file #22 (Patreon)

top secret

synopsis: sleepless nights and dangerous missions don't mean much when your life is on the line every shift. except when a single mistake lands you in the bed of a certain asshole and in the sights of another. untangling the conspiracy of a murdered CEO becomes a lot harder when you're tangled between the two men at the center of it, forced to choose between your fellow agent and your target. from fake dating to falling in love, how far are you willing to go to unravel the truth? and who will be there to pick up the pieces of what's left?

content: angst + plot, spy au, mutual pining, betrayal, trust issues, trauma, reader is really going through it, really just more suffering, tension, heartbreak

₊˚ᘏᘏ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ᘏᘏ˚₊

Was it technically a trap if he knew they were baiting him before he even walked into it?

He still hesitated. The colored contacts he bought for this made it hard to fully see, squinting in his mirror to make sure none of his irises were visible. Following it up by fixing his tie and tugging at the wig hiding his hair as he glanced towards the people crowding around the entrance. 

Agents would be watching every door. Posted there purely hoping to sight him. 

A smart man would start the car again and drive down the road. A private jet was waiting for him an hour to the south. On the slim chance that his moronic plan was a success, fueled up so that you could flee. Even his lawyer was already billing him for the next few hours in case he failed. 

The media had already run with the idea of another rich nepo-baby being a depraved lunatic who couldn’t accept the word no. 

Painted him out to be a serial killer, claiming all those women he’d rescued were just more victims – acting as if he buried or burned them, their remains hidden away in a ditch or forgotten grave. 

He bristled at every headline. Bit the inside of his cheek at the blown-up images of him on screen. Old employees had started coming forward, talking about seeing you hiding half-behind him as his assistant. 

Indignation wouldn’t get him anywhere though. 

You were going to be pissed when you saw him. 

He could see the way your mouth would twitch down, how your brows would pinch together as you called him an idiot. 

You’d be right. 

Because he was staking his future on the hope that the universe might finally throw him a bone. Offer him a way out of this with you on his arm. 

He was the sort of fool who still believed in happy endings. 

In defeating the bad guys and getting away with the damsel in distress. 

He wasn’t a prince. No, he was no better than a dunce. He’d been convinced that slaying the dragon his dad had been would solve everything. Back then, he’d pay any cost to set his mother free. How was he supposed to see the chain of consequences it would set off? 

Knowing the board members and shareholders hated him was different than suspecting they’d pay a goddamn government agency to frame him.  

No proof existed anymore of the only crime he actually committed. 

So they had to create a new one just to nail him to the wall. To condemn him for the only good he’d ever done in saving those other girls too. 

They all had new lives now. 

It wasn’t as if they could step out and say he hadn’t done anything to them. 

He didn’t even want them to. What was any of this worth if at least some of them didn’t come out of this alright? 

They should just stick to their own worlds. Not come back to this awful one. 

His jaw clicked tight as he watched the crowd behind him. 

He had to give it to them. It was a good cover. Fundraising for victims. Putting you up on a stage to give a speech and fill their pockets while they were at it. He sincerely doubted a cent would actually go towards the people they promised to protect. 

Deceit was all they were good at. 

They tricked you. Convinced you that this was all for a noble cause. He’d thought about your words a lot in your absence. The little pieces of your story you provided. 

He wondered when they got their claws into you. How they decided you were the perfect girl to recruit. The idea of you bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, absolutely certain you were doing good just hurt. 

Fingers curling into a fist that had nowhere to go, nothing to hit as his foot anxiously bounced against the floorboard. Was that version of you close to the one you pretended to be for him at first? 

Bile was rising up in his throat at the thought, and it took everything in him not to crack his car door open and puke onto the paved street. 

But he held it in, choked it down as he forced himself to pocket his keys and slip out into the moonless night. 

Most of the people had already made it through security. 

He wasn’t even attempting it. 

Attempting to seem normal on the sidewalk until he was sure no one was looking, dipping behind the trees landscaping the outside of the building before crouching into a blooming bush, plucking a bud out of his hair until he was right against the cold stone.

The closer he got, the faster his heart seemed to thrum against his ribcage, his chest compressing tighter as his nerves wound up. 

He could still go. 

Slip back into the night and never come back. 

But he’d spend the rest of his life looking back on this moment if he did. Aching to know where you were and what you were doing and whether or not you missed him as much as he missed you. 

His father’s cold voice was curt in his eardrums, still haunting him even here. 

Mocking him for throwing away his life for a woman he could just replace. 

That was it though. 

He didn’t want to replace you. He wanted the future you promised each other. The fucking cat cafe and a pretty little place by the sea. He wanted to feel the sand beneath his toes and slip his fingers between yours before tugging you down onto a fraying beach towel to make love to you sweet and slow. 

It was that or nothing. 

Getting in was easier than he expected. The bushes provided decent enough cover for him to slip in through an unlocked window on the first floor while the closest guards were distracted checking IDs for the final guests trickling in. It was small enough he supposed they’d think he was too big to fit. 

His fingers still trembled when he slid the window open, holding his breath as he barely managed to heave himself through and shut it swiftly behind him. 

