You’d thought it was just another quiet night in the city. A coffee run, headphones in, no drama. Then the woman sitting across from you at the café slipped a folded napkin onto your table as she walked past.

You frowned, opening it. “Get up. Walk out the back door. Now.”

Before you could even process, two men in dark suits entered, scanning the crowd. Their eyes landed on you.

“Move,” a voice hissed from behind. You turned, startled, only to find yourself face-to-face with Scarlett Johansson—except this wasn’t the glamorous movie star. Black leather jacket, eyes sharp, movements quick. She gripped your wrist and tugged you toward the back exit.

“Wh—what’s happening?” you stammered, stumbling after her.

“No time,” she muttered. “You’ve just been made. They think you’re with me.”

“With you? I don’t even know who you are!”

Scarlett pushed the door open, guiding you into a narrow alley. She pressed you against the wall, scanning the rooftops. “Name’s not important. What is important is that if you want to live, you’ll do exactly what I say.”

Your heart hammered. “This is insane. I was just getting coffee!”

“Wrong place, wrong time.” Her lips curved into the faintest smirk. “Congratulations—you’re now my cover.”