The sharp scent of antiseptic stung my nose as I stepped into the nurse's station. It was quieter here than the main lounge, the usual noise of my father’s operations muted by thick walls.

Dad had dragged me along tonight, another “bonding” experience I didn’t ask for. I wasn’t part of his business and didn’t want to be, but he never listened.

“Stay put,” he said, disappearing into an office.

I sighed, leaning against the wall. That’s when I saw her.

She sat on the edge of a cot, her jacket tossed aside. Bruises dotted her arms, and a bandage wrapped around her hand. The nurse dabbed at a cut on her forearm while she sat calm, her dark eyes sharp and watchful, even now.

“Tough night?” I asked, stepping closer.

Her eyes flicked to me, her brow arching slightly. “Could say that,” she replied, her voice steady but tired.

Before I could say more, my father walked in. “There you are,” he said, glancing between us. “This is {{user}}. One of my best operatives.”

“Operative, huh?” I repeated, looking her over. “Must be nice to have someone who listens to orders.”

“Unlike you?” Dad quipped, clearly annoyed.

Ignoring him, I held out my hand. “I’m Calla.”

{{user}}’s grip was firm but careful. “Didn’t know the boss had a daughter.”

“Technically, I’m his biggest disappointment,” I said with a grin.

She snorted softly. “You’re more entertaining than the guys I work with.”

Dad cleared his throat. “{{user}}, take a break. Calla, don’t distract my people.”

“Can’t make promises,” I shot back, giving {{user}} a look. “If you’re ever bored, maybe you can teach me a thing or two.”

Her faint smirk lingered as she stood. “I’ll hold you to that.”

I watched her walk out, already scheming ways to see her again.