The debrief room looked like the inside of a lie detector’s brain — clean, bright, and way too sterile.

A single glass table sat in the middle, surrounded by smooth black chairs that definitely screamed “interrogation, but make it luxury.”

Riley stood there, arms crossed. “So, do I sit, or do we just stand here and vibe until someone starts threatening me with PowerPoint slides?”

“Sit,” Mia’s voice came from the doorway — cool, confident, and just a bit amused. She stepped in wearing a blazer sharp enough to cut glass and heels that echoed like punctuation marks.

Kade followed behind her, silent as ever, carrying a tablet. He didn’t look at Riley right away — which was rude, considering she’d been mentally preparing her award-winning speech about being tricked into spy life.

Riley dropped into a chair anyway, muttering, “Great. Can’t wait to be graded on how well I accidentally joined espionage.”

Mia sat across from her, fingers steepled. “Riley Torres, age twenty-seven, graphic designer, independent problem-solver, questionable judgment regarding Uber rides.”

Riley blinked. “Okay, ouch. Didn’t realize my résumé was being read by a roast master.”

Mia smiled faintly. “Humor under stress. That’s promising.”

“She does that a lot,” Kade said, still scrolling through the tablet, tone neutral — but Riley caught the flicker of a smirk. Barely there. Like the spy version of an emoji reaction.

“Excuse me,” Riley shot back, “some of us cope through personality.”

“Some of us don’t,” Kade replied evenly.

She squinted. “Yeah, noticed.”

The air between them shifted — not hostile, but thick with that unsaid I see you and I don’t know what to do with you yet tension. Mia watched them both like a cat watching two particularly interesting goldfish.

“Good,” Mia said finally. “You’ll need that energy. We’re assigning you both to a joint surveillance case.”

Riley blinked. “Wait—both?”

“Yes,” Mia said. “Kade is your handler. For now.”

Riley’s jaw nearly hit the table. “You’re pairing me with him? Mr. One-Word Answers and Tactical Glowering?”

Kade’s head tilted slightly, voice calm. “It’s Agent Mercener.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Agent Mercener,” Riley said, miming air quotes. “Do I get a cool codename too, or should I just go by ‘Civilian Mistake’?”

Mia hid a smile behind her tablet. “You’ll get an official call sign once you survive orientation.”

“Once I what—?”

Kade leaned closer, voice quiet enough to make her freeze mid-sentence. “She’s joking.”

Riley blinked. “Oh. Ha. Funny. Love that for my blood pressure.”

Mia tapped her screen, and a holographic map projected over the table — lines, coordinates, and encrypted dots lighting up like constellations.

“This,” she said, “is the target pattern we’ve been tracking. Someone’s been intercepting our field transmissions — same frequency, same precision as one of our own. Which means—”

Riley frowned. “You’ve got a mole.”

Mia’s gaze flicked up, impressed. “You catch on fast.”

“It’s my only survival trait,” Riley said under her breath.

Kade’s eyes lingered on her — not annoyed this time, more… curious. He was studying her reactions like he could decode them faster than any program. Riley pretended not to notice, even though her pulse betrayed her.

Mia continued, “You’ll run a cover operation. Local contacts. Minimal exposure. We need to know who’s behind the breach.”

Riley stared. “Okay, and by ‘minimal exposure,’ you mean…?”

Kade answered before Mia could. “You’ll pose as a graphic designer consultant. I’ll pose as your driver.”

Riley’s jaw dropped again. “You’re kidding.”

“No,” Kade said simply. “It’s worked before.”

“Right, because when people see you, the first thing they think is ‘totally normal rideshare driver.’”

He gave her a look — the kind that could melt concrete if it lingered long enough — and Riley instantly regretted opening her mouth.

But then she noticed the faintest twitch at the corner of his lip, and oh no… he was enjoying this.

Mia cleared her throat, redirecting their focus. “Your first field assignment is in forty-eight hours. You’ll receive equipment and a pre-brief package tonight. Do not improvise.”

“Define ‘improvise,’” Riley said.

“Anything that starts with you saying ‘I have an idea,’” Kade murmured.

Riley gasped in fake offense. “Wow. Okay. Disrespectful, but accurate.”

Mia stood, gathering her tablet. “You two have potential,” she said, voice poised but warm now. “Rough edges, but potential.”

As she moved toward the door, Riley leaned to Kade. “Did she just compliment us or threaten us?”

“Both,” he replied without missing a beat.

She tilted her head, studying him. “Do you ever relax, or do you, like, sleep standing up and charge through USB-C?”

That earned her an actual glance — long enough for her to notice the faint crease between his brows, the tiny almost-smile that never quite made it to his mouth.

A moment that stretched longer than it should’ve — the kind where the air gets heavy, full of words neither one wants to admit they’re thinking.

Then he looked away, all business again. “Briefing’s over.”

“Yeah,” Riley muttered, standing up. “Cool, sure. Let’s go save the world or whatever.”

Outside the glass room, Mia’s voice echoed from behind them.

“Oh, and Torres?”

Riley turned.

Mia’s expression softened. “Welcome to the team.”

Riley blinked. “You mean the team that kidnaps people, fries drones, and critiques my coffee choices?”

Mia smiled. “Exactly that one.”

Riley exhaled through a laugh, trailing after Kade as the doors slid shut behind them.

“I’m in way over my head,” she whispered.

Kade didn’t look back. “You’re still breathing. That’s a good start.”