Unfit for Love

Chapter 9

Angelina's POV

"Dione"

The voice from last night's call keeps replaying in my head, that voice – sinfully deep – had stunned me in a way no man ever had.

The meeting notification pops up on my laptop screen. I join the call, as usual, the video cameras are off for security reasons. This site was solely designed for meetings of Shadow members, and knowing Tech, she doesn't do anything less than perfect.

"Di," a gruff voice cuts through the silence. It's Das sir, his voice as weathered as the years. I haven't seen him in person since the last Russian mission, four years ago.

"Yes, sir," I respond, my voice steady. Das sir is the man who took me in, trained me, transformed me into the weapon I am today. But trust is a fragile thing, and I know better than most how little to trust even him.

"You need to return to India," he declares, his tone as direct as ever. No preamble, no explanation. Classic Das sir.

"I can't. We are so close to catching Boris," I argue. Catching Boris means getting one step closer to dismantling the drug market in India.

"The HQ does not want to deal with any kind of geopolitical mess right now. The DEA is after him; let the USA handle it," he says, his voice laced with finality.

"The DEA is a law enforcement agency. They're not going to plot his capture. Unless he's already in the country, which is highly unlikely," I counter, frustration creeping into my voice. They might be better equipped, but we're on the ground, we have the intel.

"That's not your concern. HQ has denied permission for the mission. You need to lay low until further notice. At most, I'll give you a chance to stay and observe from afar," he says, the last two words dripping with meaning. I understand the unspoken command: capture Boris without anyone knowing.

"Yes, sir," I reply, my voice flat and with that, he ends the call. I have always done underground work for him. That's the only reason he picked and trained me. He found me when I was sixteen, and gave me a new life, a new identity, only to be used as a weapon. I know this is for the country, but my sixteen-year-old self wanted to be known, wanted to have a home. Das Sir has sent me on missions with a 0.5% success rate. He doesn't care. He trained us both for the same reason... BOTH...

I hurriedly get up, pushing my thoughts to the back of my mind. I need to contact Stefano. Why did he ask if I knew Boris, and who was that sin-voiced person?

I quickly freshen up and head downstairs, only to find Arie near the kitchen counter where I left her yesterday, typing something on her laptop. Her headphones are still on when I reach her.

"Arie," I call out, but she doesn't hear me. I slowly and quietly move one side of her headset aside and scream into her ear. She jumps in surprise.

"You scared me," she complains.

"I was trying to get your attention," I retort.

"Oh, come on, you're the captain of India's most crucial intelligence team," she teases.

"Oh yes, and here I thought I was your personal cook."

"Ahh, stop that," she sighs. "I have summarized a report from the drive you gave me to send to HQ, but there are a few things I need you to look at." She looks tired. I know she must have gathered more than necessary. I am about to tell her to rest when she says, "But before anything," she looks me straight in the eyes, "I'm hungry. Make me something."

I give her my most exasperated look. "You said you are my personal chef," she reminds me.

I sigh. "What do you want?" I open the fridge to find something. "Will cereals and toast work for you?" She scrunches her nose in that classic Arie expression of disapproval.