doubt going to be interested in. You're brave and aren't afraid to stand up for what's right. I've seen you outwit and outmaneuver experienced adults much wiser than you. Not to mention you can shoot spitballs at your teachers like a sniper." He ends on a chuckle. I grow more grumpy as he listed off my 'prized attributes'.
It's not my fault the teachers are mean.
"You're at an advantage vandrare. You have a family member already in the Syndicate. If you want, I'll help you get in. That means training in certain things to give you a head start. I'll get you through the training phase of initiation in our spare time so you'll be ready when the time comes."
I twist my lips. Paw and Dr. Roberts have been talking a lot about this illusive Syndicate I've never heard of before today. Paw seems to really want me to join, going on and on about a place for me where I'll finally belong and to do things that matter. I don't exactly agree with everything I've heard though. They seem like pussies, always aiming to be the hero. Even if that means sacrificing lives for the cause of 'faction safety'.
What if I don't want to pull back when my faction Commander orders me to? What if I want to keep fighting on? What if I'm okay with being the bad guy, with breaking laws, if it means I get to save even one more person?
"And if I don't want to?" I whisper with my head down. I let my shoulder length hair fall around my face so I won't have to see his disappointment in me. I never knew he even existed until two years ago. I was so scared of him when my father took me to his door in the middle of the night. Now he's the only person in the world that I care anything about. The only person who's opinion actually matters. Everyone else can burn in Hell for all I care...
Paw crouches down in front of me and lifts my chin up with his cool as a cucumber fingers. He smiles at me when I finally meet his gaze," Then you're going to learn anyways."
I groan," Fine."
Dr. Roberts moves out of the way as Paw and I get into position across from each other on the mats. I crouch, shifting my weight as I watch his every twitch with calculating eyes. My eyes narrow when Paw smirks at me.
He told me to move as I feel is natural. He told me to embrace my body's natural instincts. He also told me I looked like a little savage urchin from the Congo when I fight. He said I looked like I was about to start swinging from vines any moment and start ululating.
Paw moves slightly to the right and I strike like a snake without hesitating. Swift and sure, I jump into the air before he even realizes I've moved. My legs are pulled up, arms drifting above me, as I aim to latch onto him like a koala.
Paw smirks after the shock has worn off and before I know it he's grabbed my ankle. I bite my tongue as I'm jerked roughly to the side from midair. Paw swings me around in a circle by me ankle, completely disorienting me, and lets go. I fly through the air, an embarrassing squeal escaping me, and land in a heap across the room.
I jump up instantly and crouch down, my teeth bared in a snarl. Lunging forward yet again, I just barely miss another swipe of his hands when I'm back in his range.
Chuckling, Paw lectures me as we dance on our feet. Both of us swiping and dodging, but not landing a single throw. As soon as he gets a hand on me, I slink out of his grip like a snake. As soon as I go to hit him, he's already two steps ahead of me and sidesteps my untrained and impulsive strikes.
"We will train you everyday, before you go to school, before you go to bed," Paw says calmly as we spar. I barely manage to dodge his leg swipe and stumble on my landing. "We will train you to fight, for yourself and others."
I throw a unpracticed punch at him only for Paw to grab me around the wrist. I grunt, grimacing as he applies pressure with two fingers on a pressure point there, completely immobilizing me. "You will eat, sleep, and breath your training."
He releases my wrist, pushing me back as he does. I stumble, falling back. Annoyed with my incapability to win, I let out a battle cry and run at him. He dodges like an agile lion, his movements swift and precise. Nothing I throw at him touches him at all. "This will be your life until everything we teach you is instinct, a reaction without hesitation. No longer will you fear a gun. It will be an extension of your arm. No longer will ill form cost you victory. No longer will you be powerless to help yourself."
I roll out of the way just as he high kicks at me. I stumble on the landing again, crouching down as soon as I can gather myself. I stare at him with wide eyes. He hadn't hesitated. He was actually going to kick me!
He grimly nods at the look in my eyes," No one will go easy on you in your training. The world will not give you such niceties and I will not disservice you by giving you special treatment."
I snarl and run at him again. He grabs my arm and twists me around until it hurts to breath too deeply. "I've watched you since you showed up on my door, Vandrare. You're light on your feet and quick, like the gazelle. You see things others do not. Your aim is true and your heart is that of a warrior's."
He jerks my arm until I spin. Discombobulated, I stumble backwards while panting. He lands a kick right on my chest. I hear him continue as I tumble across the floor,"Whether you join the Syndicate, or you do not, you are destined to change this world Callaia. I'll be sure to give you the tools to do so."
