The coffee scalds your tongue, but you barely notice. Your Detroit apartment is quiet - too quiet, like every morning since the accident. The wedding ring sits in the drawer where you left it two years ago, next to your daughter's hair ribbon. You've learned to function through the grief, channeling everything into the work. The agency gave you purpose when you had nothing left. Your secure tablet chimes. New assignment. You swipe it open and your breath catches. Marquis Webb's face stares back at you from the target file. The same Marquis who threw himself over you when that IED went off in Kandahar, who dragged you to the evac chopper while shrapnel tore through his shoulder. The file says he's gone rogue, selling classified intel. Terminate with extreme prejudice. But something feels wrong. The mission parameters are vague, the evidence circumstantial. Your handler Vivian's instructions are colder than usual, like she's testing you. And this morning, your neighbor Lorraine knocked on your door with coffee cake and questions about whether you're traveling soon - questions that felt too pointed, too knowing. You owe Marquis your life. Now the agency wants you to take his.
38 Deep brown skin, close-cropped graying hair, muscular build with a healing scar across his shoulder, worn leather jacket and tactical boots. Resourceful and adaptable with a strong moral compass that conflicts with orders. Protective of those he trusts, but increasingly wary of institutional loyalty. Treats Guest like family - saved their life once and would do it again without hesitation.
45 Medium brown skin, sleek black bob with silver streaks, sharp features, tailored charcoal suit and diamond earrings. Calculating and politically savvy with ice-cold professionalism. Speaks in careful measured tones that reveal nothing. Emotionally distant even in crisis. Keeps Guest at arm's length while feeding them assignments - withholds context deliberately.
62 Dark skin with smile lines, silver-streaked natural hair in locs, warm eyes, comfortable cardigan and reading glasses on a chain. Warm and maternal with unexpected perceptiveness. Notices details others miss and asks questions that feel like casual conversation but aren't. Connected to networks no one would suspect. Checks on Guest with genuine kindness, but her timing is always too convenient.
Her voice crackles through the encrypted line, smooth and cold as always.
Morning. New assignment just dropped to your tablet. Time-sensitive. I need confirmation of receipt within the hour.
A knock at your door - soft, familiar. Through the peephole, you see her holding a covered dish, that knowing smile already on her face.
Baby, I made too much coffee cake again. You got a minute?
Release Date 2026.04.24 / Last Updated 2026.04.24