INICIAR SESIÓNKeith. The audit reveals nothing. Three days of scrutinizing financial records, communication logs, movement patterns—and everyone comes up clean. Marcus, Dimitri, Sofia, even Amanda. No unexplained deposits, no suspicious contacts, no gaps in their timelines that would indicate covert meetings. Which means either our mole is exceptionally good at covering their tracks, or they're someone we haven't considered. "There has to be something," I mutter, staring at the screens in Sofia's surveillance room. "Sokolov's information is too accurate to be coming from external surveillance alone. Someone's feeding him details." Sofia pulls up another set of files. "I've been thinking about that. What if it's not one of us directly? What if the mole is using an intermediary?" "Explain." "Someone in the organization, but not inner circle. Someone with access to reports, security briefings, the kind of administrative work that gives them information without requiring high-level clearance."
Amanda. I don't trust Elena Colombo. I know Keith wants me to give her a chance. I know she's been following orders, reporting information, playing by the rules. But every time I see her, I remember Keith walking away with a gun to his head. I remember the terror of thinking I'd lost him forever. Trust doesn't rebuild that easily. Still, I have to admit—grudgingly—that she's competent. More than competent, actually. In training, she's pushed me to improve in ways Dimitri alone couldn't. She knows tricks and techniques from her family's operatives, different fighting styles that complement what I've learned. "Guard up," she barks during our morning session. We're alone in the training room—Dimitri had to handle a security issue, leaving us unsupervised for the first time. I block her strike, counter with one of my own. She deflects it easily. "You're telegraphing again. The shoulder dips before you punch." "Then stop reading my tells." "Or you could stop having tells." She circ
Keith. Elena Colombo's first day in my organization does not go smoothly. "Absolutely not," Dimitri says flatly when I announce she'll be training alongside Amanda. "I will not put them in same room. One will kill the other." "Then make sure it's supervised killing. Controlled aggression builds skills." I'm only half-joking. "Elena needs to understand how we operate, and Amanda needs to learn to work with people she doesn't trust. It's perfect." Marcus, sitting across from my desk, looks equally skeptical. "Boss, I get what you're trying to do. Convert the enemy, keep her close, all that Sun Tzu stuff. But Elena kidnapped you three days ago. Putting her in a position where she has access to Amanda, to our operations, to sensitive information—it's a massive risk." "Life is risk. This is calculated risk." "Calculated insanity, more like." I can't entirely disagree. But my instincts tell me that Elena, properly channeled, could be a valuable asset. She has skills, connections, and
Amanda. I'm suiting up for war when Marcus's phone rings. "It's Franco," he says, answering. He listens for a long moment, his expression shifting from tense to confused to stunned. "You're joking. He actually—" Another pause. "Alright. We'll stand down. But I'm sending a car to pick him up. Non-negotiable." He hangs up and just stares at his phone. "What?" I demand. "What happened? Is Keith—" "He's fine. Franco let him go. But there's been... a development." "What kind of development?" "The kind where your boyfriend offers his kidnapper a job instead of having her killed." I'm certain I misheard. "What?" Marcus explains the whole thing—Franco arriving, confronting Elena, offering to sideline her. And then Keith, in a move no one saw coming, suggesting Elena work for our organization for a year as training and rehabilitation. "He's lost his mind," I say flatly. "Elena just kidnapped him. She planted explosives on our property. She threatened to torture him. And he wants to e
Keith. The warehouse Elena brings me to is predictably isolated—dockside, abandoned, no witnesses. She's learned from her father's mistakes, at least. My hands are zip-tied behind my back, my phone confiscated. Elena keeps the gun trained on me as she forces me into a chair and secures my ankles to its legs. Professional, efficient, terrifyingly competent. "Comfortable?" she asks, stepping back to admire her work. "I've been better." I test the restraints—tight but not impossible. Given time and tools I don't have, I might work free. "So what now? You ransom me back to my organization? Torture me for information? Kill me and trigger a war?" "All of the above, eventually." She pulls up another chair, sitting backward on it, arms crossed over the back. "But first, we talk. I want to understand something." "What?" "Why her? Amanda. She's pretty enough, I suppose, but there are thousands of beautiful women in London. Women with breeding, connections, who could actually be assets to
Amanda. The trap is elegant in its simplicity. Sofia creates a false security report suggesting a weakness in the estate's eastern perimeter—a blind spot in the camera coverage, a gap in the patrol schedule. We make sure this information gets leaked to one of Elena's contacts, a low-level operative who thinks he's spying for her but is actually feeding her exactly what we want. Meanwhile, I become the bait. "I don't like this," Keith says for the hundredth time as I prepare for my role. "Using you as the target—" "Is the only thing that makes sense," I finish. "Elena wants to get to me. We're giving her the opportunity, but on our terms, in our controlled environment." The plan is for me to take my usual evening walk through the estate gardens—a routine I've established over the past weeks. Except tonight, I'll conveniently walk near that 'blind spot' in the eastern perimeter. If Elena takes the bait, she'll make her move. And we'll be waiting. "Fifteen operatives positioned a