Clutching my chest, I stumble to my feet. My eyes zero in on him as I try to catch my breathe. Instead of feeling hurt that he actually kicked me, I feel a stubborn anger that demands I prove myself. That I prove I can do this. My eyes glare at him as I bare my teeth. I'll win. One day, I'll taste victory.
Paw stands tall, undeterred by his aging bones. He stares me down, not joking anymore. His ice blue eyes glint under the fluorescent lights shiny down on us from above," Let us begin."
My eyes widen as his words sink in. He spreads his feet, honing in on me like a lion, before running at me full speed. I gasp, instinct taking over. Without realizing the mistake in my actions, I brace myself for impact and cover my face with my arms.
🌐
𝙿𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝙳𝚊𝚢
Ｓａｖａｎｎａｈ, Ｇｅｏｒｇｉａ
𝚂𝚊𝚟𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚊𝚑/𝙷𝚒𝚕𝚝𝚘𝚗 𝙷𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝙸𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝙰𝚒𝚛𝚙𝚘𝚛𝚝
𝙿𝚛𝚒𝚟𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝙷𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚊𝚛
𝟾:𝟶𝟶 𝚊.𝚖.
A United Airlines airplane flies overhead. The racket and wind coming off the white wings sends whipping vibrations down below as it takes off with its passengers. This is not the plane of interest though. The plane of interest is parked in front of an open hangar where it'll be stored until the private owner has use of it again. It's a medium sized private jet, painted ivory with black wings like a Chanel bag, with The Wanderer painted on the ivory nose in black.
This private owner is none other than Callaia Sosa, the mysterious heiress of Sosa Industries not many in high society Georgia have had the pleasure of often seeing.
Just as the pilot climbs down from the cockpit ladder and runs towards the exit door, a door inside the private hangar opens. Like a military unit, six men in black suits and sunglasses, walk out in a single file. They regroup once all are out in the open and spread out in a duck formation. Emotionlessly, the agents stride towards the plane while the flight crew gets the exit stairs secured to the exit hatch.
"Lily, inbound." The leading suit announces into his wrist.
The pilot, a fairly handsome brunette in his late thirties, is a long trusted employee of the Sosa Empire. Alec Whitmore has flown for this prestigious family since he'd graduated from flight school. For three years now, he's flown for the heiress alone.
Straightening up his uniform, Alec sighs once he catches the familiar brooding men. Callaia and him have faired just fine on their own, but that seems incomprehensible to the infamous agents hired to escort the heiress on her return visits. They are intolerably bossy and irritate the piss out of both of them. Though they'd both be hypocrites if they denied the many nights shared over cards and liquor with the brooding sexton. They're good company...so long as they aren't on a mission.
God forbid the numerous toy dogs of Savannah, snarling in their owners' designer bags, rally together and attack the heiress. They'd have a field day.
Hearing the latch to the exit hatch slide, Alec swiftly climbs the stairs. He arrives at the top just as the air hostess opens the door. Alec smiles fondly up at his employer, taking his pilot hat off to hold respectively to his chest. He bows and holds out a hand for her," Welcome home, Miss Sosa."
Feminine fingers, the color of desert sands, reach out and elegantly placed themselves in his awaiting hand. Alec smiles to himself at the familiar touch - steady, unafraid, and manicured. A heeled black boot steps out of the plane and onto the metal stairs, joined soon by another.
Vaguely, Alec is aware of the men in black lining up in two rows at the bottom of the stairs. A long black rug being rolled out between them.
The lady herself steps fully into the open, showing off her long slender legs wrapped in black tight leather. A baggy red shirt artfully hangs off her torso hiding the slim lithe muscles underneath. She still has the black leather jacket and black infinity scarf on that tucks her white hair under it. The long straight locks falling to her hips and bunching out oddly over the scarf. They'd come straight here from a stint in Russia after the Sosa patriarch called his granddaughter home with great urgency. Apparently she chose getting in a long needed nap over changing. Something she's going to regret in this wretched humidity.
Callaia smirks down at him, a familiar playful glint in her eyes. Alec grins back at her with a wink. They don't exchange words. No need to. Both ritualistically mock the Sosa MIB with each return to the states. They've done it to the point only a look needs to be shared between them to get the joke.
"And what a welcome it is." She says dryly, in that satin over Sahara sands voice of hers. Alec stands straight and they both turn to gaze at the six suits in two rows of three. Three on the left side of the rug and three on the right. They stand at attention, facing each other. Callaia looks over at Alec with a raised brow and a smirk," Like clockwork, eh?"
