DANGEROUS OBSESSION

8

LAUREN MOSS

“I swear I didn’t mean to kill him, I had never even hurt anyone before…” I say, and I sigh, remembering that I’m talking to people who probably know more about my life than I do.

“Actually, I have hurt my sister’s friend before, and that was intentional, but not to kill her, obviously. I’ve never killed anyone; that was never my intention,” I clarify, watching all of them with their eyes on me.

It feels like I’m in a confessional, and my tongue just unravels without them needing to say a single word.

“You must have good genes to get through an obstacle like that without ever training for it,” Sasha comments into the deafening silence around us.

BLAKE WRAY

At this moment, we are in Christopher’s office, my grandfather, who is sitting face-to-face with the daughter of the man who murdered my father, his son.

I can only imagine the different emotions he must be feeling while looking at her and listening to her speak in front of him. Because I’m feeling the same, and, unlike him, I’m trying to find the patience to handle this in the best way possible. He actually has patience; I don’t. If it were up to me, that bastard would already be six feet under the ground. And she wouldn’t be here, in front

of me.

What does she have to do with this, you ask?

She is the daughter of my father’s killer. She carries his genes, and even though there’s confusion about what is her fault and what isn’t, my anger prevails.

Sasha made an obvious comment, and tension settled over the room.

I see her almond-shaped eyes narrow slightly; her black eyes are so intense they make her gaze innocently attractive just by how expressive it is.

“I don’t know how genetics could interfere in that, because as far as I know, the most exercise my father does is golf. As for my brothers, well, I have no idea. And for my mom and sister, it’s shopping. I think I’m more athletic than my whole family combined,” she says, shrugging, genuinely believing that’s all her father does.

“I didn’t think I’d finish the course, but I watched the others who did and tried to replicate it… Apparently it worked,” she says, and it’s no surprise.

She doesn’t know it, but she has an impressive IQ. Still, we didn’t think that would have any direct interference with her physical aptitude, which is far from the best.

“Did I say something wrong?” she asks in the middle of our silence.

LAUREN MOSS

“I mean… as you know, this is a highly confidential agency, and unlike the others, one of our agents went to your house to make sure your family wouldn’t suspect anything. It’s important that you cooperate while you’re here, and your location will not be available to anyone while you remain here, let that be clear,” the director says, and I suppose they did something to my phone yesterday. After all, my father’s security team would’ve found me otherwise.

“Of course,” I reply, with my stomach twisting from how nervous I am right now. “My parents won’t look for me, you don’t have to worry.” I only say that, and they nod.

I don’t tell them my parents are probably celebrating that I’m not home, because it’s enough that I know they don’t really care about me.

“Uh…” I stammer nervously. “Can I… help with anything else?” I ask, wanting to disappear from here already.

“You’re dismissed,” he replies, and I nod as I stand up.

I feel like I’m in an interrogation again. But this time, I managed to defend myself a little more, even though I’m just as tense.

“With your permission,” I say, and I see him signal to Sasha, who leaves the office with me.

I’m nervous.

Extremely nervous.

If I walk out of here, I’ll be arrested.

Do I want that?

No.

Obviously not! And I’m scared.

Where was my head at?

I walk to the elevator without saying anything, too stunned to speak.

We enter the elevator, and the scene from yesterday torments my head.

How did things change so drastically in less than twenty-four hours?!

Right now, I should be in college… but instead, I’m in a secret FBI base, talking to the freaking Director of the FBI, holding weapons heavier than I am, with a dirty record…

After all, I killed someone, to top it off.

And now, to avoid prison, because I acted impulsively and ended up committing the most horrendous crime possible… I need to do well here. Otherwise, I will go to prison, and my parents would absolutely leave me there, just to avoid staining the reputation they care more about than anything.

God…

And all of this… simply because of a man I had only seen once in my life until then. Well, in my defense, he doesn’t look like anyone I’ve ever seen.

The elevator doors close.

“You shouldn’t worry,” Sasha says, breaking the silence, and I lift my eyes to hers.

“They’re going to remove three people from here, and if I’m one of them, I’ll spend my entire youth behind bars for a murder. A murder, Sasha!” I exclaim. “My parents won’t make the slightest effort to get me out,” I say, trying not to show how nervous I am.

“After such an unusual performance of yours today, I wouldn’t be worried, if you allow me to say so,” she says.

“You really think so?” I ask, hopeful, and she nods.

