The Night Agent: A Novel Novels & Stories

Nick's p.o.v; Finally, I completed my work and got out of the workplace successfully. When I attempted to book a cab as usual, I realised that my phone had been turned off. Now I'm looking for a bus station for a bus to head to my place. Anaheim is experiencing a frigid night it seems. The streets were illuminated with bright lights from billboards and shops, while others flickered with dim lights, causing me a headache. It's been three weeks since that night, and I know that seeing her again is impossible, but I'm still hoping to see her. It's crazy, I know.

the leader asked bluntly. Alex remained silent, his eyes avoiding his leader’s. He knew what could happen if he mentioned the book Scarlett had. It was the very book they had been searching for for years, a relic that held secrets about the supernatural world—secrets none of them wanted to fall into the wrong hands. The revelation would condemn Scarlett and lead to the destruction of the book along with her; the punishment for possessing it was death. So he took a deep breath and simply shook his head. “It’s nothing,” he replied in a controlled voice, while the echo of the truth pounded inside him.

The remnants of someone’s bedroom that was long forgotten about crashed around us. We screamed in terror. I was beginning to fear the house was going to fall down on us. We continued to hear the sound of slamming and fighting happening through the house. I was clawing at everything to try and find an escape. Out of nowhere, a book dropped in my lap. It was old. It looked like it used to be cream colored with purple lace. This matches Gabrielle’s style. I saw a key lock. Suddenly, a key dropped from the binding of the book. It was a diary of some kind. I think Gabrielle’s spirit or someone wants me to have this. I shoved it into my bag and peaked out the door. I could tell it was still not s

"Team Bravo in position, awaiting your signal. No unexpected movements." The rooftop, his temporary fortress, became a stage for the delicate dance between shadows and secrets. The distant hum of the city below and the rhythmic patter of raindrops provided a backdrop to the clandestine conversation unfolding in the night. The city slept, unaware of the figures moving in the shadows, and Isaac, the undercover agent, stood as a silent guardian at the precipice of action.

But my body had never been good at following orders when desire crept in. I set the mug aside and stood, crossing to the window. Snow continued to fall outside, soft and relentless. Streetlights cast pale halos on the white-covered pavement. Somewhere in this frozen city, Nikolai Volkov was going about his night, unaware that an American agent had crossed an ocean to slip beneath his armor. I pressed my palm to the glass and felt the cold bite through my skin again. My breath fogged the pane. “Slow,” I whispered to the empty room. “One step at a time.”

Ten minutes to rewrite the game or burn trying. Agent Hammer stood by the big window of the CIA safe house, coffee cup gripped tight, steam curling faint in the cold room. Outside, the city rolled on—cars honking, lights flashing, people laughing like nothing was wrong. Inside, it was a chokehold—tension so thick it pressed on your chest. His crew moved sharper now, eyes darting, hands hovering near holsters since Monroe’s call lit a fuse.

The night wore on and the agent remained on guard, trying to clench his ears and gaze at any movement that seemed suspicious, even though his colleague's boisterous snoring sounded a little distracting from his concentration. Suddenly a movement as fast as lightning that he was too late to notice made him alert. Unfortunately, he was caught off guard. A syringe had suddenly passed through the open window, grabbed by a dexterous hand and stuck in his neck. His eyes suddenly widened in shock before finally closing, losing consciousness. His companion who was still fast asleep was a very easy target. Just seconds to inject the anesthetic and bring him to sleep deeper.

She had ripped off the bandages off my healing wounds and poured salt into them. "You can stand watch outside. I'll go in now" The agent nodded and made to leave but I asked, "And your name is...?" "We don't have names but a title, Your Highness, I'm Shadow Agent 45 and will lay down my life to serve yours" "Goodnight, Agent 45" I turned away and left him. This night was supposed to be fun but it ended up in disaster. When I entered my room, I took a cold shower to calm my nerves before rolling my naked body into the comfortable bed and wrapping the warm duvet around myself.

*NIGHT* 8:00 PM Back in the room. Safe. Nico and I didn’t talk for an hour. Too much. Then: How was it he asked. Hard I said. But I did it. Yeah he said. You were amazing. You didn’t break. Neither did you. *CHECK IN* 10:00 PM Agent Collins: Day 1 done. 4 more witnesses tomorrow. Then it’s closing. After she left: My name is Aria Bennett. And today I told 12 strangers the worst night of my life.

Isabella Isabella stood in the hospital corridor at dawn, her blood-stained emerald gown replaced by borrowed scrubs, facing Agent Morrison across a small table covered in files and recording equipment. Outside the window, New York was waking up—oblivious to the night's devastation, the bodies, the betrayals, the explosion that had killed Agent Chen. Dante was two doors down, under medical observation. Furious. Demanding Isabella stop negotiating without him. She could hear him arguing with the agents keeping him in his room.