A Fatal Accomplice

3.

QUINN'S P.O.V

"Ohh... something hurts." The pain was sharp and disorienting, throbbing through my body. I struggled to open my eyes; it felt like lifting weights with my eyelids. After what seemed like an eternity and several attempts, I managed to pry them open, only to be greeted by a blanket of darkness.
Then, without warning, an intense brightness flooded my vision. I squinted, the sudden light burning my retinas, and instinctively raised my hands to shield my eyes.

"Fucking hell," I muttered, the words barely escaping my parched lips. The light was blinding, overwhelming, and it took several moments before I could even begin to make sense of my surroundings.

"Oh, you're awake," exclaimed a woman with medium-length, fully gray hair, her voice tinged with surprise. Her white teeth gleamed as she offered a friendly smile, her eyes crinkling warmly at the corners. "Jay is in his office if you need him," she added, her tone inviting and reassuring.

I crumpled my face in confusion. "I'm sorry who?" I asked, trying to hide the sudden panic. Her smile widened, "Jadon Agreotti. He was supposed to be your last target but things went... south." Her smile dropped a little at the corners, "So whenever you're ready, you can go speak to him to sort all this out."

I slowly shook my head and tried to keep a friendly look on my face. If i had to get out of here in a hurry she might be able to help. "Thank you."

She flashed her smile once more before leaving the room, the door closing quietly behind her. I let out a breath I didn't even know I was holding and threw myself back to lie on the pillows.

My mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, each one more terrifying than the last, as I tried to anticipate what might happen next. After a few moments, I managed to narrow it down to three possible scenarios.

First, he might have brought me here to extract information about MI6, using whatever means necessary to get what he wanted.

Second, there was the chilling possibility that he intended to use me as a hostage, a pawn in some larger, more sinister game.

And finally, the most terrifying scenario of all crossed my mind: he could have brought me here to kill me and send a message, demonstrating just how far he was willing to go to achieve his goals.

I let out a sigh and sat up from the bed. "Well Quinn," I grumbled softly to myself, "This is how you die."

JADON'S P.O.V

Jay didn't speak. His eyes were a beautiful light, almost hazel brown and bottomless. HIs hair was slightly mussed on his forehead, and he looked as though he hadn't slept in days and he was head deep in paper work, getting more and more frustrated by the minute.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. "Come in." , my voice laced with exhaustion and anger. The door opened to reveal Quinn. All 5'2 inches of her. Her dark brown hair, in two messy pigtails, both if which bordered her face perfectly. She still had on her black cargo pants and white cropped tee, covered in blood and soot, but she was unmistakably still beautiful. Her face, covered in scrapes and bruises, still managed to take my breathe away.

"Thank you." She said lowly. Her voice didn't sound like it belonged to the most dangerous assassin of M16, it sounded like it belonged to a scared child, thanking a stranger for helping her save her cat from a tree. 'Was I scaring her?' I tried to put a more friendly look on my face and sat up.

"There's no need to thank me, in fact, i should be thanking you. I should have noticed before, but when I did, I knew you were the same girl from that cellar. The only one who helped him when everyone else was ready to deem him an outcast."

She tilted her head to the side, her face showing her evident confusion.

"Lupe Agreotti got accepted to M16 the same year you did, only difference is, he got in to do tech. The only person that year, that got in for that reason. On his first day, everyone was picking on him, everyone but you. You were the only one who defended him. So, thank you for helping my older brother Quinn."

I saw her dark brown eyes lighten with excitement. "You're Lupey's Brother?!?"

I let out a low chuckle and shook my head, 'yes'.

QUINN'S P.O.V

Lupe was my best friend, the kind of friendship that felt more like family. For nearly ten years, we were inseparable, sharing countless adventures, inside jokes, and moments of support that only true friends understand.

His sudden death shattered me, leaving a void that felt impossible to fill. I remember crying for days, the grief consuming me like a dark cloud.

In the aftermath of his passing, I found myself unable to connect with others. The thought of opening up to someone new felt like a betrayal to Lupe's memory.

I became a solo player, withdrawing from teamwork and collaborations. Trust, once a natural part of my life, now seemed like a distant, unattainable concept. The loss of Lupe changed me profoundly, and I built walls around myself to avoid the pain of potential loss again.

Now that I met his brother, a wave of grief crashed over me all at once, overwhelming and intense. Amidst the sorrow, confusion gnawed at my thoughts. The biggest question haunting my mind: was he truly gone?