CHAPTER 3 – AGENT 23

The penthouse sat high above the city, wrapped in glass and light.

Emily stood near the window, arms folded, watching the glow of traffic far below. Everything felt unreal - the height, the silence, the soft hum of luxury. The room smelled clean and expensive, like money and calm had been bottled and sprayed into the air.

“This is insane,” she muttered.

Damien stood a few steps behind her, loosening his jacket. “It’s safe.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do,” he said. “If you go back to your place, they’ll find you. Here, they won’t.”

She turned to face him. “So I’m just supposed to trust you?”

He met her gaze evenly. “Yes.”

She laughed once, sharp and humorless. “You really think that’s enough?”

“I’m a good man,” he said simply.

Emily stepped closer. “Good men don’t have people with guns chasing them through the city and trying to kill them.”

“I’m telling you,” Damien said, his voice calm but firm. “I don’t know who those people were.”

She studied him for a moment, searching for cracks. Then her eyes dropped to his side. “You’re still bleeding.”

“I’ll handle it.”

She reached for him anyway. “Let me see.”

Damien stepped back instantly. “No.”

Her hand froze midair. “Excuse me?”

“I said no,” he repeated. “Leave it.”

That was odd. She narrowed her eyes, but before she could push further, he pulled out his phone and turned away.

“Meet me at the back entrance,” he said into it. “Now.”

He ended the call and looked back at her. “Stay here and sleep. You’ll be safe.”

“You’re just leaving?” she asked. “Like that?”

“I’ll be back tomorrow.”

“How do I know that?”

He paused at the door. “Because I said I would.”

Then he added, almost casually, “Order anything you want. Eat. Shower. I own the hotel.”

“Wait…”

The door closed behind him.

Emily stood there, staring at the empty space he’d left behind.

“…Great,” she said to no one.

She stripped out of her clothes and headed for the bathroom. The shower was perfect - temperature balanced to the degree, water falling like silk over her skin. She stood there longer than necessary, breathing in expensive soap and unfamiliar comfort.

She hadn’t even looked around properly before.

When she stepped out, wrapped in a thick white robe, she finally noticed the penthouse. The clean lines. The art on the walls. The quiet confidence of wealth that didn’t need to announce itself.

A knock came at the door.

Two hotel staff entered, polite and discreet. One pushed in a cart of food. The other laid clothes across the bed - jeans, a T-shirt, soft sleepwear.

“Compliments of Mr. Hayes,” one said.

Emily nodded. “Leave it.”

After they left, Emily changed quickly - sliding into the jeans and T-shirt laid out on the bed. They fit perfectly, like they’d been chosen with unsettling precision.

She ate slowly, savoring fruit and warm food, humming under her breath without realizing it. For a moment, she let herself enjoy it.

Then she stood, walked to the window, and opened it a crack.

Cold air rushed in.

Emily swung one leg out, then the other.

She climbed onto the ledge.

The city dropped away beneath her, dizzying and vast. She gripped the stone column beside the window and slid down with practiced ease, body moving like this was something she’d done a thousand times before – Because she had.

She dropped to the lower level silently, then made her way around to the service entrance.

A car waited.

She climbed in.

The driver glanced at her through the mirror and smirked. “Wow. You smell nice Twenty-three. Already enjoying the billionaire’s money?”

“Shut up and drive – And its Agent Emily to you, not Twenty-Three.”

The car pulled away.

The headquarters to the agency was hidden beneath an unmarked building, cold and metallic and familiar in all the worst ways.

The moment Emily walked in, she saw them.

Ralph leaned against a wall, smoking. Marcus stood near a bank of monitors.  Mercer – the tech - worked quietly, eyes glued to screens. And at the desk - calm, composed - the boss - Director Knox looked up.

Ralph whistled. “Damn. Look at you, Twenty-Three. Did Damien buy you that?”

She stopped walking.

“It’s Emily,” she said flatly.

He grinned. “Yeah. Right.”

Her jaw tightened.

She stepped forward. “What the hell was that back there?”

The room went quiet.

“You almost killed us,” she continued. “That wasn’t the plan.”

Director Knox leaned back. “Explain.”

“The plan was to hit him at the bar,” Emily snapped. “Let me handle him once he was alone. Instead, you followed us. We crashed. We almost died.”

“And yet,” the Knox said calmly, “you didn’t.”

“What if I had?”

“That accident,” he said, “was controlled. One of ours.”

Her eyes burned. “I don’t like surprises.”

“We needed him to trust you,” Knox replied. “Do you think he would’ve taken you anywhere personal if he didn’t believe you were in danger too?”

“He didn’t even take me to his place.”

“He took you somewhere safe,” the boss countered. “That’s progress.”

Mercer’s voice cut in from the monitors. “There’s nothing. No signal. No call for backup. We still don’t know what caused the blast at the warehouse.”

Emily turned. “I did.”

Everyone looked at her.

“You used your powers? You should have asked for permission,” the boss said coolly.

She laughed, sharp and bitter. “So you get to improvise, but I don’t?”

Emily lifted her hand slightly.

Knox raised the remote.

“You know the rules,” he said evenly. “No powers on colleagues.”

Emily let out a short, humorless laugh and lowered her arm. “Relax. I was just stretching.”

Ralph smirked. “Sure you were.”

She shot him a look. “Not everything I do is an attack.”

Knox didn’t lower the remote right away.

Emily’s jaw tightened.

The men chuckled.

Emily dropped her hand slowly, fury simmering under her skin.

The boss leaned forward. “What matters is this; he trusts you now. Get inside his circle and find Robin hood.”

Emily stared at the floor, then nodded once.

“Yes, sir.”