Chapter 1
“You look like shit this morning.”
That is not what you want to hear after you’ve been overseas for months on an undercover assignment that unintentionally led to multiple civilian deaths—which is now under international investigation.
“Thanks, Ella,” I reply, throwing the strap of my bag across my desk chair and falling into it.
“Can I get you a coffee?” she asks a bit more hesitantly.
I nod, staring at the blank computer screen in front of me. “I’ll need a gallon of it.”
When I don’t hear movement, I turn to face her. She’s studying me.
“I’m sorry, Nova,” she says cautiously, ignoring my attempt at keeping the situation light.
“Thanks,” I repeat, returning my gaze to the blank computer screen before me, willing my fingers to turn it on.
I’m too much of a coward to do it.
“Can I get you anything else?” Ella asks.
“A dismissal of my trial?” I ask miserably.
She doesn’t say anything right away, probably trying to gauge my mood and wondering if I’ll break down in tears.
“It’ll work out, Nova. It always does,” she tries.
I huff. “Not this time. But thanks for the vote of confidence.”
I switch on my computer, the brightness causing me to squint. I stare at the hundreds of new messages in my inbox. Scrolling through them, I land on the trial date set for six months from now—the trial that will determine my fate as a field agent for the CIA.
I find another message from my director, sent an hour ago. There’s no subject line. I hesitate before clicking on the message, already tensing.
Meet me in my office immediately upon arrival this morning.
Shit.
Pushing back my chair, I stand, straightening my black blazer over a simple white blouse. My black pants are tight-fitting, and I paired them with simple red heels that click as I slowly make my way to the director’s office. My heart beats almost as fast as it does when I’m in the field.
It’s an odd thing to be as fearful of a job as facing the possibility of death. But this position is all I have and all I’ve known for the entirety of my adult life.
I knock lightly, hearing soft voices on the other side. The rustling of clothes and the soft pad of shoes make me step back from the handle. A short male I don’t recognize opens the door. He has thinning hair, a sharp nose, and a sneer that would make most cower.
He stops and blatantly assesses me, running his gaze down my body from my head to my toes, lingering far too long on my chest.
“Apologies for the intrusion.” I don’t hide my disdain. My mouth turns down in a scowl.
He doesn’t say anything as he returns his attention to my face, simply waving me off.
I almost punch the man but fear that won’t help my trial. Instead, I grit my teeth and enter the office. The man leaves without another glance in my direction, not bothering to shut the door behind him.
“I know that look, Nova,” my director says without even taking his eyes off his computer screen.
I tilt my head. “What look is that, Dec?”
“The one you give when you want to stick a knife through someone’s throat.” Declan finally tears his eyes away from the screen, offering a slight and all-too-familiar smirk.
“That obvious?”
