Zadie’s POV
The envelope wasn’t marked. There was no return address, no name. Just there, like a silent threat, waiting for me on my desk. I stared at it for what felt like hours, the edges already worn from my trembling fingers. When I finally opened it, I swore the air left my lungs.
A photo. Crisp. Perfectly angled. Me, in a black hoodie, seated across from my handler in a dimly lit café downtown. My eyes were focused, my mouth mid-sentence. There was no mistaking it, it was me. Zadie Hollis. Not Marina Velastro. Not the perfect secretary, not the compliant pawn. They know.
I bolted the office door behind me and dropped the photo back onto my desk. My mind was spinning, heart punching against my ribs like it wanted out. Who took the photo? Who left it? And why now?
I racked my brain for suspects, and only one name came forward, louder than the rest, Kendall. She had access. She had a motive. And she had always looked at me like she was waiting for me to slip. I waited until lunch, I counted every second until she strutted out with her purse on her arm and that smug little smirk like she owned the place. Then I moved.
The office was colder than usual, bathed in pale afternoon light. I shut the door quietly and went straight to her desk. Her drawers were locked, of course, but she underestimated me. Everyone did. I slipped a hairpin from my bun, twisted it with practiced fingers, and heard the soft click of the lock giving way.
The folder was red. It sat there like it wanted to be found. I pulled it out slowly, knowing whatever was inside would change everything. And it did. Top file: Zadie Hollis. My face, my name, and my life. Laid bare on glossy printouts.
Underneath it; surveillance logs, phone call transcripts, snippets of conversations I didn’t even remember having. Whoever compiled this had been watching me for weeks. Maybe longer. I barely registered the burning behind my eyes. My vision blurred as panic clawed up my throat. I reached for the lighter in my pocket, fingers shaking. One flick and I could- Knock. Knock. I froze. No one was supposed to be back yet. My hand dropped to the gun at my waist.
“Zadie?” Kendall’s voice on the other side of the door. Calm. Too calm. “I forgot my tablet.”
My heart kicked into overdrive. I glanced back at the folder, still wide open on her desk. My fingers itched to torch it. But I couldn’t move fast enough. Before I could react, click. I turned… too slow. The cold press of metal kissed my temple.
“Don’t move.” A man said, steady. I felt his breath, smelled the faint scent of tobacco and mint. When I tried to peek and check his face… It was Luca, Lazaro’s bodyguard.
“You’ve been caught.” His words were deep and rough.
My gun was still in my hand. My finger twitched near the trigger. But the weight of his barrel against my skin told me everything, this wasn’t a bluff. And then I saw Lazaro standing in the doorway. His suit immaculate, his eyes locked on mine. His silence was louder than any accusation.
He threw several papers in front of me, scattering them across the table. On top was a clear photograph. Me. Dressed in a police uniform, standing tall, eyes sharp and alert.
“Zadie Hollis,” he said coldly. “Twenty-seven years old. An undercover cop. Countless successful missions under your belt. And your current assignment?” He paused, his gaze burning into mine. “To bring me down.”
I’d seen that look before. On men who decided who lived and who disappeared. I was exposed. And I wasn’t sure if I’d make it out of that room alive.