The spy (1)

They say spies don’t break; they adapt, vanish, and improvise. Whoever said that never got trapped behind enemy lines with half a syndicate at their back and no exit plan.

My name’s Sofia Kane. Special Forces, seconded to Intelligence Command two years ago. Codename: Wraith. I was supposed to be invisible.

I’ve been undercover in Moscow for three months, watching, listening, and pretending to be someone forgettable. I’d mapped every connection the Petrov Syndicate had to military smuggling, traced shipments, photographed ledgers, and sent enough intel home to cripple their network.

Until last night. One mistake, one wrong face in the mirror, and someone recognized me. Now my safe house is gone, my contact’s dead, and the mission’s blown. Extraction was supposed to happen at 0400. It’s past that now, and no one’s coming.

So, I’m running through the woods, the cold, and the ghosts of every failed op I’ve ever survived. I’m running because the alternative is a bullet in the snow and my name buried in a classified file labeled ‘missing in action’. If I stop, they’ll find me. If I keep going, I might still have a chance. But I’m exhausted, and the Russian winter doesn’t care how elite your training is.

Cold bites deeper than pain. It feels like a living thing, crawling under my clothes, gnawing at the edges of thought until all that’s left is movement. One leg in front of the other.

I don’t know how long I’ve been running. Hours. Maybe days. My body’s running on the last fumes of adrenaline and spite. The snow’s thinner here, patchy and dirty under the trees, but the cold seeps through everything. By ‘everything’ I mean my boots, the hole in my side where a bullet grazed me, and the part of me that still believes I’ll make it out of this alive.

Branches whip across my face. Russia feels endless when you’re hunted. Every instinct tells me not to stop, but my legs tremble with each step. My throat’s dry, my mouth is sticky, and my lips are chapped. I try to remember when I last drank water, but the thought dissolves under the roar of wind and my own heartbeat.

A loud crunch of snow beneath boots that aren’t mine breaks the fragile silence, and I freeze. My pulse spikes. Another confident and unhurried crunch follows, making it known that whoever is following me isn’t afraid of being heard.

Oh shit! They found me. I duck behind a pine, drawing my knife, while trying hard to make the least noise possible. My fingers are stiff with cold, and my vision starts to blur, but training cuts through the fog. Observe. Wait. Move only when you must.

The sound comes closer. A shape breaks through the mist, revealing a tall man moving with the calm rhythm of someone who doesn’t expect to be attacked. Which means he’s confident. Or suicidal.

When he steps into the light, my stomach knots. He’s not one of theirs because I don’t see an insignia or rifle slung across his shoulder. His fluffy hood covers the top part of his face, leaving out the bearded half of his face, but I can tell he’s handsome. Should I be noticing these details? Absolutely not. But I do anyway.

“Stay back,” I warn, but my voice comes out in a raspy whisper. I forgot that the biting cold can mess up someone’s body in many ways. My vision blurs for a second, spots swimming across the trees. “What do you want?”

“Nothing,” he says, “except to keep you from freezing where you stand.”

I want to tell him I don’t need help. That I’ve survived worse. That I don’t trust strangers, especially the kind who find me in the middle of nowhere with perfect timing. But then he reaches into his coat and pulls out a canteen and tosses it to me underhanded. I catch it clumsily, the metal burning against my palms. I could use some warm food and water right now.

I hesitate. My instincts scream that it’s too easy, but hypothermia is starting to kick in, and I might die anyway in a few hours. This is a risk I have to take.

The first swallow hurts. I drink again, slower. The water tastes clean, maybe too clean, and I can’t tell if that’s relief or danger sliding down my throat. When I look up, he’s closer. Close enough for me to see the small scar above his eyebrow. Close enough that I can smell the faint trace of smoke and pine on his coat.

“Better?” he asks.

“I didn’t say you could come closer.”

“If I wanted to hurt you, you wouldn’t still be standing.”

It’s not a threat. It’s just a fact. And that somehow feels worse. My knees buckle before I can form a response, and the knife slips from my hand, sinking into the snow. He moves fast, catching me before I hit the ground. His hands are strong and steady. My body tenses against his, instinct fighting the pull of unconsciousness.

“Let go,” I whisper, though my voice barely exists.

“You’re safe now,” he whispers, and that’s the last thing I hear as everything fades into black.

***

I don’t know how long I was out for, but warmth on my skin makes me moan in contentment. This is the best feeling I’ve had in weeks, or maybe longer. I don’t know. My eyes slowly flutter open as an involuntary smile tugs the corner of my lips. But what greets me has me completely believing it is a dream. A dream I don’t want to let go of yet.

After being in the cold for so long, the warmth that caresses my skin right now feels like the gentle touch of a caring lover. The air smells faintly of pine smoke and something masculine, which makes me believe this is a man’s place. My eyes orient, and I notice I’m in a cabin. The wooden paneling has been done so well that the heat is conserved well in here. It looks so cozy, like one of those cabins straight out of P*******t. I can hear the gentle crackle of fire somewhere, and I assume that’s where all this warmth is coming from. Oh my god! Have I been kidnapped by one of those prince charming from romance stories? I giggle at that absurd thought, but I can’t help thinking about it.

But that is as far as the dream goes because my neck is stiff and I’m not lying down. I’m strapped to a chair, naked, with my legs apart. I’m straddling the chair, and my hands are tied above my head in the most sensual position I’ve ever been in. How did I even end up here?