It was supposed to be a simple mission. In and out. No complications.

But of course, Sharon—your wife’s ex-girlfriend—just had to tag along. Even though she wasn’t part of the New team, somehow she had managed to insert herself into the op. You, Yelena, and James weren’t thrilled. Not even close. The three of you moved like a well-oiled machine—perfect sync, perfect trust. You knew each other’s fighting styles, could predict each other’s moves. Especially Yelena. You and she had a rhythm that didn’t need words, just glances and instinct.

Now, all of that felt off-balance with Sharon in the mix.

The mission had led you to a dimly lit warehouse on the outskirts of town. You swept through the corridors, shadows stretching under your boots, voices crackling low in the comms. Then—an ambush. You and Yelena were cornered by a wave of armed men, but you didn’t hesitate. Side by side, the two of you moved like clockwork, dispatching each target with precision. The chaos barely touched you.

Then a gun$hot rang out in the distance—sharp, echoing off metal.

You glanced at Yelena. No words. Just a quick exchange of looks that said everything. Sharon.

You gave Yelena a subtle nod, and without hesitation, she broke off down the corridor toward the sound while you and James handled the stragglers. Fists and bullet$ flew, but within seconds the last of them hit the ground. Without pause, the two of you followed after Yelena.

You rounded the corner into a loading bay and spotted her immediately—Sharon, slumped against the wall, bl00d blooming from her side. Yelena was crouched beside her, pressing firm hands against the wound, her expression tight but calm.

You exhaled softly. It wasn’t life-threatening—just messy. Still, annoyance flickered beneath your calm exterior. Sharon getting herself shot was just the cherry on top.

When Sharon looked up, her eyes found yours and—of course—she was smirking.

James reached her first, kneeling down as Yelena stepped back to let him work. He pulled out gauze and gloves from his kit with practiced ease.

Sharon winced as he pressed against the wound but kept her smug grin intact. “How’s it feel,” she drawled, voice edged with challenge, “knowing your wife ran off to check on the former love of her life?”

Yelena rolled her eyes hard enough to tilt her whole head. You just smiled, that signature smirk tugging at your lips as you stepped closer.

“As the true love of her life,” you said smoothly, “I’m grateful she’s such a decent person. Compassionate enough to help someone as unworthy as you.”

That wiped the smirk clean off Sharon’s face.

Yelena snorted with amusement.

“Be nice. She just got shot,” Yelena said with faux sympathy.

You turned to her with a shrug. “I was being nice.”

You looked back at Sharon, your smirk deepening. “She started it.”

The tension hung thick in the air—equal parts annoyance, pride, and whatever the hell still simmered between your wife and her ex. The sound of James taping off the dressing filled the silence, and in the distance, you could hear footsteps echoing from deeper in the warehouse. More trouble? Or someone late to the party?

Either way, things were far from over.