Chapter Text
June 29th, 5:30 AM
It had been one month and seventeen days since my last job. Forty-eight days of restless nights, unanswered calls, and wondering if I'd ever find my footing again. But today was different. Today marked the first step toward reclaiming my life.
A new city. A new job. An international gig, no less—travel, adventure, a complete shift from the life I'd left behind. It felt too sudden, like I was being pushed forward before I'd fully caught my breath. Yet, as I sat in the driver’s seat, fingers tightening around the wheel, I could feel it—something stirring beneath the anxiety. Maybe hope. Maybe just adrenaline.
The city stretched around me, waking up with the pale light of dawn. Sleek glass towers mirrored streaks of pink and gold from the rising sun. It was beautiful in a way that caught me off guard—clean, modern, and polished, a stark contrast to the cramped, gray skyline of the place I’d left behind. The air even smelled fresher here, carrying the faintest scent of rain from the night before.
As I navigated through the quiet streets, my thoughts drifted back to why I'd taken this job in the first place. Moving on was inevitable, I knew that, but I hadn’t expected it to happen like this. So far from everything I knew, so quickly.
Headquarters was only ten minutes from my new apartment, though I’d left earlier than necessary, nerves driving me to be over-prepared. The building came into view, a towering structure of steel and glass that seemed to cut into the sky. The logo above the entrance gleamed in the early light, stark and serious. My stomach tightened. This was it. No turning back.
I pulled into the lot and cut the engine, but for a long moment, I just sat there. Taking deep, measured breaths. My pulse hammered despite the calm morning.
You're ready. Just breathe. You're ready.
With one last exhale, I grabbed my bag, adjusted the lanyard around my neck, and stepped out.
The lobby was as pristine as the exterior, marble floors, cold lighting, sharp lines of glass and chrome. Everything about it screamed order. Control. A quiet hum of activity echoed off the walls as a few early risers milled around, mostly in tailored suits.
I approached the reception desk where two women sat, both absorbed in their screens. One had a headset on, speaking quietly into it, while the other typed with practiced efficiency.
Putting on my most professional smile, I stepped forward. “Good morning. I’m Grace Lopez. Here for Ms. Amos. First day.”
The receptionist barely glanced up, though her smile was polite. “Name and badge number, please?”
I adjusted the keycard hanging from my neck, heart skipping as I checked it. “Grace Lopez. Badge number 4007.”
She typed it in, her nails clicking against the keys. After a moment, she nodded. “You’re expected. Third floor, room 308. Elevator’s just around the corner.”
“Thank you.” I turned to leave but hesitated when she added, softer this time.
“Good luck. Ms. Amos is… particular. But you seem tough.”
Tough? I wasn’t so sure. But I nodded anyway. “Thanks for the heads-up.”
As I made my way to the elevator, I felt the words echo in my head. Particular? Not exactly a comforting descriptor.
The stainless steel doors slid open, and I stepped inside, pressing the button for the third floor. The doors closed with a soft chime, and as the elevator ascended, the weight in my chest pressed heavier.
Don't mess this up.
I checked my watch. 5:35 AM.
Damn it. Five minutes late already.
The elevator opened to a quiet, softly lit hallway. The kind where every sound felt amplified, from the hum of the air conditioning to the tap of my heels on the polished floor.
Room numbers lined the walls in neat progression. 302… 304… 306…
308.
I paused, smoothing out the creases in my blouse and giving the keycard one last nervous adjustment. Then, swallowing hard, I knocked twice.
A voice snapped from the other side, sharp and clipped. “Come in.”
I straightened, braced myself, and stepped inside.
The office was nothing like I’d expected. Larger, more imposing. High ceilings, cool lighting, and walls lined with perfectly arranged certificates, commendations, and awards. Everything was in place—orderly to the point of feeling calculated.
Behind the massive glass desk sat a woman who could have been carved from the same steel as the building. She wore a perfectly tailored navy suit, not a wrinkle in sight, her short-cropped hair immaculate. Even from across the room, her presence was... intense.
She didn’t speak right away. Just watched.
Her pale, sharp eyes locked onto mine, assessing, calculating. I felt pinned in place, my throat dry.
I forced a step forward. Then another.
“Uh, hi. I’m Grace Lopez,” I said, voice thinner than I’d meant it to be. “I—uh—just started today? Was told to report here.”
She finally moved, rising to her full height in one fluid motion, every inch as commanding as her stare. She checked her watch.
“Five minutes.”
I blinked. “I—sorry?”
“You’re five minutes late.”
Her voice was calm, even, but it carried a weight that made my stomach twist.
“Oh. Yes, ma’am, I—traffic was—”
She cut me off with a raised hand. “Do you know how long it takes someone to bleed out, Ms. Lopez?”
My brain screeched to a halt. “What?”
Her gaze didn’t waver. “Two to six minutes. Depending on the wound.”
My mouth opened, then closed again. What was I supposed to say to that?
She continued, stepping around the desk with slow, measured precision. “If someone’s life depended on you—truly depended on you—would five minutes of delay be acceptable?”
I felt my pulse in my ears. Words struggled to form, and all I could manage was a shaky, “N-no, ma’am.”
A beat of silence. Then, slowly, she nodded.
“Good.” She returned to her desk, gesturing to the chair across from her. “Now that we’ve established the importance of punctuality, sit. We have work to do.”
I sat, barely able to keep my hands steady in my lap. My heart was still hammering, my mind racing with a single thought.
What the hell did I just sign up for?