A game of dangerous loyalties

I stood there, dumbfounded, torn between quietly shutting the door and backing away or saying something to explain my intrusion. But I didn’t have to decide; he broke the silence first. “Who the hell are you?” He scowled, still lying on the ground, staring up at me.“I…um, I came to…” My gaze darted around, searching for an excuse, until I spotted a mop in the far corner of the room. “Clean! Yeah, I'm the janitor, and I came to clean.”He sat up, narrowing his eyes. “Are you new or something? Didn’t Marcus tell you no one enters this room without my permission?’No and No. But I smiled, and walked into the room, heading toward the mop. “Actually, I just started today and didn’t know you’d be here, Mr Windsor. Sorry.”I grabbed the mop and began wiping the floor in front of me.“Get out.”“Sorry?” I blinked, taken aback.“Are you deaf? Get out.” He barked, brushing off his sweatpants as he stood up. “If you’re rude enough to barge in without knocking, and then dumb enough to start cle

“So let me get this straight. You've owed the states over $200,000 for, what, two to three years now? And when they gave you a two-month forbearance period, you just decided to relax, thinking your debt would go poof, no?”I glared at Fitz, sensing his mockery, especially as he switched from his usual American accent to a casual french one.Hearing him recount everything I'd told him, I could finally see how stupid I'd been. Not once had I bothered to find a real, better-paying job, instead, settling for the small amounts Marcus gave me to help him train the junior recruits. If I was honest, I didn't deserve the payment—-Marcus was more than capable of training them himself. He only included me because he knew about my situation and the reason I’d moved to Seattle in the first place.I ran my finger along the rim of glass, my gaze fixed on the amber liquid. “Yeah, I see how stupid that sounds now,” I sighed.The amusement vanished from Fitz’s face as he took in my broken expression.

The weight of Marcus’ words sank into me like a stone dropped into a deep, dark well. You’re going to kill. The phrase kept playing in my head, disbelief gnawing at the edges of my thoughts. Marcus—the man who trained me to defend myself, who taught me true power lies in restraint—was ordering a hit?I barely had time to process it before the man and woman nodded curtly, pocketed their photos, and turned to leave. Panic surged through me. If they came out now, they’d see me, no question. My heart pounded as I searched for a place to hide, but there wasn't time.The door creaked open.I ducked into the shadow of a nearby rack holding training equipment, crouching low and pressing myself against the wall. My hands shook as I peeked out from between the dumbbells. The man walked out first, his boots heavy on the tile floor, followed by the woman, Leah. She moved with the coiled grace of a predator, her fingers brushing the gun at her back as she stopped suddenly, tilting her head like sh

"Osborn, is everything okay?” I blinked, shaking myself out of my initial shock. “Yeah. You were saying?” Marcus leaned over and took the file from me. “You don't seem fine. You know, if you don't want it—” “No!” I snatched the file back from him. He jumped, startled by my sudden outburst. “Okay, seriously, what's wrong, Osborn?” I sighed, noticing the crease forming on Marcus’s forehead. He was genuinely worried, but I couldn't tell him the real reason I was acting weird. If Reid had wanted him to know about our meeting, Marcus would have known by now. The fact that he didn't, confirmed that it wasn't my place to say anything. “It's nothing. I was just surprised that my long-time crush is the one I'll be guarding.” I shrugged, forcing a nonchalant tone. Marcus rolled his eyes and stood, walking around his desk to perch on its edge in front of me. “Yeah, Reid Windsor is literally every girl in Seattle's crush, but don't get carried away. This is a mission, and worse still

A dull ache throbbed in my head as I blinked my eyes open, groggily taking in my surroundings. I was lying on a familiar couch, the rich aroma of brewing coffee filling the air. The intricately carved pillar in the corner of the room, along with the centerpiece on the gleaming glass table, told me everything I needed to know about where I was. I lifted a hand to my head, trying to recall yesterday’s event. Fragments of memory came back—the press conference, the ambush, the deafening crack of gunfire—and then nothing. The rest was a blank. Memories of how I'd gotten here, who brought me back, and what exactly had happened during the ambush were all lost to me. Sharp pain flared in my temple as I pushed myself upright. I leaned back into the couch, easing into a seated position, and closed my eyes. My mind felt hazy, as if crucial details were trapped just out of reach. I could remember the moment the first gunshot had shattered the quiet evening—the way it sent our driver spiraling