“Come on, focus on what actually matters from now on,” she says as the elevator doors open.

She walks ahead, and I follow her.

“It’s all I can do,” I say, walking with her to the room I was in with them yesterday.

She scans her ID on this weird contraption, which authorizes the entrance, and the gray doors slide open, allowing us in.

“What is this girl doing here, Sasha?”

Great.

Hailey says it the moment she sees me walking in with Sasha, who rolls her eyes.

I don’t get it… Are they friends or not?

“This room belongs to Blake and our team, Hailey. The real question is: what are you doing here?” Sasha replies, and I can’t stop myself from smiling.

“I am part of the team, dear Sasha,” she says, and I sigh, trying to ignore her.

“Only for one mission. You have no reason to be here if we’re not dealing with that mission,” Sasha says, messing with something on the table.

“Wow! We left you alone for not even a minute…” I hear Samuel’s voice, and I look back, seeing not only him, but also Blake, James, and a girl who seems to be an agent too.

She’s extremely beautiful.

“Irika!” Sasha exclaims, sounding genuinely happy to see her. I dare say everyone is, because even Blake is smiling.

She must be really nice.

“Sasha!” she says, returning Sasha’s excitement, though her exhaustion is obvious. She loosens her ponytail as she pulls away from Sasha’s hug.

“I’m glad to see you made it back safely,” Hailey says, giving her a smile that doesn’t look fake, maybe just hesitant.

“Thank you!” Irika says, tossing her things onto the couch where James had been sitting yesterday, throwing a ball at the opposite wall.

Then she finally turns to me, and her brown eyes meet mine.

“Humn…” she murmurs, making a discreet face toward the boys, who have scattered to the other side of the room. Then she looks back at me, this time with a small smile.

“New recruit, welcome!” she says playfully, extending her hand towards me.

I like her energy, she feels just as pleasant as Sasha.

I shake her hand.

“Thank you!” I say. “My name is…” I was about to introduce myself so she’d stop calling me “new recruit,” but she cuts me off.

“Lauren Moss. I’ve always wanted to meet you,” she says, and I frown slightly, surprised.

“I’m Irika, as you can see. Secret special agent and the second-best in this whole team, only behind Blake, of course,” she says, and I smile.

“Hey!” James, Sasha, and Samuel protest, pretending to be offended, while Blake simply flashes the most attractive, smug smile I’ve ever seen in my life.

James throws a ball at Irika, and the way she catches it is downright impressive.

I’m starting to question my entire existence here.

“Nice to meet you,” I reply, already starting to feel like I’m intruding.

“The pleasure is all mine. I told you I wanted to meet you. You seem surprised,” she says, sitting down.

“People don’t usually want to meet me,” I say.

“I can imagine why,” Hailey mutters, and I’m already exhausted.

“Do you have a specific problem with me?” I turn to her, fed up. I’ve been trying my best to be respectful and nice to everyone, but they paint me as the black sheep for some reason. And that reason is probably that I don’t keep my mouth shut when people drain every last drop of my patience.

“This isn’t your place. You shouldn’t be so comfortable here,” she says, and I sigh.

“From what I heard, it’s not yours either,” I reply, and watch her bite her lower lip in anger.

“I didn’t do anything to you, so don’t project your insecurities onto me,” I say clearly, because I assume she’s acting like this because of Blake and what I said about him during the interrogation.

“What insecurities? Do you really think you have anything I’d compare myself to, to feel insecure?” she asks, sarcastic, and I smile.

“Oh, oh, oh!” someone says somewhere behind us, but I ignore it.

“Your tone gives you away,” I say, staring at her and smiling back. “The way you’re acting is irritating.” I continue, “I just came to pick something up with Sasha, and then I’m leaving.” I make that clear and look away from her towards Sasha, who smiles while grabbing a paper and a card.

“That’s why I wanted to meet you,” Irika says, but I try not to add fuel to the fire like she is.

I feel Blake’s gaze on me, but I don’t dare look at him.

“Here you go, Lauren,” Sasha says, handing me the papers, and I take them. “Your uniform was already sent to your room,” she informs me.

“It has your schedule and your identification card,” she explains.

“All right, thank you!” I say, and she nods.

The gray doors slide open, this time by Hailey, but whatever, I was leaving anyway.

“You’re welcome!” Sasha replies.

“Bye!” I say, waving to the others as I head toward the door.

“Bye!” I hear them reply, except for Hailey and Blake.

