Agent In The Shadows
704 Words
Chapter 3
Dominic Vance had lived the past five years like a man dancing on the edge of a knife.
At twenty-eight, he was already one of the government’s top covert agents — not because he wanted to be, but because life had pushed him into it. Growing up in the rougher district of the city, Dominic had learned early that softness was a luxury. He had a sharp tongue, sharper instincts, and a cocky, sassy attitude that infuriated superiors and intimidated rookies.
But under it, he was dangerously competent.
Too competent.
Which was why, once again, he found himself running for his life.Turning from death at every corner.Crying inwardly he wanted a vacation.
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Tonight’s mission had gone sideways — badly. He’d uncovered something bigger than expected: a smuggling ring tied to a political scandal, something worth killing to keep hidden. The second he stole their data chip, he became their number one target.
Now, footsteps thundered behind him as he sprinted through narrow alleyways, breath burning in his lungs. The streets were dark and slick with rain. Adrenaline pushed him forward, but exhaustion gnawed at him.
“Perfect,” Dominic muttered as he vaulted over a dumpster. “Five years in the special forces, and I’m still one mission away from dying young. Fantastic career choice.”
His tone was dripping with sarcasm even while bullets whizzed past him.
He wasn’t ready to die. Not tonight. Not over something this stupid.
He darted toward a large apartment building and slipped inside just before a patrol car rolled past. The stairwell was silent. Too silent. He needed to disappear — fast.
Then he saw it.
A door.
Left ajar.
Not wide open, but not fully closed either. A careless mistake — or a gift from the universe.
Dominic didn’t hesitate. He slipped inside and gently shut it, pressing his back against the door as he listened for footsteps outside.
Nothing.
A long, shaky breath escaped him. “Finally… a break.”
He turned around.
And froze.
There, lying on a sofa in the dimly lit living room, was a petite woman, curled up as if she’d collapsed mid-breath. Her hair was messy, her clothes wrinkled, and the scent of alcohol drifted from her like a cloud.
“Oh, great,” Dominic whispered, rubbing his forehead. “I break into an apartment and find a drunk, sleeping Snow White.”
He stepped closer, brow arching.
She was small. Delicate-looking. The place around her was a disaster zone—clothes strewn across the floor, empty takeout containers, a half-finished mug of something on the table.
Dominic clicked his tongue.
“I swear,” he muttered, hands on his hips like an annoyed parent. “How does a woman this pretty live in a place this messy?”
Despite the danger he’d just escaped, the nagging workaholic part of him kicked in. He couldn’t help it. Years of discipline and order made chaos a personal enemy.
Before he realized it, he began picking things up — stacking books, throwing away trash, and straightening the blanket tossed across the back of the sofa.
“Unbelievable,” he grumbled under his breath as he cleaned. “I’m hiding from assassins, and here I am… tidying a stranger’s apartment. My enemies would laugh if they saw this.”
He muttered to himself in irritation — and yet he didn’t stop.
Maybe he needed the distraction.
Maybe he was just that tired.
Or maybe something about the quietly sleeping girl softened the edges of his usual defences.
He paused, finally done rearranging, and looked at her again.
Her face was peaceful, almost heartbreakingly innocent. But there was something else beneath it — faint traces of dried tears, smudged mascara, the kind of pain you don’t get from alcohol alone.
Dominic’s jaw tightened.
“Who broke you?” he whispered.
She didn’t stir.
Outside, danger still lurked, but inside that small apartment, a strange calm settled over him — one he had not felt in years.
He didn’t know her name.
He didn’t know her story.
But fate had brought him through her unlocked door.
And neither of them knew how much this one accident would change both their lives forever.
- Writer
