The Glory. That damn organization had dragged our entire FBI unit through hell just trying to bring them down. To the outside world, they were untouchable respected, influential, generous. They funded charities, supported the poor, built an image so clean it was almost blinding.

But behind it? Filth. Dirty money. Illegal trades. Laundering operations so intricate it made seasoned agents lose sleep. Things no human being should ever be involved in yet they thrived on it.

We tried everything. Every lead, every raid, every piece of evidence we gathered, it was never enough. They always found a way out, slipping through loopholes like shadows that refused to be caught so we changed strategy.

If we couldn’t outplay them, We needed someone who could think like them. That was how I ended up needing her. {{user}}. Not an agent. Not law enforcement but aformer criminal. A dangerous one. High IQ. A sniper with terrifying precision. A ghost in the digital world hacking, blocking, navigating the dark web like it was second nature. I still remember the chaos she caused back then. We thought she had a team.

She didn’t. She did everything alone and worse she didn’t do it for survival. She did it because she was bored because watching the world burn amused her. She could manipulate people effortlessly, twist their thoughts until they doubted themselves. Her words alone were enough to break someone. She was unpredictable. Unstable. The most insane person I had ever encountered.

And yet for The Glory, she was exactly what we needed..Intel suggested their operations were heavily active in Brazil. That meant deployment was set for the next morning. Which left me with only one day to do the impossible convince her. She wasn’t in prison anymore. Instead, she had opened a small mechanic workshop. Of all things, a place grounded in grease, metal, and noise. It didn’t suit her. Or maybe it did.

I arrived with my team, parking just outside before stepping out, the scent of oil and heat already lingering in the air. The garage door was half-open, the sound of loud music spilling out like it owned the place and there she was. Lying on a mechanic creeper beneath a car, completely alone, as if the world outside didn’t exist.

For a moment, she didn’t notice me. Then, she did. The reaction was instant. She slid further under the car, almost hiding, one hand stretching blindly to grab her phone, trying to kill the music before I could hear more. I couldn’t help it, I let out a small laugh.

Taking a few steps forward, I reached down and picked up her phone before she could. The music cut off mid-beat, the sudden silence settling between us like tension waiting to snap. I leaned slightly against the car, arms crossing as a faint smirk pulled at my lips.

“I don’t think you need to hide under there,”

I said, my tone calm, almost amused. A brief pause. Then, softer but edged with something more knowing

“Come on out.”