As soon as I step out, I release the air from my chest, overwhelmed by the amount of agony and anger bottled inside me.

I’m done.

I take a deep breath and head straight to the elevator nervous, angry, and scared. Every emotion possible is stuffed inside me.

I step into the elevator and press the same button Sasha pressed yesterday, when she took me to… whatever that was. The recruits’ building? The recruits’ base?

Whatever it is.

I lean back against the elevator wall and inhale deeply, trying to stay calm. There are cameras everywhere, and I don’t want to look like a psycho breaking down in here.

Ugh…

BLAKE WRAY

“Woke up on the wrong side of the bed, Hailey?” Irika asks her, and Hailey sighs, lifting her gaze toward me. Her face flushes.

“If only. Did you see that girl?” she asks irritably. “Don’t you think she’s being favored more than the rest?” she directs at me, and I choose to ignore the fact that she thinks she has the right to question me.

“As far as I know, she’s my business only,” I reply, staring at her, and I watch her bite her lower lip, annoyed. “There’s no reason for you to act so emotional,” I add, and she sighs, breaking eye contact.

“She talked back to me. She still thinks she’s under her father’s protection and can act however she wants, that must be it…” she keeps ranting, and I just take another sip of the coffee Irika brought me when she arrived.

“Let’s be honest, little Hail…” Samuel says casually while looking at something on the panel.

“She didn’t do anything. You picked a fight with her, and well, she showed she doesn’t take crap from anyone.”

“Whose side are you on?” Hailey asks, outraged.

“Good Lord!” Sasha exclaims, fed up. “You want us to form a support group for you against someone who, until yesterday, didn’t even know you existed?” she asks. “Please, right?” Sasha adds, exhausted, and we all feel the same.

“I think you guys are forgetting who she is and why she’s here,” Hailey finally says after a moment of silence, and I sigh.

“No one forgot anything,” I say, frustrated, and they all look at me.

“That’s not what it looks like,” she says, staring at me. And the amount of anger her comment sparks in me is indescribable.

“You’re saying it was a pleasure meeting her and emphasizing it!” she says to Irika, who has the same expression as I do.

“I don’t know what kind of night you had, but as you can see, mine was very intense as well, and I’m not in the mood to listen to such nonsense,” Irika replies. “Unlike you, all of us know exactly who she is and why she’s here. Don’t dig up what’s already settled or ruin everything before it even starts because of your baseless whims, Hailey,” she says, and I smile.

“All right, I’ll stay quiet,” Hailey says. “But I warned you…” she adds.

“And why did you have to lie saying you wanted to meet her? You’re going to inflate her ego for no reason.”

“I thought you were going to stay quiet,” Sasha says, and I step closer to Samuel to help him finish the process we’re working on faster.

“I didn’t lie. Out of everyone in that family of killers, she’s the only one with personality, better fashion sense, and… You know, she’s been stealing the media’s attention for a while now, not to mention she’s smart,” Irika says.

“If only she stopped being a hypocrite…” Sasha mutters, and that’s enough.

“Back to work,” I order, and that’s more than enough to make them all shut up and focus on the next mission we have.

This one, apparently, is going to be fun.

LAUREN MOSS

I arrive at the base, and well, they’re all here. From my group, that is. Most likely, the others have their own training bases with their respective mentors.

I barely glance at them as I enter and head straight to my little room. I grab the keycard and open the door, locking it behind me.

“God, have mercy on me and give me mental, emotional support and patience, because that’s the last thing You’ve blessed me with,” I mutter, placing the papers down in the living area and walking to the bedroom, sighing deeply.

I need Miriam.

“Argh…” I mumble, irritated, already overwhelmed, and feeling like crying and screaming.

My body aches from yesterday’s exertion and today’s chaos. And from what I can tell, this isn’t even a third of what’s to come.

On top of that, there are consequences from my own actions, which could now land me in prison if I don’t perform at the same level as everyone here.

If I fail, I go to jail.

I hope God understands that I didn’t kill that criminal out of personal will or intention; I was simply trying to defend myself from the situation I found myself in.

Let Him send me to heaven, not the opposite place.

“Lauren, what were you thinking?” I ask myself, dialing Miriam’s number and putting it on speaker as I call.

While I pick up a few things I had left around and try to organize them, she finally answers.

“Lauren?” she asks, and I frown.

“Me? Don’t tell me you already deleted my number?” I ask, finishing tidying what I had messed up and heading to the bathroom.

