It had been three days since Mira read her own file, but the lines still haunted her.
Subject deemed manipulable through emotional channels.
The phrase played on repeat in her mind like a looped recording of someone else's nightmare. Only it wasn't someone else—it was hers. And she wasn't manipulable anymore.
Not now.
Not ever again.
---
Mira stood in front of the hotel mirror, wearing a different version of herself. All black. Turtleneck. No jewelry. No lipstick. Hair pulled back in a tight, no-nonsense bun. Jace watched from behind, silent.
"You're sure about this?" he asked.
"No."
"You don't have to do it this way."
She met his eyes in the reflection. "Yes. I do."
Her plan was insane. Cal had said as much. Even Nia had muttered something about "bond-villain level risk." But Mira knew this was the only way to rattle Eli—and Kelsey.
Especially Kelsey.
Because Mira had figured it out. Not everything. But enough.
The betrayal hadn't just come from Eli's obsession or Jace's omissions.
It had come from friendship. From trust twisted into leverage.
She needed answers.
And she knew where to get them.
---
It was raining when she arrived.
The old café hadn't changed—still overpriced cappuccinos and heavy, mismatched mugs. The kind of place Mira and Kelsey used to spend hours in, back when secrets didn't sit between them like loaded weapons.
Kelsey was already there, exactly as Mira predicted. Alone. Looking too comfortable.
She froze when she saw Mira.
"Mira…"
"Surprised?"
"You're supposed to be in hiding."
"I got bored."
Kelsey stood slowly. "You shouldn't be here."
"You shouldn't be working with him."
Her old friend flinched. "It's not what you think."
"No?" Mira sat down across from her, cool and calm. "You didn't report back to him about me? You didn't stage a fake reunion to keep tabs on where I was, what I was doing, who I was with?"
"I didn't—" Kelsey started, but stopped. "It wasn't like that."
Mira leaned in, voice low. "Tell me what it was like."
Kelsey looked away.
Then: "He said you needed help. That you were unraveling. I thought I could protect you."
"By spying on me?"
"I didn't want to. But then things got complicated. He… He had something on me."
"What?"
Kelsey's jaw clenched. "Something I did a long time ago. Something I can't afford to let get out. He used it to keep me close."
Mira's heart stung. "You should've told me."
"I wanted to."
"And now?"
Kelsey reached into her bag and slid something across the table.
A flash drive.
"What is it?" Mira asked.
"Proof," Kelsey said. "Not everything. But enough. Conversations, payments, tracker logs. I've been collecting them for months. In case I ever got brave enough to stop pretending."
Mira stared at the drive.
Kelsey added softly, "He doesn't know I have it. But if he finds out—"
"Then you'll finally understand how I felt," Mira said. "Every time he looked at me like I was a puzzle he had the cheat code for."
---
That night, Mira handed the flash drive to Nia, who raised an eyebrow and plugged it into her air-gapped machine.
Jace leaned against the wall behind them, tense.
Within seconds, Nia's eyes went wide. "Holy hell."
"What?" Mira asked.
"This isn't just about Eli watching you," Nia said. "This is… bigger. Way bigger."
She tapped a few keys, isolated one file.
"Look at this."
A surveillance log.
Dated six months ago.
Target: Mira Lane
Objective: Monitor proximity to Subject JW (Jace Wyatt).
Note: If Subject Lane proves unreliable or uncontrollable, initiate fallback plan Omega—activate dormant asset.
Jace straightened. "What the hell is Fallback Plan Omega?"
Nia opened a second file. This one had Mira's photo at the top—timestamped, tagged.
Underneath: Asset Status: PREPARED
Under that: Handler: CHARLES DARROW
Mira whispered, "Eli's father."
"And here," Nia said, pointing to another line. "Cross-reference between you and a second name. Recognize it?"
Mira blinked.
Then her mouth fell open.
"No way."
Jace stepped forward. "Who is it?"
She turned, voice ice-cold.
"My mother."
---
The rest of the night unraveled like a thread caught on a nail.
Mira had never spoken much about her family. Her mother had left when she was fifteen—vanished without a note. Everyone assumed it was another case of burnout, maybe a mental health spiral.
But now there was a file. And a name.
"Her real name wasn't Claire Lane," Nia said. "It was Claire Derren. Former MI6 handler. Went dark in 1999. Resurfaced once, in Berlin. Then nothing. Until this."
A single image: a grainy shot of Mira's mother, older, eyes harder. Walking beside Charles Darrow in what looked like a private airfield hangar.
Dated just a year ago.
"My entire life," Mira whispered. "I thought she'd left me."
Jace put a hand on her shoulder.
"She didn't leave me," Mira said. "She was taken."
---
By dawn, the team had shifted into full operational mode. Nia working the flash drive. Cal calling in favors. Jace mapping out what few connections they had to Charles Darrow's old security syndicate.
And Mira?
Mira started preparing a message.
Not for Eli.
Not for her mother.
But for everyone watching.
Because she understood now: she wasn't a pawn.
She was the queen.
And queens didn't wait to be moved.