It had been three years since I got back to New York City. I entered my apartment and immediately took a shower, sliding into the tub and staring at the bathroom wall in front of me. A sigh escaped my lips. I was tired, but I couldn't close my eyes; otherwise, I would fall asleep in the bathroom.
I had just returned from Russia a few weeks ago. I was there for two years to finish a very important mission. God, it was exhausting. I had killed a whole bunch of people. Bad people. Smugglers. I did one year of planning and studying them. Then execution came after, and of course, I wasn't alone. The agency wouldn't let me execute alone because they feared I would go bonkers again. So, I was accompanied by another agent. It was tough because they had really good security in Russia. Not to mention the weapons.
After washing up, I walked to my wardrobe and pulled out an oversized shirt and underwear. I had lived alone my entire life in different houses and apartments. I was used to being alone all the time, and I was comfortable that way.
Jumping onto my soft bed, I was about to fall asleep when my phone beeped. It was a text message from my friend, Miguela Rossi, also an agent in the agency. We had worked together before, but now, we were forbidden to do partner missions due to some incident. We had been friends since the first time I took that mission with Miguela.
The message read that the bitch was back from Madrid. A smile stretched my lips before leaving the message unreplied. I put down my phone on the bedside table and shifted on the bed. I shut my eyes and dozed off shortly.
“Frank!” A woman cried loudly.
A gunshot blew heavily and deafeningly inside a dark room along with the sobbing of a woman. The woman repeatedly yelled the name of her husband, but he wasn’t budging. Frank was dead on the ground, bloody and bruised. It took only one second of that pistol to fire right through the poor man’s head.
“Mom?” A faint voice echoed inside the living room of their house, and the little girl walked out of her bedroom silently.
I woke up to the sound of heavy knocks against my apartment door. The person behind it clearly didn't understand patience, and I may have a small clue on who that dumbass is. I closed my eyes in annoyance when my whole body was sweating as I got up from the bed; little droplets came running down my forehead. I had another of that nightmare again.
“Fucking wait!” I groaned and ran to get the door. When I opened it, I was greeted by a smiling Ciara with a paper bag and two Americanos in her grip.
“You look like crap,” Ciara said and pointed at my face, down to my clothes. I looked down at my clothes with pressed lips; I saw no problem. I looked over to Ciara’s outfit, and I rolled my eyes. Of course, she’s Ciara, and she wouldn’t dare walk out of her house dressed poorly. Women like Ciara, who dress as though it’s the end of the freaking world and they’d die if not properly clothed according to their fashion sense; they exist, and one is standing in front of me right now.
My face wrinkled when Ciara pushed me to the side so she could get inside my flat. Ciara walked straight past me and to the kitchen. We were already friends even before I entered the agency. Ciara was a stripper from the club she worked at as a bartender. Surprisingly, Ciara was a part of the agency and she’s undercover as a stripper for a mission in the US. Ciara mentioned the millions she earned from the job, and I was piqued. I asked Ciara to let me join the agency, and Ciara happily led me to a woman named Ruby Holland, the senior manager at Exodus Agency. The rest is history.
“Uh, what are you doing here?” I eyed my friend intently while she plopped on one of my counter stools, her bright blonde hair bouncing down her waist elegantly. Ciara was wearing a skimpy white dress that exposed her back skin, her waist tattoo peeking underneath the fabric.
“Hey, I’m asking you,” I inhaled sharply. This grown ass lady here always acts like her freaking kid, and I’m not liking it. My apartment is a mess right now, and I don't want another mess, and by that, I mean the lady devil herself: Ciara Ferrer. I haven't started unpacking, and I need to get groceries and stuff.
The lady devil sighed as if the problem was so deep, “I was bored and alone.”
I rolled my eyes as if expecting that line from her.
“And?”
“And I brought breakfast,” Ciara smiled, wiggling her brows as if that would convince me to let the lady devil stay here.
I glared at her suspiciously.
“Oh, come on! It’s too quiet in my unit, and I didn’t feel like day drinking. I'm leaving right away too since I have a spa appointment,” Ciara said before smiling widely. The good thing about working for the agency is that you have lots of freedom, time, and a bank account flowing with billions. You need not apply for a job or think about paying bills. You can do pretty much whatever you want; travel around the world and spend your dollars on a shopping spree which Ciara would go for. However, you must know that one call from the agency, you must at all costs, answer and finish the mission assigned to you.
I heaved a sigh before closing the door and following Ciara into the kitchen. Ciara put the food she bought on the kitchen counter. I reached for
the pancakes and Americano.
“Where are the girls?” I asked before shoving half of the pancake into my mouth.
“They're busy,” Ciara said and bit from the pancake. It wasn’t just Ciara and me who worked for the agency. There are thousands of Exodus Agents all over the globe, mostly in Europe since the agency was founded there. As for me, I was trained in my homeland, in the United States. While my friends are in their own homeland as well.
