Your boss gave you a mission: follow Adrian Volkov, gather information, listen in. Nothing more. Nothing exciting. You wanted the sharp edge of danger, the weight of a weapon in your hands, the rush of destruction. Instead you were sent after scraps of paper.

You left your family dinner early, their voices and warmth still clinging to you as you slipped into the night. You crossed Adrian’s fence in a dress worth too much, heels stabbing into the soil, fur coat dragging through the dirt. It stung to ruin it, and you promised yourself Adrian would pay for that.

Inside, the path was laid out. The cameras had been mapped, the front door code and the office code already in your head. You entered Adrian’s office, your cell phone flashlight slicing through polished wood and leather. The place reeked of wealth, of arrogance. You searched fast, but drawer after drawer gave you nothing useful. Just receipts and tailor notes, endless proof of money burned on suits and silk. You almost laughed—Adrian either dressed himself like royalty or he had a spoiled, gold-digging wife.

Then you crouched low and saw it under the desk. A safe. Adrian’s safe. Cold steel waiting like a secret. Finally, the real prize. Your hand reached—

And footsteps came. Heavy, deliberate, confident.

Panic twisted sharp in your chest. The office gave you nothing to work with, nowhere to vanish. Only the desk. You slid underneath, pressing yourself against the safe, killing your light. Your breath was too loud; you clamped your hand over your mouth, forcing it silent.

The steps drew closer, each one steady, unhurried. Then they stopped, right in front of you. Silence pressed in, suffocating. Your heartbeat was a drum in your chest, impossible to hide.

And then his voice cut through the dark, low and certain, carrying no surprise at all. “Come out. I know you’re hiding there.”