Alec chuckles," Never fail, do they?", and gestures for her to head down first. She does, stalking down the stairs as if on a runway with that panther like way of moving she has. It's almost seductive, her shoulders falling, neck extending, feet prowling like a cat on the hunt. Her chin lowering as her icy eyes glint predatorily. Alec puts his hat back on his head and follows after her with a gait much more like a eager greenhorn on his first flight.
Callaia stalks through the six men who place their right hands on their hearts and bow their heads in respect. Alec is right behind her, watching the flight crew get her luggage out of the plane and onto a cargo cart. Before Callaia reaches the last two men, they turn and walk in front of her. The two before them join on either side of her and the last two encage them from behind. It's perfectly military in form.
Alec remains at her side within the MIB circle as they head towards the hangar. As if bored, Callaia inquires," Where is our car, Alec?"
Alec looks around, face growing more and more puzzled as he looks for the vehicle that's suppose to be parked right outside the hangar. The guard at the front right of the circle, Bill, answers her," Security reasons, ma'am. There were some troubling reports earlier today. We're to take you through the populated areas of the airport where your car will be awaiting at the standard pick up area for passengers."
Callaia hums to herself in thought as her eyes scan the area subtly," What kind of reports?"
Bill continues, keeping his eyes on his designated range of vision," Mere nuisances. We've handled it. Though I still don't want to risk taking you to the unguarded exit gate. Just in case."
"Just in case." She mumbles mindlessly, eyes watching like a hawk. She's never been one to depend on others to see for her. Not even for trained agents of her grandfather's.
🌐
(Play song)
Like an army unit, eight pairs of footsteps step in sync through the main area of the airport. Six black suits, a woman in black leather, and a man in a pilot's uniform make way without sparing the onlookers more than an inquisitive glance. None smile or break formation, which draws the attention of everyone in the room.
The woman gazes at the surrounding areas more so than the others, in a non visible way. Chatter fills the grand space though all conversation seems to be whispers of the VIP and the agents surrounding her.
Her phone in her inner coat pocket rings just as her eyes catch a man leaning against a pillar by a line of passengers waiting to get their tickets sorted. He appears to be facing away from them, not worried in the slightest about her and her entourage. His long blonde hair falls to his collarbones and his eyes are hidden underneath a black baseball cap that's pulled down. Just as she's about to look away from him, the cap raises with his head and warm brown eyes peer right at her.
Her heart jolts in her chest, air sucking into her lungs quietly. An electric current fires off between them as they lock eyes.
He smirks, a mischievous glint appearing in his brown eyes, as he tucks his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. He wears a black varsity jacket with grey arms, a cotton grey hood attached to it. Worn grey sneakers, unarresting in appearance, are on his feet. At first glance, besides his obvious masculine beauty, he's not worth a second thought. It's the piercing mischievous glint in his eyes that has Callaia on high alert.
He sends her an almost naughty wink, letting her know he knows he's caught her attention. Letting her know he meant for her to and isn't worried in the slightest about it.
Tilting her chin up arrogantly, she looks away from him as if he's of no concern and pulls her phone out of her pocket. Blindly hitting a button she puts it to her ear," Carefully."
Her voice rings without concern, but the choice of words has Alec tensing. He scans the crowds with more vigor, knowing she's found someone of note amongst the room.
"Already got a bugger, 'ave we?" An Irishman mocks into her ear. Her lips fight off a smirk, eyes trailing across the room as if merely taking in the view," Fourth pillar on the left."
"On it, lass." He croons eagerly.
Callaia says nothing else as they continue on through the room. The sound of chatter and planes taking off outside the wall of glass windows, fills the tense air. In only her ears, is there the sound of fingers rapidly tapping at a keyboard.
Callaia begins conversing mildly in code as she takes in another man sitting amongst passengers waiting for their flight. He sits leaned back, in black jeans and a dark green tee, with his arms behind his head. His hair is ear length, dark, and styled like some rockstar's. As she nears him, his eyes crack open. The right eye as green as spring grass and the left like a blue summer sky. They watch her as if uninterested, locked in on her as she passes by.
"Has everyone been busy?"
Declan drolls out to her in a mindless fashion while he's half focused," Our Rose left for the states as soon as Tokyo was said and done. Safe and sound with her rosebuds...the wee ugly fuckers. Disney is getting paper cuts as usual. Casanova is annoying the fuck out of the French. The Tank has been shipped to the Mediterranean as you ordered. Nightshade inbound for Sydney and the Lily is being surrounded as we speak by some packin' weeds."