“Don't you have work today?” Ciara asked, sipping from her coffee.
I scoffed, “Nah, I got fired at the bar I work at.”
“Do I even wanna know?” Ciara pursed her lips.
I stifled a laugh, “One of the customers tried my patience, so I put something in his drink and got his tongue burned. I don’t even know what happened to him now. He probably doesn't talk much.”
Ciara laughed for a while, “Shit. That’s just evil, Az.”
I smiled at myself.
“Do you know any club that pays big?”
Ciara stared at me for like a second before barking a laugh, “Are you serious? You do know we don’t need to work, right? We are paid a lot in the agency, how many more billions do you need in your bank account?” Ciara let out a chuckle.
I looked Ciara dead in the eyes, “Unlike you, I work when I’m bored. I don’t party and spend my money on hangovers and men.”
Ciara laughed, “Ouch! But seriously, try applying at Clementine. It's an exclusive club, I assume they'll pay big time there.”
I raised a brow. Clementine?
“Never heard of it,” I sipped from my coffee.
“Well, it's a newly opened bar just near my condo,”
I nodded repeatedly, “Hm, okay. I’ll drop by then.”
Ciara sipped on her frappe while eyeing me intently, “How was the VIP mission in Russia?”
“Bloody,” I replied shortly as I tore the pancake in half and stuffed the other half in my mouth.
“Typical you. Who’s the partner?”
“Some brunette named Maddison,”
Ciara raised a brow before nodding her head nonchalantly.
“Huh, get ready for another VIP then,”
I looked up instantly, “What do you mean?”
“I heard the other agents talk. The Magnus are to receive VIP missions this year. So exhausting! I wish it would be a group mission with Alfonso included,” Ciara smiled to herself, crossing her legs. She’s probably fantasizing about the agent again.
The Exodus Agency is organized and run by the government. Agents are classified into three divisions. The Magnus is a group of agents, the highest rank of all agents; we are part of that circle. The rest are called Indomitus; they are agents in lower ranking and below the Magnus. While the new and under-training agents are known as Ancora.
I stared at her in bewilderment, “Is that true?”
Ciara nodded, “Yes, I also confirmed it with Ruby,”
Ruby Holland is a senior manager. She was also an agent at Exodus Agency but she retired and decided to keep working for the agency, and thus, she is now working as a manager. Ruby has been kind and helpful to me and to every agent under her management, namely, Magnus Agents. The other divisions are handled by different senior managers as well.
A loud ringtone erupted, “Speaking of the older lady devil,” I smirked upon seeing Ruby’s name on the screen of my phone.
“Hey, Ruby,” I smiled, looking over at Ciara, who was sitting across from me. Ciara smiled and kept mouthing something. I furrowed my brows at her, and when I finally understood, I put the call on speaker. “Where the hell is Ciara?” Ruby’s voice boomed, angrily. I looked at the frowning Ciara. Ciara shook her head and raised her arms to form a cross sign to me. “Uh, how would I know? She hasn’t been replying to my texts. She’s probably out day drinking again, why do you ask?” I glared at Ciara and gestured for her to stop with the sign languages, so she stayed still and listened to the conversation. “I kept calling her, but she wasn’t responding. That brat kept delaying the mission I gave her, saying she couldn’t because it involved her ex—what is that rat’s name again? James? John?” “It’s Jordan! God!” Ciara covered her mouth as soon as she realized she just busted the cover, and now she got caught. “Ciara! Answer your damn phone, you little—” The call ended abruptly when Ciara
A smirk stretched my lips as I stared at the screen of my TV. I was sitting on the couch comfortably with my feet placed on the center table; a bowl of fries lay flat on my stomach. I was hired yesterday, and now I am already a bartender at Clementine. Who thought it would be that easy to get into Clementine? “Shit,” I mumbled a curse underneath my breath when I glanced over at the clock just above my TV. I have to get ready. It's already five-thirty in the afternoon, and Clementine will get busy at six, which is my working hour up until midnight. I got up and entered the bathroom with a towel on my shoulder. I took a quick bath and wore a black halter crop top and a leather jacket, paired with my usual denim jeans. I combed my short hair with my fingers and wore strapped sandals. It was a casual outfit that Ciara probably wouldn’t wear to a club. Well, I will show up as the bartender anyway, not some customer. It's not like I’m going there to party, so I kept it casual and simple.