No one even seemed to glance at him when he slipped into the main room, people milling around and waiters waving around platters of appetizers he didn’t have the stomach for. 

He must have missed your speech. 

It was probably better that way. He wasn’t sure if he could keep a straight face listening to you recite rehearsed shit about how horrible he was. 

You had to make him a monster for them. 

All he could do was hope you didn’t think he was one for leaving you in the first place. 

He hoped you weren’t mad. Or that if you were, you’d save shouting at him for the plane ride. 

If it meant you were safe, he’d let you beat his chest with your fists and sob out every bottled-up emotion you’d been forced to carry inside you for god-knows how long.

Couldn’t it make both of you even now? 

No more secrets. No more lies. 

“Would you like any hors d'oeuvres, sir?” 

He snapped back into focus, shaking his head politely to the innocent waitress. 

“No thank you,” he softly said, keeping his voice quiet. 

He couldn’t be too careful. For all he knew, the staff had been shown photos of him, told to be on the look out.

Hopefully, his disguise would buy him enough time. Maybe they’d buy it long enough for him to steal you away under the cheap excuse of enjoying your speech. Being moved by your words. 

He scanned the crowd again – and spotted you almost immediately this time. 

The first glimpse ripped all the air from his lungs, his mouth uselessly hanging open as your head turned just enough for him to see the rest of you. 

It wasn’t fair how pretty you looked even when this was all pretend. Lips painted and glossy, thick mascara on your lashes as a dark dress clung to your hips. Teetering on heels that were too tall for you. 

They didn’t want you to run. 

Dressed you like a doll as if it would distract everyone from how dull your eyes were under the makeup. How they didn’t glitter when you laughed, how hollow it sounded – and for a brief second, he was back in that house. 

Back when he just wanted to see you smile, make you giggle, lean in close enough to catch whiffs of your perfume while you snuck around behind your (not) boyfriend’s back. 

Things had felt simple then.

He thought he could save you. 

The sad part was he still thought that.

Convinced that you were just his hardest challenge yet. One last test. One last girl to rescue. 

The blame was hard to stomach at the bitter realization that what had once been his penance had turned into his own personal mission. His pleasure, too, however twisted and terrible it made him. 

You spoke, but he couldn’t hear your voice, something invisible in his chest tearing as he tried to read your lips. But he couldn’t make out the words, his heart lurching as he tried to discreetly move closer. 

He saw the healing wound on your wrist when you reached up to tuck some hair back behind your ear. 

Had they replaced the tracker you sliced out? 

Slipped it right back beneath the skin before they stitched you up? 

No, they wouldn’t put it back there. They probably placed it somewhere you wouldn’t be able to cut it out so easily. 

The nape of your neck. Maybe next to some important artery. 

He’d have to ask.

Hold the knife himself this time to dig it back out – or pay some physician somewhere to do it for him. The idea of them cutting into you made him even more ill, spit pooling in his mouth.

His head was still swimming with the bloody image when it struck him. 

Something wasn’t right. 

His skin crawled with some nearly imperceptible wrongness, palms beginning to sweat as he struggled to figure out what was bothering him other than the obvious. 

The longer he swept over the room, the less safe he felt. Sure, half the people here probably would love nothing more than to see him rotting in a cell for the rest of his life simply to fulfill their stupid contract.

Yet, none of them were really looking at him. 

Or seemed to be looking for anyone. 

And where was your partner? 

The devil he made the deal with in the name of your protection? 

He had to be lurking somewhere. Watching from the shadows, probably looking for him – or maybe purposely pretending not to see him among the guests. 

Still, he was doing what he could to blend in. Pretended to sip the champagne they were passing out as he milled among the crowd. 

He just needed a minute. 

Sixty seconds you were left alone – and he could pull you into a room and help you out a window. Run back to his car and disappear down the road before they realized you were gone. 

It was foolishly optimistic and absolutely unrealistic (if not impossible), but it was better than the alternative. 

Someone tapped on your shoulder, leaning in to whisper in your ear as you slowly nodded. 

You were walking out, disappearing down a connected hallway, his heart wrenching as he weighed what to do. 

He could follow you – but fuck, there could be an entire firing squad ready just out-of-sight, waiting for him to take the bait. They could just be dangling you in front of his face knowing he’d clamor for any chance to take you. 

And fuck, he wanted to snap his teeth around it so badly. Aching to slip after you, to keep you in view. 

He waited ten seconds. Fifteen.

Wiping his hands on his slacks before slipping towards the hall, unable to resist as he forced himself to not break into a jog or a run in a rush to catch up. 

Counting the seconds, controlling his breathing, cursing himself for being an imbecile as he turned the corner and dipped into the dimly-lit hallway – only for there to be no sign of you. 

He continued down past the next bend, trying to pick up any faint trace of your voice, glancing towards the doors lining his left and right, unsure if he should give them a try or if he had already compromised his position. 

“You shouldn’t have come,” a familiar voice murmured, disappointment dripping from his dark voice. 

He looked over his shoulder. 

A barrel was staring back at him. 

