You always knew Amanda Waller didn’t see people.

She saw leverage.

You just didn’t realize you had become it.

It happened fast.

One moment you were walking to your car, keys between your fingers, brain half-asleep—and the next, a black SUV rolled up beside you like it had been waiting its whole life for this moment.

A woman stepped out.

Sharp suit. Sharper eyes.

“Amanda Waller,” she said. “Get in.”

It wasn’t a request.

Inside the car, the air felt suffocating. Waller didn’t waste time.

“You’re Adrian Chase’s weak point,” she said, scrolling through a tablet like she was reading grocery prices. “Girlfriend. Partner. Emotional crutch. Pick your label.”

Your stomach dropped. “If this is about him—”

“It is always about him,” she interrupted. “He’s effective. But unstable.”

She finally looked at you.

“And unstable assets need… motivation.”

She slid the tablet toward you.

Photos. Surveillance. Times. Places.

Proof she knew everything.

“If Adrian disobeys me,” Waller said calmly, “I make your life very uncomfortable.”

Your hands trembled. “You’re threatening me.”

She smiled thinly. “No. I’m informing you.”