DANGEROUS OBSESSION

7

LAUREN MOSS

There are some benches here, and I sat on one of the last ones, along with the other groups.

Blake, Sasha, Samuel, the one who seems to be named James, and Hailey went to another room upstairs—but not the same one where the other agents I saw earlier are.

Everyone down here is following orders from two agents who are outside, with us, because the entire area has been closed off, and one person from each group has entered the obstacle zone: from Blake’s group, Hailey’s, and Samuel’s.

From what I’ve noticed, James and Sasha deal more with technology than with fieldwork. But honestly, my heart is racing.

To me, what I’m watching is biologically impossible for a human being to do.

I cannot go in there. I will be crushed.

Absolutely.

What have I gotten myself into?

BLAKE WRAY

“Lauren Moss,” my grandfather says, watching her through the glass from up here. She looks confused and scared.

“Her,” I confirm, watching her as well.

“She killed an A-level assassin, did you hear about that, Director?” James comments, bringing coffee.

“You shouldn’t have lost sight of her. If she hadn’t been lucky, she would’ve died, and that’s not what we need right now,” my grandfather says, with his eyes fixed on Jacob Moss’s youngest daughter.

His gaze stays on the testing field, and her expressions are so transparent you can clearly see how scared and lost she is.

“Did Moss let her leave without objecting?” my grandfather asks after a moment.

“There wasn’t any problem, actually. It’s the most chaotic family relationship I’ve ever witnessed,” Samuel comments. “I just had to say she did well with a scientific project, and he didn’t ask another question. None of them did, to be more exact,” Samuel says.

“She doesn’t seem close to any of them,” Samuel continues, and my grandfather simply nods, watching her closely.

And my eyes don’t leave her either.

LAUREN MOSS

Let me explain something to you: this is not a normal training field, not the kind I thought it would be, at least, like police training or military training, which already seem difficult on their own.

But no…

This manages to triple it.

The size of the obstacles is tripled, there are robots—actual robots—in the middle, weapons…

I was trying not to see another one after what happened yesterday, or at least not touch one, but that’s mission impossible for the place I’ve gotten myself into.

“Damn…” I mumble, stunned by their performance.

I feel like a hamster among lions, that’s how good they are.

The women especially…

I have no idea why I’m here.

Ten from each class have already gone, and so far it’s neck-and-neck between Samuel’s group and Hailey’s. Out of ten, eight from my class, in this case, Blake’s class, finished excellently.

The other two finished in second place, one woman and one man.

I… will probably not even arrive last.

They’ll all finish, and I’ll be the one left behind.

That would be humiliating.

Come on, Lauren, we’re not giving up before even starting. The incident from earlier was enough. My heart is trying to escape through my mouth.

By my calculations, when it’s my turn, it’ll be me, a man, and another girl.

And the two of them have that whole “we’re way more athletic than you” aura and look like they’ll leave nothing but dust behind me.

And the pressure on me doesn’t stop, because no one else from Blake’s class has failed to get first place.

And the two who did get second place look slightly terrified.

I would ask why, but it’s obvious after what just happened.

My stomach is hit by a deafening cold, literally. My ears had already stopped processing any sound.

I don’t know if it’s clear yet, but I’m a very competitive person.

Maybe because I always sought my parents’ validation and never received it, even when I tried.

But I simply don’t like disappointing myself, and since I’m already here, my mind demands that I at least be on the same level as them.

Which is kind of impossible, considering I’m a sedentary person who only goes to the gym.

All the nervous-system “deafness” I was feeling vanished when the sound commanding me and the other two to head to the entrance of the field echoed.

My heart threatened to jump out of my mouth instantly.

“Shhh, Lauren…” I mumble to myself, standing up and heading towards the start of the enormous field, trying not to look too nervous.

Each of us stands on our start block, and the glass walls descend.

There’s air conditioning everywhere here.

I take a deep breath.

I’m sweating cold, but trying to process everything I saw the others who reached the goal first do.

I have a good memory.

I just don’t have the physical aptitude.

Yet.

The start sound goes off, and just like that, it’s as if everything I was feeling crumbled, and I began the run.

On the sprint to the first obstacle, I was already a bit behind, but on the climbing wall, I managed to recover.

My arms are strong, and well… I simply used the technique I saw the others using, and that put me a bit ahead of them, reaching the top quickly.

I could jump straight from the top down like they did, but my knee is injured from yesterday, so I used the same technique, but to descend, which made us almost tie again.

Which is not beneficial for me.

Because I’m already breathless, though it’s a victory in itself that I’m not behind them.

BLAKE WRAY

“Impressive,” James comments, watching Moss have a surprisingly good performance for someone like her—sedentary and inexperienced—on an obstacle like that.

“Are you sure she is as sedentary as you said?” James asks Samuel.

“Obviously. We’ve been investigating her for a while, and everyone knows she doesn’t lift more than five kilos at the gym. And that’s on the rare occasions she even decides to go to the gym,” Samuel says, and I smile, observing her while listening to them.

“It’s just genetics. Daughter of a criminal…” Hailey comments, successfully killing whatever good mood we had going on.

The daughter of the man who killed my father.

LAUREN MOSS

Now I understand why the uniform was necessary. I’m relatively behind, but not as much as I thought I’d be.

