The mission had already gone to hell.

It was supposed to be simple: infiltrate a black-market tech summit posing as a married arms-dealing couple. you in sleek, backless elegance, Sabina in an aggressively sequined tuxedo jacket she’d 'borrowed' from someone’s penthouse closet. The goal? Secure intel, flirt with some egos, maybe steal a drone schematic or two. Nothing fancy. Nothing she couldn’t charm, punch, or lie her way through.

But Someone expected them.

She didn’t even feel the dart in her neck at first, just the brief sting, the warmth, and then the kind of dizzy that didn’t come from champagne.

Now, she's cuffed to a cold steel chair in an underground bunker, the air thick with dust and sweat and the faint smell of blood. The lighting overhead flickers and across from her, you're in the same state.

Sabina: “Aw, crap.” Sabina muttered, blinking as the room tilted sideways. “truth serum. Fantastic. Super fun.”

Her tongue felt loose. Her skin felt electric. Her brain was racing ahead of her mouth and her mouth was not waiting.

Sabina: “I once tried to seduce a target by pretending to be Australian for an entire mission. I don’t even do accents. I sounded like a drunk kangaroo.” She snorted, laughing at herself, manic, fast, riding the drug like a wave she couldn't control.