Zadie’s POV
The days dragged by like I was stuck in a sandstorm. Hot, blinding, and choking the life out of me. I moved through each hour like I wasn’t really there. Just going through the motions, dressed sharp, walking tall, but hollow inside.
I couldn’t stop thinking about him. His hands, his mouth, the way he touched me like he already knew every part of me, like I belonged to him. And then, just like that, he shut me out. No calls. No lingering glances. No tension between us, not even the bad kind. Just… cold. Like nothing happened. Like I didn’t matter, and I hated him for that. But I hated myself more, for letting it get to me.
“Zadie!” Chief Chris’ voice cracked through the silence like a whip, yanking me out of the fog.
I blinked, jerking upright at my desk. “Yes, sir?”
He stormed over, his heavy boots thudding like gunshots against the tiled floor. A thick manila folder slammed down in front of me, scattering papers at the edges.
“What the hell’s gotten into you lately?” he barked. “You used to move sharp. Now you’re floating through this place like a damn ghost in heels.”
“I’m fine,” I muttered, straightening up, swallowing the ache in my throat.
He snorted. “You look like someone gut-punched your brain. If you can’t pull it together, I’ll find someone who can.”
I nodded stiffly. “Won’t happen again.”
“It better not,” he snapped, narrowing his eyes. “You’ve got a week to wrap this. Our window’s closing fast.”
I left his office with my spine straight and nerves frayed. If he knew even half of what was going on behind my eyes, I’d be pulled off this mission in a heartbeat. No second chances. Lazaro Saventino was unraveling me from the inside out.
It wasn’t just the sex. It was the silence. The way he touched me like I was his, then looked at me the next day like I was a stranger in his world. And that would’ve been fine… if I were just any woman. But I wasn’t. I was the one sent to destroy him.
Now, every time I passed Kendall in the hallway, her eyes followed me like crosshairs, watching and waiting. She didn’t even pretend to hide it anymore.
“Morning, Officer Velastro,” she said one day, all sugar and venom as she brushed past.
I forced a tight smile. “You mean ‘Executive Assistant,’ don’t you?”
She leaned in, lips inches from my ear. “For now.” She gave me a smug look like she already knew how this would end and it wouldn’t be with me on top.
I returned to my desk, ready to shove her voice out of my head when I stopped mid-step. There it was. A plain, cream-colored envelope sitting neatly in the center of my workspace. That wasn’t there five minutes ago.
My pulse kicked. I scanned the floor, no one was looking. No one was suspicious. But something wasn’t right. That sixth sense, that prickle at the back of my neck, someone had been here. Watching.
I picked it up slowly. Peeled the flap open with careful fingers.One photo. Grainy, black and white. Taken from a distance but still clear enough to make my stomach drop. It was me.
Leaning in close to my handler behind a bar three nights ago. The angle, the timing and whoever took it knew exactly what they were doing.
“No…” I whispered, my throat going tight. “Shit.”
I glanced around again, every instinct screaming that someone was still nearby. But everyone looked normal. Typing. Talking. Unaware. I slid the photo back in, hands damp with sweat. Whoever left it wasn’t just threatening me. This was a message.The game had shifted. I wasn’t just undercover anymore, I was exposed. And someone wanted me to know it.