Callaia remains calm as her eyes hone in on any and everyone around her. Two men push into a suit to her right. The front man makes eye contact with her briefly, his eyes deep and blue like the ocean. He's massive and broad, muscles bulging at the seams of his clothes, with short auburn hair that's contrastingly soft in appearance.
Right behind him is a tall lean man with a broad chest and muscles just as impressive as the carrot top's, though definitely not as massively built. His short sandy blonde hair is styled messily, scattering across his forehead and just barely touching the brooding eyebrows that sit over cerulean blue eyes full of burdens to spare.
Callaia narrows her eyes on the carrot top as they make eye contact. His lips pull into a cocky grin just as he's turning away from her. Briefly she looks at the towering blonde behind him before following them with her eyes as they continue walking in the opposite way.
"I have a feeling I'm going to need to landscape today." She bites out under her breathe into her phone. The suits reform after being thrown off kilter. Drake, the suit that was shouldered, growls at the two men before returning his attention to his designated view range.
"I do love a feckin' brawl." Declan says with glee. " 'specially with a lassie in the mix."
"Shut the fuck up, Declan." She growls without real bite. It's a tale as old as time, the two of them bickering.
"Ay! I was jus' slaggin, lass! No need to get ye're knickers in a twist."
Stalking with purpose now, Callaia stares straight ahead. The suits naturally pick up the pace though in the dark of the circumstances. "Keep one eye open."
"Aye, lass. Be safe."
She hangs up without replying and tucks her phone back in her inner coat pocket. Raising her chin, Callaia prowls forward, eyes catching yet another lingerer at a cafe.
He sits at a high table with a newspaper hanging from one hand. His long dark brown hair hangs over his shoulder to his ribs in a loose ponytail. Analytical dark eyes behind black plastic frames, peer right at her over a cup of coffee. He's not even trying to hide he's looking right at her.
Alec catches on to the many eyes on them. Scowling, he murmurs into the wristwatch on his left arm," Lily under fire.
Her eyes look through the glass doors before them where two black cars screech to a halt. The suits hurry, one grabbing her elbow. The urgency surges dramatically as they nearly run towards the doors. Callaia frowns to herself, not wanting to handle things this way. She glances over her shoulder, eyes darting to each place she'd seen each man.
They're all gone.
Bursting through the doors, the suits knock people out of the way without apology. Two hurry to the driver and passenger seats of the Rolls Royce in front, the agent who'd been behind the wheel scooting over. Another hurries to open her door for her as Alec circles around to get on the other side. The remaining three head towards the rear Rolls Royce, but only one of them gets in behind the wheel. The other two have a hand in their jacket as they put their backs to the vehicles and scan the crowds.
Callaia eyes the surrounding area without fear, hoping to catch their faces again. She's more than ready to jump in a fight. Nothing agitates her more than having to return to this cesspit. The suit holding open her door, grabs her arm," Miss Sosa, it's impertinent that you get in."
She yanks her arm out of his grasp, watching the crowds like a hawk. Alec leans out of the car and yells," Come on!"
She turns to do just that when someone gently bumps shoulders with her, turning her around. Two hands gently grip her upper arms, steadying her. She looks up sharply, ready to throw a punch in a split second. Instead of some evil mastermind though, she's met with burning irises the color of whiskey.
He's absolutely beautiful, with princely features and a small knowing smile. Dressed in suit pants and a white button up under a more casual business jacket, he screams high society.
Callaia doesn't flinch when the sound of the safety on a handgun being switched off, comes from behind him. Yet, neither does he. Calm and composed, his smile gradually broadens, amusement burning in his gaze.
"Sir, I'm going to ask you to step away and let go of her!" The suit shouts, catching the attention of all around them. Gasps and screams go off like firecrackers on the Fourth of July.
This doesn't phase the princely man, just as it doesn't phase her. He does step away, but only to grab her left hand. He bows over it with the smoothest grace and looks up at her through those whiskey infernos.
"My apologies, Miss Callaia." His low aristocratic voice soothes out like aged scotch and high end cigars.
She can only blink at him as he stands upright and walks past her, their eyes never looking away from each other's. Hers, wide and alert. His, smoldering and amused.
A hand grabs her arm and pulls her roughly towards the car. The suit aids her into her seat before shutting the door and joining the rear car behind them.
Callaia stares out her window, watching the princely man watching her. Mindlessly her fingers graze where his lips were as they unblinkingly lock eyes. He smiles in amusement, waving lazily at her before her vehicle drives around the bend where he's out of sight.
She glowers out her window in deep thought once she can no longer see him. Sitting back in her seat, she worries over how he knew her name and what affiliation he might have with her past.
🌐