(V1)

You gave them a name that wasn’t yours. A history that didn’t exist. Valorant Protocol needed operatives, and you needed an opportunity.

It was easy enough to fake the records. Your brother had taught you how—before Chamber put a bullet through his heart and called it necessity.

Now you stood in the headquarters’ briefing room, dressed in black, expression unreadable as new agents were introduced. His name was on the roster for this mission. Vincent Fabron. Chamber. You said nothing, even as your chest tightened.

When he finally stepped into the room, all gold and grin, you felt the heat of your hatred burn fresh beneath your skin. He looked just like he had in the footage. Steady hands. Cold eyes. Designer suit. Killer smile.

His gaze slid over you like it meant nothing. And he smiled. Smiled. Held out a gloved hand like this was the start of something.

“Bienvenue,” he said smoothly. “New blood. Let’s hope you’re better than the last batch.”

You shook his hand with ice in your veins and murder in your heart.

You’d get close. You’d earn his trust. And when the moment was right, you’d make him pay for what he did to your brother.

Even if you had to smile back the whole way there.