Dark gunmetal, wielded by the person who pushed him onto this path. Your partner. 

“I’m sorry.” 

♡

“You wanted to see me?” 

The corners of your mouth hurt from feigning smiles for so long. Even now, you didn’t let it fall as the door shut behind you – the man who led you here stayed on the other side. 

Leaving you alone with the director. 

You hadn’t spoken to her since your speech. 

It wasn’t that she was avoiding you – and she hadn’t given you the opportunity to avoid her. She was selective on who she chose to see, who she deemed worthy of her precious seconds and minutes. 

Why would she spare any for you? 

You glanced around, discomfort boiling at the realization no one else was occupying the small room. 

It seemed to be their base of operations here. A couple couches, a coffee table, a mini-bar set up against the wall. She was standing next to it, pouring from an expensive bottle of wine into crystal glasses. 

“Yes,” she curtly replied, not looking back but pausing to gesture towards one of the couches for you to sit. 

Were you no better than a moronic mouse already caught under her paw? Had the spring of some invisible trap snapped shut, your tail twitching simply because you dreamed of taking a bite of something too big for you? 

All you could do was sit down anyway, smoothing out your dress as you cleared your throat. 

What were you supposed to say? 

Were you meant to apologize? 

He hadn’t shown up. 

Or well, if he had, you hadn’t spotted him. 

Their bid had failed. 

Were you going to be punished for it? 

“You’ve done everything I’ve asked since you’ve come back,” she dryly said, making it impossible to discern what she was thinking as she walked back over, a glass in each hand. 

She didn’t sit down, but she placed one in front of you, and another across in front of the other couch where you assumed she would eventually settle. 

Was she mocking you? Reminding you that before then, you hadn’t done what she asked? Subtly calling you a traitor in sheep’s skin? 

You didn’t know if you were supposed to reply. 

But your hand twitched as she turned, a thought creeping up that perhaps you had served your purpose already and that the time had come for you to be disposed of. 

Now that was something she’d do personally. Privately. 

Her back was still to you, and as your fingers reached for the glasses to switch them, you recalled a lesson they drilled in your head. 

She already questioned your loyalty. She knew better than to leave you unattended with drinks. 

Shit. 

She thought you were going to switch them. 

You might be overthinking it. 

But you left them there, moving yours over half an inch to make it seem to her you’d clumsily attempted to flip them around, sweat pricking at your hairline as she returned to sit across from you. 

“May I ask you something?” She questioned, and it was so utterly unlike her that you let your surprise register on your face. Blinking as you processed her request, numbly nodding as you nervously ran a finger over your polished nail.

“Of course,” you replied. Your throat felt like it was going to close. Painfully dry and parched as your eyes flicked from her stern face down to the blood red wine.

Was this all a test? 

“Do you think he was worth it?” 

Saying you felt sick was an understatement. 

It was more like icy fear froze you there, nauseous understanding washing over you in one piercing wave as her own nails clicked against the class, taking a long sip of her own wine.

She knew. 

You suspected it already. Who wouldn’t worry? But the confirmation just brought bile up, an acrid taste burning your tongue as you tried to shake your head.

What good was denying it though? 

After all, it was obvious why you were here. 

You had outlived your usefulness. And traitors didn’t just get to walk away. 

“I have only ever wanted to do the right thing,” you stiffly replied, swallowing your fears when you were forced to accept you’d have to face them anyway. 

She laughed in your face. 

“That’s not what we paid you for,” she reminded you. “You were-” 

“You wanted me to frame him,” you breathed before shaking your head. “You want me to now. I have. What else is there for me to do?” 

You’d sold your soul and chopped it into bits for her satisfaction. 

Her smile was cruel. The slight upturn of her matte lips, her eyes narrowing as she let out a little sigh. 

“There isn’t anything left,” she answered, as if you were too stupid to see that for yourself. 

You had fulfilled the last of her needs. 

“Are you really letting me leave then? After this?” You asked, even though the lump in your throat and the liquid in the glass both seemed to scream otherwise. You wrapped your shaking fingers around the stem, bringing it up as you tried to convince yourself it wasn’t going to be poisoned. 

You debated on making it look like you took a sip without actually swallowing, but the way she was staring at you made you feel like a puppet someone had forgotten, unable to move wooden limbs or part your lips to speak properly.

A drink would’ve been nice. 

Something sweet on your tongue to soothe some of the anxiety ravaging your brain as your eyes drifted down from her sardonic stare down to her still-full glass. 

“What do you think?” 

Your mouth opened, but before you could let your final words be fuck you, a loud bang rang out from somewhere inside the building, your body instinctively flinching as your head swiveled to the door. 

No, no, no. 

He wasn’t supposed to be here. He shouldn’t- 

“That’s one down,” she hummed, not so much as a hint of shock registering on her face as she arched a brow towards you. She thought you wouldn’t fight. That she could take advantage of your surprise to make this go according to plan. “One to go.”

You refused to die tonight. Not unless you were taking her with you. 

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a/n: final chapter will be out next weekend <3 thanks for sticking around so long :3