Undercover Hate

Chapter Two: My "I Knew You Were Trouble" Moment

I'm halfway down the street before I realize how much my hands are shaking. My entire body feels like it's vibrating, my mind racing faster than I can keep up with. Adrenaline. I hate this feeling. My heart's still pounding like I just sprinted a mile, but I know it's not from the running. It's from how badly I screwed up.

The mission wasn't supposed to go like that. Geoffrey St. James was supposed to be an easy target, just a rich guy with too many secrets and not enough brains to protect them. I'd observed, like I was told. But then things escalated. Then Ace showed up.

Ace. God, just thinking about him makes my blood boil. Always so damn calm, like he's got everything under control, while I'm flailing like an idiot. And that smirk? That infuriating, self-satisfied smirk he wears every time he sees me struggling—like he's above it all. Like he's better.

I can't shake the image of him, standing there in the middle of the chaos, looking completely unbothered by the wreckage I left behind. He always gets under my skin, but tonight was worse. I felt like I was in over my head from the start, and then seeing him there—perfect and collected—it just pushed me over the edge. I acted out of instinct, not strategy, and now everything's a mess.

I finally reach my house, my body still buzzing with residual adrenaline. The door slams behind me, and I lean against it, taking a few deep breaths, trying to calm down. My mind's still replaying every second of the mission—every punch, every wrong decision, every time Ace got the upper hand.

Why the hell did they put me on this mission alone? I wasn't ready for this. Anastasia must've known that. She's the one who threw me into the fire, and now I'm supposed to act like everything's fine. Like I didn't just botch my first field mission?

My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I pull it out to see a message from Ava in comms.

"Debrief with Director Anastasia tomorrow at 0900. Be prepared."

Great. Just what I need—a face-to-face with Anastasia to remind me of how badly I screwed up.

I toss my phone onto the couch and head straight for the shower. I need to wash off the night—literally and figuratively. The hot water scalds my skin, but it's exactly what I need to snap myself out of the spiraling self-pity I'm sinking into. I try to scrub away the frustration, the embarrassment, the failure. But it sticks to me like glue.

After a while, I give up, stepping out of the shower and wrapping a towel around myself. I catch my reflection in the mirror and barely recognize the woman staring back at me. Wet hair clings to my face, my eyes are red-rimmed from stress and exhaustion, and there's a bruise forming on my cheek where one of the guards got in a lucky punch.

This is what being a field agent looks like, huh?

I laugh bitterly to myself, shaking my head. If this is what I signed up for, I'm not sure I'm cut out for it.

I dress quickly in a pair of sweatpants and an old hoodie, then flop down on the couch, staring up at the ceiling. My mind's still racing, but now it's filled with thoughts of tomorrow's debrief. What the hell am I supposed to tell Director Anastasia? That I let my emotions get the best of me? That I lost control because of Ace?

The thought of explaining myself to her makes me want to throw up. She's going to be livid. I can already see the disappointment in her eyes, the clipped tone she uses when someone's really let her down. And I know she'll tear into me about Ace. He's the golden boy of the agency, the one who can do no wrong. Meanwhile, I'm just the screw-up from gadgets who couldn't even handle a simple observation mission.

I sit up, grabbing my phone and typing out a message to the Director, my fingers trembling slightly.

"Requesting a meeting, ma'am. I need to talk."