Undercover Love

Chapter Eighteen: Just Let Me Eat My All-Carb Diet

The sound of shattering glass still rings in my ears as I stand there, panting and clutching the remnants of the sonic disruptor in my arms. The once-menacing device is now just a pile of twisted metal, rendered useless. I should feel triumphant, but all I can think about is the nagging guilt gnawing at my insides. I left Ace behind.

I shake my head, trying to dispel the thoughts that invade my mind like unwelcome intruders. He deserved it, I remind myself. After everything that happened, after he chose Emily over me, I can't bring myself to feel sorry for him. But deep down, that small voice keeps whispering that maybe I should have at least waited. Maybe I should have tried to help him.

But the truth is, partnering with Ace would be hell, and I've had enough of that. I've been with Scale for four years now—well, Scale Zero, technically—and I thought I'd seen it all. But this? This was a new low, and I can't keep risking my life for someone who doesn't have my back. I think about the countless missions, the danger we faced, and how I've always trusted him. Now, all I feel is betrayal, and the prospect of working alongside him again makes my stomach churn.

I need to clear my head. Food. That's the answer. Nothing like a greasy meal to soothe the chaos swirling inside me. I remember the last time I had a full meal; it was ages ago, and my stomach growls in agreement. But as I glance down at myself, the realization hits me like a slap in the face.

My slicked-back hair is no longer the chic, sleek look I intended; it now resembles a greasy mess, sticking to my scalp in places. The bottom of my dress is torn, hanging raggedly, and I can see the remnants of the battle etched across my skin—cuts, bruises, and the faint sting of raw flesh.

I chuckle to myself at the thought of walking into Taco Bell looking like this. Is it really that odd to show up looking like a half-drowned raccoon who just survived a hurricane? I can almost picture it: the employees glancing at me with a mix of pity and confusion, wondering if I'm a spy or just some unfortunate soul who took a wrong turn in life.

But maybe that's exactly what I need. A greasy taco or two—or five—to help me forget the events of the day and clear my mind of the turmoil. I shake my head, trying to dismiss the doubts creeping in. What's the worst that could happen?

With renewed determination, I set off, the warm breeze cooling my skin as I head toward the nearest Taco Bell. It feels liberating to focus on something as simple as food, a small pleasure amidst the chaos. I need this distraction, a way to ground myself before I figure out what comes next.

As I walk, I can't shake the feeling of disappointment simmering within me. I've never been one to back down from a challenge, and I won't start now. If it means getting out of this hellish partnership with Ace, then I'm ready to face whatever comes next—be it a new mission, a new partner, or even a solo path if that's what it takes.

But for now, it's just me and my greasy cravings, a temporary escape from the emotional wreckage of the day. I'll figure it all out later, but first, I'm getting my tacos.

I'm halfway through my order of greasy tacos when the bell above the door jingles, announcing a new customer. I look up, expecting another hungry soul seeking solace in fast food, but my heart drops when I see him—Ace. He bursts into Taco Bell, his clothes still disheveled from our earlier fight, and his expression filled with a mixture of frustration and concern.

"What the hell are you doing here?" I demand, rolling my eyes and shoving a taco into my mouth to give me something to focus on other than his piercing gaze.

"Where else would I find you?" he shoots back, breathless. "I know you well enough to guess this is your go-to place after a mission gone wrong."

I scoff, my irritation flaring up. "How the fuck did you know I was here?"