Chapter 13: Awful start

My career as a spy was off to a humiliating start.

If there was a textbook on covert surveillance, I was currently writing the chapter on what not to do. My father demanded intel on Vesper Bianchi—weaknesses, habits, hidden sins. But so far, the only thing I’d discovered was that Vesper had an uncanny, almost supernatural ability to know exactly when I was looking at him.

Tuesday, I tried to tail him to the library. I tripped over a uneven paving stone and dropped my entire bag, scattering tampons and textbooks at his feet. He didn’t even blink; he just stepped over the mess with a look of profound boredom.

Wednesday, I hid behind a bush near the athletic complex, hoping to overhear a phone call. I sneezed so hard I fell out of the foliage right as he walked past.

And today. Today was the worst yet.

I was currently squeezed into the narrow gap between a humming vending machine and the concrete wall of the field house tunnel. The air smelled of stale popcorn, floor wax, and the intense, musky scent of expensive cologne and something wilder that always clung to Vesper.

The team was filtering out from afternoon practice. The hallway echoed with the sounds of their heels on concrete and loud, adrenaline-fueled male laughter. I held my breath, praying the shadows would swallow me.

They didn't.

A shadow fell over my hiding spot. I looked up, way up.

Vesper wasn't even looking for me. He had just stopped to buy a Gatorade. He punched the button, the machine whirred, and then he slowly turned his head, his gaze dropping directly to where I was crouched.

He didn't look surprised.

"Are we really doing this again, Rodgers?" his voice was a low rumble that vibrated through the thin metal of the vending machine against my back.

I scrambled to my feet, dusting off my jeans, my face burning hotter than the sun. "I was just... I dropped a quarter. It rolled under here."

"You dropped a quarter," he repeated, his face a mask of stone. "You seem to drop a lot of things whenever I'm around."

He leaned in, one arm propped against the machine, boxing me in. Up close, the sheer size of him was overwhelming. He radiated heat like a furnace. His eyes searched mine, not with romantic intent, but with a cold, predatory curiosity that made my skin crawl.

"Who sent you?" he whispered, the words sharp as glass. "You're too clumsy to be a professional, and too persistent to be a fangirl. What do you want?"

Before I could stammer out another lie, the locker room door swung open again. Three defensive linemen, huge guys whose necks seemed wider than their heads, lumbered out.

They stopped when they saw us. One of them, a guy named Bricks who had hands the size of hams, grinned wolfishly.

"Yo, Vesper. You cornered the new girl? Finally decided to take a bite out of the charity case?" He looked me up and down in a way that made me feel dirty. "Save some scraps for the rest of us, man. She’s kinda cute."

I shrank back against the wall. Vesper’s reaction was instantaneous, and terrifying.

He didn't move away from me. He moved closer, shifting his body so he was completely shielding me from Bricks' view. A low sound tore from his throat—not quite a growl, but something deeper than a human noise.

"Walk away, Bricks," Vesper snarled. The air around us seemed to crackle with sudden, violent static. "Now."

The big lineman blinked, confused by the sudden aggression directed at him instead of me. The other two players took an immediate step back, looking genuinely unsettled.

"Chill, man. I was just playing," Bricks mumbled, holding up his hands in surrender before quickly retreating down the hall.

The silence they left behind was suffocating. Vesper stayed where he was, crowding me, his chest heaving slightly. He stared at the retreating backs of his teammates, his jaw clenched so tight a muscle feathered beneath his skin.

Then he whipped his head back to look at me. The protection vanished, replaced by furious confusion. He looked like he wanted to shake me, or maybe shake himself. He ran a hand through his dark hair, wincing as if in physical pain.

"Stop following me," he hissed, pushing himself off the machine and backing away as if I were radioactive. "And stay out of the tunnels. It isn't safe for you down here."

He stormed off before I could reply, leaving me trembling in the scent of ozone and confusing fury.

I made it back to my dorm room in a daze. Aleera was at her desk, color-coding her history notes.

"Hey," she smiled, looking up. "You okay? You look like you saw a ghost. Or Vesper Bianchi without his shirt on."

"Very funny," I tossed my bag on my bed, my hands still shaking. "Just tired."

My phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out, expecting another threatening text from my father’s burner account.

It wasn't my father.

Unknown Number: Meet me at the campus coffee shop. Ten minutes. Bring the roommate. And smile, Sylvania. Family reunion.

My blood ran cold.

Enzo.

My older brother. My father’s favorite enforcer. The man who had once broken my arm when I was ten because I dropped his favorite ceramic mug, and then told my father I fell down the stairs.

"Aleera," my voice sounded brittle, thin. "Hey, do you want to grab a coffee? My... my cousin just texted. He’s in town unexpectedly and wants to say hi."

Aleera perked up, closing her notebook. "Oh, fun! A cousin? Yeah, I could use a caffeine IV drip. Let’s go."

She had no idea she was walking into a lion’s den because I asked her to.

The campus coffee shop was bustling. But then I saw him.

Enzo was sitting at a corner booth, wearing a tailored navy polo that cost more than my semester’s tuition. He looked like a GQ model—slicked-back dark hair, an easy smile, an expensive watch glinting on his wrist. He looked nothing like the monster I had known.

"Sylvie!" He stood up as we approached, opening his arms for a hug.

I walked into the embrace because I had to.

"It's been too long, little cousin," he whispered in my ear. "Dad’s getting impatient. He sent me to ensure you're focusing on your studies."

He released me, turning his smile on Aleera.

"And you must be Aleera. Sylvania has told us so much about you in her letters."

"Oh, nice to meet you," Aleera smiled back, completely charmed.

He bought us coffees and pastries. He was charming, witty, asking Aleera questions about her major, listening with rapt attention. Aleera was laughing, relaxed. She thought he was wonderful.

I sat there, nauseous, watching the predator play with its food. Every time Enzo smiled, I saw the boy who used to lock me in closets.

"I'm going to run to the restroom real quick," Aleera said after twenty minutes, sliding out of the booth. "Be right back."

The second she was out of earshot, the smile vanished from Enzo’s face like it had been wiped off with a rag. His eyes, dark and empty, bored into mine.

"You're failing, Sylvania," he said, his voice flat. "Dad is watching the feeds. No intel on Bianchi. Just you lurking around like a lost puppy. It's embarrassing."

"It's harder than it looks," I whispered, gripping my hot coffee cup to stop my hands from shaking. "He’s guarded. He suspects me."

"Then un-suspect him," Enzo snapped. "Get closer. Sleep with him if you have to. I don't care how you do it. We need something to leverage him out of his father’s protection."

Aleera was walking back toward the table, smiling, wiping her hands on her jeans.

Enzo saw her coming. His expression smoothed back into the charming cousin mask, but his hand shot across the table.

He grabbed my wrist, his thumb pressing hard into the pulse point, digging in until it sent a sharp shoot of pain up my arm.

"You like her, don't you?" he murmured, his eyes darting to Aleera and back to me. "She's sweet. Fragile."

"Don't," I breathed, tears pricking my eyes. "Enzo, please. She has nothing to do with this."

"Everyone close to you has something to do with this, little sister. That's how leverage works."

Aleera reached the table, sliding back into the booth next to me, bumping her shoulder against mine warmly. "Whew, that line was long. What did I miss?"

Enzo released my wrist, his demeanor easy and light. "Oh, just catching up on family gossip."

He reached out, casually, and tucked a stray curl behind Aleera’s ear. His fingers lingered there for a second too long, resting against the delicate skin of her neck, right over her carotid artery.

Aleera blushed slightly at the attention.

My heart stopped.

"You know, Aleera," Enzo said softly, his eyes locked on mine over her shoulder, "you should really make sure she stays focused on her task. We'd hate to see her get distracted."

His fingers traced her jawline before pulling away. "It was lovely meeting you both. I'll be around town for a while. I'll be watching."

He stood up, dropped a fifty-dollar bill on the table, and walked out of the coffee shop without looking back.

Aleera turned to me, grinning. "Wow. Your cousin is hot. Intense, but hot."

I looked at the red marks on my wrist where his fingers had dug in. I looked at Aleera’s innocent, smiling neck where his hand had just rested.

"Yeah," I whispered, feeling the trap closing tight around us. "He's something else."