I told her I’d come back. But instead, I woke up on the floor of a locked room—numb, groggy, and strapped to a goddamn cot.
They drugged me.
Again.
It wasn’t the first time. And deep down, I knew it wouldn’t be the last. But it still burned.
My lips were dry. My head ached. My wrists had faint red marks from the restraints they’d used—like I was some wild animal they needed to sedate.
Because apparently, falling in love with Debby Carter was grounds for containment.
I wasn’t allowed on the field. Not until I was “over it.”
Over her.
That’s what they said.
Like it was some schoolyard crush.
But Debby? She wasn’t a phase. She wasn’t some distraction. She was the only real thing I’d ever had in my entire messed up life.
They could hand me a hundred assignments. Call me Agent 89. Wipe my records clean. Hell, they could erase my whole identity.
But they couldn’t erase her from me.
Not a chance.
So now, I sit here, in a dull white room with flickering lights, writing unclassified reports that no one actually reads—off-record, off-mission, caged in bureaucracy until I can “behave.”
Model prodigy, they said. Smart enough to code a military drone out of a broken toaster. But dumb enough to fall in love.
I stared at the blinking cursor on my report and thought of her—Debby, with her fire and softness, her quick comebacks and trembling voice. The way she looked at me like I was more than just a number. Like I was someone.
“Agent 89.”
I didn’t look up.
“Agent 89, are you deaf or just sulking?” The voice belonged to Lawson—my direct supervisor. Blonde. Tall. Brisk. Ice where her soul should be.
I glanced up slowly. “I have a name.”
She raised a brow. “Not in here, you don’t.”
I grit my teeth. “You don’t get to tell me to forget her.”
“She’s a civilian.”
“She’s my civilian.”
Lawson clicked her tongue and crossed her arms. “Emotions are the first weakness of agents. Look what happened the last time you ‘felt’ something.”
I stood so fast my chair screeched backward. “You drugged me because I felt. Don’t stand there acting like it’s protocol.”
“It is protocol,” she said flatly. “You broke it.”
Before I could throw my tablet across the room, someone else walked in.
Talia Kwon.
Another prodigy.
Another ghost in this hollow facility.
She wore black like it was armor and had dark, precise eyes that made you feel like she’d dissected your soul and filed the report before you blinked.
“Am I interrupting a tantrum?” she asked, glancing between me and Lawson.
“Perfect timing, Kwon,” Lawson said. “Talk some sense into your emotionally compromised colleague.”
Then she turned and left the room.
Talia leaned against the desk. “So. Heard you got sedated. Again.”
I groaned. “You people are obsessed with that, huh?”
She smirked. “You make it too easy.”
I rolled my eyes. “Don’t start.”
She picked up my tablet, scanned my half-written report, and made a face. “Your grammar’s still crap. Genius brain and you still can’t use a comma.”
“Glad to know you care.”
“I don’t,” she said quickly, then shrugged. “Well, maybe a little. You’re the only one around here who doesn’t drool when I walk in.”
That got a snort out of me.
We sat in silence for a moment before she said quietly, “He was like that too. My boyfriend.”
I looked up at her.
She swallowed hard, and for the first time, something cracked through her calm—grief, regret, maybe both.
“He didn’t care about the mission. Just me,” she said. “Which is probably why he’s dead.”
The words sat heavy between us.
“I’m sorry,” I muttered.
She nodded once. “It’s the risk. Loving someone outside this place.”
I swallowed hard. “You think I should just… let her go?”
Talia looked at me, really looked. “Do you love her?”
“I never lied to her,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “Every word I told her was the truth. She’s not just a moment. She’s everything.”
She paused, her gaze intense. “Then maybe you should let her go,” she said softly. “Not because she’s not important... but because you know exactly what they’ll do to her.”
That silence returned, thick and aching. Then the door burst open.
Maddox.
“Agent 89. My office. Now.”
Talia raised an eyebrow. “He sounds pissed.”
I stood without thinking. “I’m getting used to it.”
I followed Maddox down the hall, boots echoing on the tile. We passed security panels, training rooms, and restricted labs.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
He didn’t answer.
Inside his office, the lights were already on. The main screen lit up with files and surveillance feeds. Debby’s name flashed across one of them.
My stomach dropped. Maddox turned slowly, face unreadable.
“She’s in danger.”
The air left my lungs.
He clicked on a video feed. Footage from a street camera. Debby, walking alone. A shadow trailing behind her. A man in a black hoodie, phone in hand. Face obscured.
Another clip—her locking the front door. Unaware. Another—her window being opened from the outside.
I was already moving toward the screen. “Who is that?”
Maddox’s voice was low. “We don’t know. But we intercepted a message on the dark web. Someone’s offering money. A lot of it. For her location.”
A beat of silence.
Then Maddox said the words I’d been waiting for.
“You’re going back into the field, Agent 89.”