I leave my phone on the sink and take off my clothes.

“Of course not. But here it simply doesn’t show up, and it’s been hard to call you. I’ve been trying since this morning,” she says, and I nod.

That explains a lot.

“They must have done something,” I say, removing my clothes.

“Tell me, how are things there? What happened when you got there? What’s it like? And Blake?” she asks, and I feel my body heat up when she mentions his name.

“Calm down…” I say, overwhelmed by all the questions she’s throwing at me. “The most important question is: how did you let me get to this point?” I ask, undoing my ponytail.

“I think you don’t see yourself, Lau. When you put something in your head…” she says, and I sigh, wanting to cry.

“I killed someone, Miriam…” I whimper, truly feeling it eating away at me, and I was trying to ease this anguish when I left there.

“I know…” she says, and I sigh. “But it was a killer. Think of it as avenging thousands of victims he murdered, and still, you didn’t kill him, you defended yourself from him. Otherwise, you’d have been one of his victims,” she says, and I smile.

“I thought you’d tell me something reckless, but this kind of helps me not feel like a murderer,” I say, and I hear her sigh on the other end of the line.

“Think with me: you’re there, and everyone there has killed countless people. You’re surrounded by killers,” she says.

“Now you’re not helping,” I let her know. “They can kill, it’s their job,” I clarify.

“And now yours! Weren’t you recruited?” she asks.

“Miriam, I was recruited for training; I’m not an agent. You should see the recruits here and the agents too,” I comment. “They have a license to kill; they’re trained for it,” I tell her.

“Meanwhile, I’m not an agent, I have no license for anything, and I’m not even an aspiring special agent at this level. I’m having an existential crisis and have no idea what I’m doing here,” I say, frustrated.

“Calm down, Lau. If you weren’t capable of being there, you certainly wouldn’t be,” she says, and I try to believe her. “And also, if you’re not in jail, it means you won’t be. After all, if they wanted to arrest you, they would have already, don’t you think?” she asks, and I smile, reluctantly.

“Oh, and I still could be. If they remove me from this training for not being good enough, meaning I won’t be an agent, I’ll go to prison because I simply won’t be under their care anymore,” I confess, feeling the pressure.

“Lau…” she stammers, and I can see her putting her hands over her mouth. “But…” she tries to find something to ease the situation.

“But nothing, Miriam,” I say. “I’m going to prison. The recruits here are a thousand times better than me. You have no idea the embarrassment I went through today, and it hasn’t even been a full day. Do you think I’ll make it here?” I ask rhetorically, already coming to terms with it.

“Everything is too much for me. My body aches, I’m tired, I’m glad I’m not locked up in that mansion, but this… I don’t know if I can handle it,” I say. “And it’s not like I can quit or run away, because I’d get arrested. Ugh, what have I done?” I’m freaking out.

“Lauren, think with me. You’re saying all the recruits are good, but you’re there. They may be more athletic than you, since they started training before you, but if you’re there, it’s because you’re just as good as them. There’s no reason to belittle yourself over it,” she says, and I sigh.

“I did a hundred push-ups today, can you believe it?” I ask, still in disbelief.

“What?!” she asks, obviously incredulous.

“Seriously?!” she exclaims.

“I’m serious,” I affirm. “And my arms are so sore and weak that only God knows how I’m going to recover in time,” I comment.

“But why? Was it part of the training?” she asks, curious.

“I wish it were…” I murmur, washing my face. “Let me tell you!” I say.

“I got here right after leaving the mansion, and well, I was kind of in trouble for getting involved where I shouldn’t have, because lately making mistakes has become my hobby,” I say, drying my face and putting my AirPods in to take a shower and talk to her.

“There’s an agent here, and her beauty is proportional to her arrogance,” I say. “She’s the one who took my phone from me, at the place where everything happened,” I continue, still irritated.

“And I found out she’s Blake’s ex-girlfriend. What happened?” I ask rhetorically. “They did an interrogation, and obviously they knew I’d been spending my nights in the darkest corners of the internet looking for information about him. I had to confess it,” I admit, blushing.

“I can see where this is going,” she says.

“Huhum…” I affirm. “She’s completely fixated on me now!” I gossip. “It’s not like I said I was interested in him, and even if that was the case—which it’s not—what does it matter that she’s an ex?” I ask, outraged.

“Nothing. I thought… until I simply lost my patience just now because she was treating me like some nothing, when I hadn’t done a single thing against her,” I say, frustrated.

