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Chapter 114 — Sudden Collision
Last Updated:
2025-09-03 23:04:38
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Undercover Hearts Chapter 118 – The First Strike
MarcusThe fundraiser is exactly the kind of glossy, champagne-slick event I used to glide through without a second thought. Platinum branded banners draped just-so across whitewashed walls, a string quartet in the corner trying their best to be heard over the clink of crystal. The kind of room where people pretend money isn’t the real conversation.I hate it tonight.Not because I’ve forgotten how to play the part. I never forget. But because every second I’m here feels like dragging Sophia closer to the fire. She’s at my side, radiant in a black dress that looks like it was tailored to make the rest of the room irrelevant. I can feel eyes flick to her, then to me, then away.Elena floats somewhere near the bar, laughing with two investment clients. She catches my eye across the room and raises her glass in a half-toast. I force a polite nod back.When a waiter glides by, I ask for a coffee. My head’s been buzzing with too many angles. Marrin’s testimony, Gillespie’s next move, Sop
Undercover Hearts Chapter 117 – The Deal
GillespieI spread the files across the table of the conference room in neat, controlled lines. Bank statements, transcripts, surveillance shots, and wait for Marcus to take a seat.He doesn’t. He stands by the door, arms folded, jaw tight, radiating stubbornness like body heat.“You’re late,” I say.“You’re lucky I’m here at all,” he fires back.There it is. The old Marcus Blackwood I remember from training ops. Brilliant, relentless, impossible. I’ve never seen him this frayed, though. Not in the field, not undercover, not even that time in Miami when the entire operation was one step away from collapse. This is different.This is Sophia Chen different.I tap the file nearest to him. “Marrin’s confession is strong. Strong enough to move on. But if we bring him in wrong, we lose everything. We need it to be airtight.”He pushes off the door and comes closer. “Airtight means dead if you’re not careful. He’s already twitching at shadows.”“That’s not my problem.”“It’s mine,” he says,
Undercover Hearts Chapter 116 – The Fallout
MarcusEvery floorboard groans when Marrin shifts his weight on the couch, every pipe in the wall ticks as if time itself is louder here. He sits hunched forward, chewing the inside of his cheek until it’s raw, one knee bouncing. He looks like he’s waiting for the bullet that’ll end him.I don’t blame him. Considering who the players are in this game, he probably is.Sophia sets her pen down, the filled notebook heavy on the table between us. Her fingers hover over the cover like she can hold all those words inside by sheer willpower. She doesn’t look at me. Not yet.I can still hear Marrin’s voice, jagged and frantic. Elena. Bainbridge. Numbers. Names. Each piece a shard that fit too neatly into the suspicions I’ve been ignoring.Sophia clears her throat. “We should move him.”Marrin snaps his head up, eyes bloodshot. “Move me where? Jesus, you don’t get it. There’s nowhere that’s safe.”“You can’t stay here,” she says evenly. “There’s a reason this is an abandoned safe house. It’s f
Undercover Hearts Chapter 115 – The Confession
MarcusThe safehouse is barely more than a forgotten apartment over a boarded-up hardware store. No heat, no furniture except a sagging couch and a table with one broken leg propped on a brick. But it’s quiet and secluded. No prying eyes, no neighbors awake at this hour.Marrin paces like a caged animal, sweat beading on his forehead despite the chill that seeps through the cracked windows. Sophia sits forward on the dilapidated couch, notebook open, pen in hand, every inch the journalist even when the air smells like mildew and dust.I lean against the wall, arms crossed, watching him wear a trench into the scuffed floorboards. He looks smaller than he did at the laundromat. Hunched, hollowed, stripped of whatever shine Bainbridge once put on him.“You said you wanted to talk,” Sophia says, calm but sharp. “So talk.”Marrin stops pacing, rubbing his face with shaking hands. “You don’t get it. Talking is what gets you killed.”Sophia doesn’t flinch. “Not talking already has you half-d
Undercover Hearts Chapter 114 — Sudden Collision
SophiaPatience has never been my strong suit. Not when there’s a lead burning a hole in my notebook and the FBI’s idea of “timely action” involves committee meetings and five layers of clearance.So when whispers circle back to me about Marrin, sighted at a dingy laundromat three blocks off the subway in a neighborhood no one pays attention to, I don’t wait for Marcus. I don’t wait for anyone. Which could be construed as irresponsible, but we all need hobbies.Preparation is half theater, half shield. I pull my blond wig out of its case, adjust it until the part falls just right. Glasses with plain lenses. The old press badge I’ve altered with a different last name. A burner phone in my pocket, and the tiny recorder tucked into my jacket lining. Tools, not weapons. The kind of armor I know how to wield.The laundromat hums with the white noise of machines, coin slots clinking, fluorescent lights buzzing like lazy hornets. It smells faintly of detergent and damp cotton. People keep th
Undercover Hearts Chapter 113 — The Net Tightens
MarcusThe thing about slipping back into old habits is how easy it feels, like shrugging on a jacket you swore you’d outgrown but still fits just fine.Sophia and I lost Marrin on our last outing. He ducked around a corner and disappeared from sight. But I have a tiny divot in the wall now and if I keep working at it, it may turn into a genuine foothold.I shouldn’t be doing this. Not officially. Rodriguez made it clear I’m benched, and Gillespie would love nothing more than to report back that Marcus Blackwood has finally let emotion scramble his operational sense. But old contacts don’t vanish, and instincts don’t switch off because the Bureau says so.So when I hear about a courier running envelopes for Marrin, I lean on a favor. Just enough pressure to get a name. The trick is to act like you’re still an invaluable part of the machine even when you’re not. Authority is half illusion, half memory. People hear my voice and still assume I have a right to demand answers. That works u
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