Page 47 of Protect Thy Enemy

For once, it’s not his words or brooding presence throwing me off. It’s the name Gran mentioned yesterday. Leo. The word lingers like a splinter under my skin, festering with unspoken questions.

Could he really be my father? And if he is, could Agent Grant possibly know who he is?

“Williams, move.”

Grant’s voice jolts me out of my thoughts. I blink and realize I’ve hesitated in the doorway, the faint tension of a tripwire catching my eye a second too late.

“You keep missing this,” he says, his tone clipped. He steps forward, his hand brushing mine as he points out the wire.

Once again, the contact is brief, but it sends a jolt through me this time. This time, it goes down to my core. My chest tightens as I force myself to nod. “Got it.”

“No,” he counters, stepping back as if he could read my thoughts. His piercing blue eyes lock onto mine, colder than ice. “If you had, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

“Understood, sir,” I grit out, the heat rising in my chest.

I don’t get it.

One minute, he’s pushing me so hard I can barely breathe. The next, he’s… watching me.Like he cares.

But that’s not possible.

Grant doesn’tcare. Not about me.

Not about anything.

So why does it feel like I’m missing something?

He gestures toward the starting point. “Run it again.”

The words feel sharper this time as if he’s daring me to fail.

I reset the simulation. My movements are mechanical, but my mind isn’t on the task at hand. Instead, it circles back to Leo. To the government job Gran mentioned. To the way Grant’s presence gnaws at me, like he knows something I don’t.

When I step into the mock hallway, I know I need to say something. I need answers, even if they’re just breadcrumbs to lead me in the right direction.

I glance at him over my shoulder. “Agent Grant.”

He raises an eyebrow, clearly annoyed. “What?”

I hesitate, my heart pounding in my ears. “Do you know someone named Leo?”

For a moment, the room feels too still. His expression doesn’t shift, but there’s a flicker—barely perceptible, but there. His grip tightens on the edge of the table, and he takes a second too long to answer. “Leo who?”

“I’m not sure,” I admit, my voice quieter now. Vulnerability isn’t something I like showing, especially not with my boss, but the question demands it. “I think he might’ve worked here a while ago.”

Grant’s jaw tightens, and for the first time, his mask slips. Just slightly. “I don’t know anyone by that name,” he says, but the words are too measured, too precise to be entirely true.

The disappointment hits harder than I expect, but I cover it with a shrug. “Forget I asked. It’s silly.”

“Rookie,” he says, but I shake my head.

“Seriously. It doesn’t matter.” My voice softens as I return to the simulation, though I can feel his eyes on me, heavy and unrelenting.

The rest of the session passes in a blur of movements and commands. I complete every task with precision, but my mind is elsewhere.

When it’s over, I unclip my vest and catch his gaze from across the room. There’s a guarded expression on his face. It's moreunreadable than usual. But before I can figure out what it is, he turns away.

Leo. The name hangs between us like smoke, filling the space with questions neither of us seems willing to ask.

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