The moment our eyes met, something invaded my system like wildfire. Zakael sat a few meters away with his fingers playing with the tip of his half-empty glass. He wore a white dress shirt again, like the last time. The expensive-looking watch was hit by the disco lights, and the brown eyes I once remembered glistened. His face was illuminated, and there, I remembered fully; the drunk man from the bar. The corner of his lips rose once he held my fiery gaze. It was an inevitable spark he thought he could handle the moment he saw my face, and heard the sharpness in my words; the strings of curses that fell from my lips without hesitance he wanted to hear again. I averted my gaze from the stranger, my fingers slid in my pocket to fetch my phone. My brows furrowed when I found myself nervously biting the inside of my cheeks. It’s not like me to feel nervous around people, much more towards men. Once I got a hold of my phone, I glanced at the screen to check the time. Where the hell is Rio
The sound of my fist walloping the punching bag was pleasing to my ears. The gym was empty today. I woke up early and went straight to the agency. I decided to go to the gym, and lucky me, no one else was there that early. The building has two gyms: The underground gym for the high-ranking agents, the oldest training room since the agency was built. Yes, you can say that we agents are spoiled; we have our own dormitories, restaurant, spa, gym, and many more. The building is literally our home. Then, there’s also the public gym on the second floor for the other agents, the largest gym that is usually packed. “Davis,” A calm, feminine voice echoed inside the room. I stopped and caught the punching bag to stop it from moving. Panting, I reached for the towel on the bench and wiped the beads of sweat on my neck. “Ruby,” I smirked as my eyes scanned the older lady’s figure. Ruby was tall and tanned, wearing a beige jumpsuit that suited her physique. She's that rich, cool, and sexy aunt
As soon as I reached my apartment, I got out with the folder on my side. Popping the keys in the knob of my apartment, the door opened with a faint creak. I slid onto my slippers and went over to the kitchen for a cold drink. I placed the black folder on the countertop before opening my fridge to fetch a glass of water. I drank from the glass and glanced down at the sealed folder. Upon opening it and turning the pages, I furrowed my brows when I saw the ID picture attached to the paper. “Zakael Dela Priego,” I read the name of my supposed client. I couldn't believe it's him. Is Aunt Ruby playing with me? Is this what she meant by “He's a hottie?” I scanned the papers and saw his address and all the important information about the man. Zakael Dela Priego will soon be handling their family business, the Dela Priego Real Estate. He is now working alongside his father, the current President of DPRE. Zakael also owns his own restaurant. I couldn’t help but raise a brow, “So, he’s a bus
The moment I left my client’s mansion, I got in my car and drove straight to Clementine. I got inside the club with a frown on my face upon seeing Wendy waving her hand towards me. Wendy was gesturing to me that I must go behind the counter now. Right, I have to work. I looked around the whole club, but there was not a shadow of Zakael Dela Priego. His father told me Zakael might be at Clementine though. I waited behind the counter as I worked, glancing at the people entering the club from time to time. Where the hell is he? “One Margarita, please.” My head shot up as soon as I heard the familiar voice. The frown was then replaced with a wide grin as I glanced at the face of a friend, it was none other than Miguela Rossi. “Migs.” “Zally,” Miguela said, a smile playing on her lips. I couldn’t help but smile at the nickname Miguela created for me. It’s cringey, but I have grown used to it. “Still alive, huh?” I asked jokingly. I grabbed a cocktail glass and started making Miguela
Are these the people threatening the Dela Priegos? I eyed the rugged jackets and tacky pants. They look like gangsters; they’re also bulky and tan. I saw from my peripheral view that a man pulled something from his jacket. I knew exactly what it was, and before the little fucker could get it from the pocket, I aimed at his hand, and the bullet flew fast the moment I pulled the trigger. A moan escaped the man’s mouth holding his bleeding hand. Both men are down. I squatted in front of the man and looked at his face intently. He seemed like the leader as he was the one giving orders to his friend. The man could only glare at me; his ribs might’ve been broken from the strong kick a while ago. The woman can fight, but the man didn’t look impressed. He looked annoyed while I picked something out of the pocket of his jacket. A smile slowly appeared on my face eyeing the man’s identification card. I turned to the man with the bloody hand and also got his ID. I slid the cards in my back poc
Zakael let out a low grunt when I shoved him to his bed. “Aw!” He cried. My brows knitted as I eyed his curled-up body. So now he can talk? Is he playing with me? “Hey!” I slapped his foot dangling out at the edge of the bed. I saw him smile. “You bastard! You’re awake, and you made it hard for me to carry you here?” I hissed, beyond annoyed at how childish he acts when he’s either drunk or high. “I'm awake but I'm still dizzy.” He explained and sat up in his bed. He caressed his head and blinked. He let out a groan and frowned to himself. Is he just acting or what? I frowned. My eyes roamed around the room. The walls were high and painted darkly. His room was simple but manly; with a flat screen in front of the bed, a tall lamp, and a fluffy carpet. There’s also a black couch on the side and a door, surely that’s the bathroom. I opened his closet, and my eyes feasted on the shades of blue, white, and black clothing. Most of them are corporate clothes, so I just picked out whate