“Well, someone wants to get back together, and it’s clearly not Blake,” she states the obvious, while I turn on the handheld shower and start my quick bath.

“But what about you two?” she suddenly asks.

“What about us, Miriam?” I ask, confused.

“You and Blake?” she insists, and I roll my eyes.

BLAKE WRAY

“Miriam, when did Blake and I ever exist?” I hear Lauren ask her friend through the device installed in her room, while I handle some bureaucratic matters here.

“He’s not my type, and it’s not like I did all this because of him,” she says, and I frown, leaning back in my chair.

Not her type?

I wonder what her type actually is, then.

“He’s literally everyone’s type—man, woman, whatever the gender. No wonder you went crazy out of nowhere and ended up there,” unlike her, her friend is honest.

“I didn’t go crazy; I ended up there just out of curiosity. I’d never seen him before, and I’ve been attending charity galas for as long as I can remember. My mom, even my dad, couldn’t stop talking about him,” Lauren says.

Interesting.

“I was curious about the mysterious young man who donated over seventy percent of the total collected at the entire ceremony and left my dad impressed. You know that event is chaotic,” she says.

“And not because he’s a little cute.” Cute?

Did she just call me cute? In diminutive form?

“Alright, I’ll pretend I haven’t been your friend since forever and that I don’t know you’ve been attracted to him since the moment your beautiful eyes saw him,” her friend says, and hmm… well, that’s obvious.

“You don’t care about anyone’s money or who’s at the charity gala…” her friend continues.

“You hate it!” she emphasizes.

“Miriam…” Moss says to her friend. “If I may continue… I’d say he doesn’t live up to his looks. He’s quite… unfriendly,” hmm, she thought so?

“He barely spoke to me, and look, I’m part of his group,” she explains. “He made me do those hundred push-ups just because I was two minutes late to the field here, when in reality, I didn’t even know where I was supposed to go, what I was supposed to wear, or what I was supposed to do…”

Is she complaining about me?

“He seems demanding,” her friend comments.

“He’s rude!”

So much judgment for so little time together, Moss.

“He knows he’s handsome and acts like he knows it, the typical stereotype that isn’t and never was my type,” she lies, clearly.

“Anyways, everything here is really turbulent,” Lauren says, ending the topic. “I wasn’t going to ask, but did my parents ask anything about me?” she asks her friend.

“No…” she responds, somewhat hesitant.

“I don’t even know why I insist on knowing,” Lauren says, and I turn it off.

I have a mission to take care of now.

LAUREN MOSS

Well, I told Miriam everything and then some more. After all, she’s the only one I really have, and I needed to talk, to vent. I feel at least a little relieved.

Because it’s definitely better to be here than there.

And, well, I think I like it here, even though I started not just on the wrong foot, but with the wrong hand too—talk about bad luck.

But, at the same time, I have no choice but to at least try to be good enough to belong here.

More action in my life?

I’ve always wanted that.

Free from my parents and siblings…

From that toxic environment I so desperately wanted to escape, and finally did. And, well, also to avoid ending up in prison.

That’s my main motivation for now.

I took a shower to get rid of the sweat and dust, and then I went out.

I found the uniforms in the closet, but I didn’t even touch them. I went to sort the clothes in the washing machine instead.

I put the outfit I had worn earlier into the machine and took out the clothes that were drying, already in my pajamas.

I went to the living room to grab the schedule sheet, and, being so sore and exhausted, I simply set alarms for everything I could: the alarm by the bedside, my phone, so I could wake up on time.

And then I just fell asleep, completely drained.

I woke up to two alarms tormenting my ears.

“Good grief…” I mutter, turning them off and stretching. I feel less tired, but the pain…

Still lingers in my body.

I run my hand over my face, trying to wake up properly. And once I muster some strength, I get out of bed and head to the bathroom.

I do my oral hygiene, which fully wakes me up, wash my face properly, no skincare for now, and get myself ready for the morning.

I take off my pajamas and put on the uniform, which doesn’t look like the ones worn earlier.

This one seems more athletic.

I slip on my sneakers, and, well, with these pieces, I actually feel like an agent, even though I’m not. It’s comfortable, though a little tight on my body.

But it doesn’t look bad at all.

I apply gloss to my lips and a little perfume. For my hair, I simply braid it along the length of my ponytail, and that’s it.

I don’t do anything else.