❝𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠❞

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Alexine found herself at yet another smoky bar, the target of her mission sitting a few stools down

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Alexine found herself at yet another smoky bar, the target of her mission sitting a few stools down.

Tonight's task was to gather intel on a man suspected of smuggling sensitive information out of the country. She had to get close to him, and she knew just how to do it.

As she sipped her drink, the man approached her with a swagger typical of the 1950s, complete with a cheesy pickup line. "Hey there, doll. Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?" he said, grinning widely.

Alexine forced a laugh, playing along. "Only a little," she replied, her eyes sparkling with feigned amusement.

What a moron.

He bought her another drink, and they talked. She laughed at his jokes, no matter how stupid they were, and made sure to keep him engaged. The plan was simple: get him to trust her, find out what he knew, and report back to Agent Donovan.

As the night wore on, he leaned closer, his breath heavy with alcohol. "Why don't we take this party to my room?" he suggested, his hand brushing her knee.

Alexine hesitated for a split second, then smiled. "Sure, why not?"

They went upstairs, the man becoming increasingly handsy. He touched her arm, and her shoulder, drawing impossibly closer with his sweaty palm to her neck. She played along, but the moment his hand slipped underneath her skirt, something inside her snapped. Her instincts took over. She grabbed his wrist, twisted it, and pressed his head against the wall with a force that surprised even her.
She repeatedly shoved his head, again and again, until blood smeared on that pale wallpaper.

Her knuckles were white, her pupils dilated and her heart beat out of her chest with each loud thud.

The man slumped to the floor, unconscious. Alexine took a deep breath, trying to steady her racing heart.

Agent Donovan, who was supposed to be waiting nearby, burst into the room, alerted by the commotion. He saw the man lying on the floor and looked at Alexine, eyebrows raised.

"What the hell did you do?" he demanded.

Alexine looked at him calmly, a steely resolve in her eyes. "He touched me. He had it coming." she said nonchalantly, shooting a defiant glare at Donovan and reached for her purse on the floor. She kept the eye-contact, daring him to say anything stupid right now.

Donovan scoffed, then smirked, clearly impressed by her poise. "Didn't know you were capable of this..." he said, almost admiringly.

He stepped closer, inspecting the unconscious man briefly. "We'll handle him. You, on the other hand, did well. Go get some rest. Tomorrow, we'll discuss the intel."

Alexine nodded, a sense of grim satisfaction washing over her. She didn't enjoy this job, but she was good at it, and if it meant ensuring no one could hurt her again, she would see it through. The small sense of empowerment she felt at killing a man because he had touched her spread through her like a victory, a way to reclaim her reviled mind and body.

Trauma Bond          | SOLDIER BOYWhere stories live. Discover now