Page 1 of Protect Thy Enemy

Chapter One

Holden

THE SURVEILLANCE FEED crackles to life on the monitor in front of me, shadows and static swallowing most of the detail. The room is dim, illuminated only by the cold glow of screens lining the walls. It smells like stale coffee and burnt rubber.

It doesn’t matter. I already know what I’m looking at.

Another dead end.

I’ve watched this footage at least a hundred times, each angle promising answers but delivering nothing in a cruel loop of futility.

I sit back in the chair, the cold edge of the table pressing against my forearms, and let the silence stretch. The file in front of me, the one stamped with bold red letters readingCONFIDENTIAL, is a puzzle I should’ve pieced together by now.

Every lead turns into another layer of bullshit I still can’t prove.

This wasn’t supposed to be my night. It wasn’t supposed to be anything.

It was a whim.

One I couldn’t explain.

It’s been years since I’ve thought about that night. But something pulled me back as I placed another box back in the storage room, an invisible but insistent hand on my shoulder.

For reasons I can’t name, I pulled the file from the stack, grabbed the footage, and came here. The thought of Leo’s face had crept into my mind out of nowhere, unwanted and unshakable.

And now, here I was, watching ghosts flicker on the screen, chasing a shadow I’d vowed to let go.

I flip the folder open again, the sharp scent of ink hitting my nose as I scan the familiar pages of names, dates, and coordinates. It's the same as the last time I saw it. Still as meaningless without context. My jaw tightens as I reach the photo stapled to the top-right corner.

Leo.

His face is frozen in time, the faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth a reminder of who he used to be. And who I used to be before everything went to hell.

I push the folder aside and cut the footage, running a hand down my face. This isn’t getting me anywhere.

“Grant.”

The voice snaps me out of my thoughts. I glance up to see Harris standing in the doorway, his broad frame silhouetted against the dim light of the hall.

“Sir?” I ask, my tone clipped.

He steps inside, not bothering to wait for an invitation. He drops two files onto the desk. The maroon folders mark them as rookies, fresh out of Federal Law Enforcement Training Center training, or FLETC, as most people call it.

I don’t bother waiting for the request. “Give them to someone else.”

“No,” he replies. “This isn’t a request. They’re yours. You and Tate.”

My jaw tightens. The tension between us hangs thick as I let his words settle. I can see in his expression that there’s no point in arguing. Whatever this is, it was decided long before he walked through the door.

I take my time picking up the first file and flipping it open.Arden Williams. Top marks in firearms, hand-to-hand combat, and tactical assessments. Driven. Relentless. A recruit who looks good on paper.

But her photo stops me cold.

She’s stunning in a way that makes my gut tighten, but not for the reasons you’d expect. Her beauty isn’t soft or inviting. It’s sharp enough to cut. Her dark eyes hold an edge, a familiarity that twists something inside me.

I’ve seen countless files. Nothing about this one should stand out. But it does.

Her looks don’t unnerve me. It’swhoshe resembles—the ghost I’ve spent years trying to forget. The very one that led me to the surveillance room.

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