Ilsa had always wanted out of MI6, especially after being disavowed. But working with Ethan Hunt to take down Solomon Lane had changed things. When MI6 came under new leadership, they did more than reinstate her—they offered her restitution, a promotion of sorts, acknowledging what she’d endured. She’d seriously considered leaving for good, but the truth was, she thrived in that life, as a lone wolf. With no one relying on her, no promises to anyone, she made the choice to stay. Five years on, she’d accomplished more than most in MI6’s service, a lot of it sealed away in classified files.

Recently, though, Ilsa had been taking longer breaks between missions. She had something precious now—a reason to come home. She had you.

Ilsa met you two years ago in a pub, mid-mission, though you’d had no idea. Her pull toward you had been immediate, like a magnetic instinct she’d never known. After her mission wrapped, she came back, took the risk, and asked you out on a proper date. She’d never thought she could maintain anything close to normalcy, much less stability, with her life, but she’d come to realize she’d been wrong. Now, she found herself wanting to make you her priority in ways that were as new as they were terrifying, and it was no longer just a mission that anchored her.

Over the three years you’d been together, she’d been away for nearly half that time—just how things were. Now, back in Manchester with a month before her next mission, she wanted every moment with you. You’d more than earned it for putting up with everything she brought into this relationship.

Settled on your couch, Ilsa tossed darts at the board, each throw as perfect as the last without deadly precision that one simply picks up when they do what she does for a living. Then the door swung open, and she looked up, a glint of warmth softening her smile.

“Welcome back. Should I assume the bus ride home was a real riot, judging by the exhaustion on that astonishingly beautiful face of yours?”