MasukKeith. The location comes through at six PM: an abandoned industrial complex in East London, far from prying eyes and convenient witnesses. "It's a trap," Marcus says immediately. "Has to be. Sokolov picking somewhere isolated, hard to surveil, easy to control." "Of course it's a trap. The question is whether Elena can spring it without getting caught in it herself." I study the building schematics Sofia pulled up. "Three entry points, two exits, multiple internal rooms. If this goes wrong, extraction will be nearly impossible." "Then we don't let it go wrong," Dimitri says. "We position teams at all exits, maintain visual on Elena, extract at first sign of trouble." "And if Sokolov sweeps for surveillance? If he detects our people?" "Then we improvise." It's not the reassurance I'm looking for, but it's the reality of the situation. Elena's walking into hostile territory with minimal backup because anything more would blow her cover. Amanda appears in the doorway. "I want to
Amanda. Elena's infiltration of Sokolov's operation begins three days after we identify Chen as the mole. She calls Reeves, tells him she's ready to commit. Within hours, she has a meeting scheduled with someone from Sokolov's inner circle. Not the man himself—he's too cautious—but a lieutenant named Alexei Volkov. "I don't like this," I tell Keith as we watch Elena prepare in Sofia's surveillance room. "Sending her in alone, with minimal backup." "She's wired, we have eyes on the location, and Dimitri's team is positioned for rapid extraction if needed." Keith's voice is calm, but I see the tension in his shoulders. "Besides, Elena insisted on minimal support. She says too much backup will spook them." "Or she's planning to actually defect," Sofia mutters. "Use this as her chance to escape our control." It's a possibility we've all considered. Elena's proven herself over the past month, but trust is still conditional. This operation—going into enemy territory—is the ultimate te
Keith. 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