I stand up from the obstacle fully aware that I need that uniform as soon as possible. Even wearing it, I’m pretty sure I’m scraped all over.

I’m breathless, nearly dying, but stopping here isn’t even an option. Apparently, this airconditioning isn’t doing absolutely anything anymore.

“Ah…” My breathing sounds like, I don’t know, a vacuum cleaner searching for dust, but in my case, it’s just plain lack of air.

“Come on…” I tell myself, motivating myself to pick up the gun in front of me and take down the three robots here. Well… I was never scared of guns until yesterday.

I’ve always been good at aiming—not with guns, but with a bow and arrow. It can’t be that different; you just pull a trigger instead of the bowstring.

I grabbed the protective goggles and hurriedly put them on. Picked up the gun, it’s heavy as hell.

The robots, obviously, aren’t standing still, and it took a whole sacrifice to position the gun the way everyone else did, resting on the shoulder, because it’s really heavy.

It’s bigger than the one I picked up yesterday.

But, well, my advantage is that they’re not that accurate. If I manage to be accurate with the gun, that’ll be a huge plus.

“…” I press my lips together as I squeeze the trigger, after calculating where the robot would pass again. The second the sound echoed, my eyes shut automatically, even with goggles on.

With the shot ringing in my ears, I open my eyes and feel my heart race.

I hit it.

Good, come on, Lauren…

I calculate again and hear the trigger once more… and again.

And I just hit all three consecutively.

“Nice…” I say, happy with myself and honestly a bit surprised I managed to do that before the others. After all, this was practically the last test.

I drop the gun and run breathless towards the button, pressing it.

A step or two behind me, the man here arrives, and I simply collapse to the ground from dizziness.

My vision goes a bit dark, but I pretend I sat down from exhaustion.

I cannot look weak in front of all of them.

But, damn…

I did that!

I really did!?

Is this real?

My vision still isn’t very clear, and I’m breathing like someone shoved me inside a box.

The training field’s glass walls open, and I force myself to stand, brushing the dust off my butt, off my clothes completely marked, and trying to control my breathing, especially after noticing that Blake is here.

The FBI director is here too!

I saw him online when I was researching Blake.

Researching…

It was more like doing a dangerous little investigation, but whatever.

He’s more intimidating than in the picture and not because he’s ugly or anything. Quite the opposite, he’s handsome and very well kept; he doesn’t even look his age.

All the physical training he surely did throughout his life must’ve paid off.

He has this… powerful aura.

His blue eyes are just like Blake’s—just as intense and penetrating.

He’s tall too.

Well, the other agents and the other team of agents, or whatever they are—are here as well. And this is really starting to feel real in my head.

I’m in an FBI special agents’ training base.

How insane is that!?

My heart races and threatens to burst out of my mouth, because not only were their eyes on me, but also the eyes of the recruits.

I hope it’s just surprise, the same as I feel and not because I messed something up again.

No more mistakes and embarrassment for today, please.

They’re all standing where they were sitting before, and we walk towards them.

My eyes look for Blake’s, but he’s no longer looking at me, and he doesn’t seem impressed by anything.

Lauren, why are you wanting validation from an extremely attractive man who learned about your existence yesterday and already wasn’t very fond of you?

“Wasn’t very fond” is a bit strong… but he definitely isn’t appreciative anymore after today, for sure. I hope my performance fixes something.

I pull my gaze away from him, looking ahead, and it’s instantly caught by Hailey’s intense, sharp stare—which makes my heart skip a beat.

Lauren, Lauren…

I ignore it and go to the place where I was before, remaining standing like the others.

“Good morning!” everyone greets the FBI director, and he has an aura… intimidating, just like Blake.

Samuel is not intimidating at all. I barely met him and already feel comfortable around him, or Sasha, or James—who hasn’t spoken much to me yet, but still, I’d stay in the same room as them just fine.

Blake, on the other hand…

Hailey, I won’t even mention.

I didn’t do anything!

Aside from killing a person…

“Good morning,” the director replies. “I’ll be brief,” he says, not in a rude tone, but in one of someone who has other things to do, like dealing with terrible crimes, for example. “I’m satisfied with your performance,” he says, and I smile.

I didn’t hear an “except”… so I’m safe.

“However, the day after tomorrow, three of you, according to our evaluation of your performances, will leave,” he says, and I shiver.

It’s not like I ever dreamed of being a secret agent, except maybe when I was a child.

But now, the last thing I want is to leave and go back to that.

“I remind you that being a secret agent requires much more than physical aptitude and the complementary details are being considered down to the smallest detail. We will only keep the best, those who fit what is required for such a demanding and rigorous job,” he says, and… wow.

Three will be gone already?

But who? They all seemed great to me, and among them, the only clumsy one here is me.

I’m probably one of them, but I don’t want to be.

My panic is already starting.

He did say they’re not only evaluating physical aptitude, which should be a relief for me, right?

But what’s happening? I actually managed to complete this madness here, so he could also be referring to me.

Oh God.

“You,” the director says, his eyes locked in my direction, and my heart threatens to leap out of my mouth.

I look behind me just to confirm he really means me.

“Me?” I kind of ask, pointing at myself.

“Lauren Moss,” he says my name, and I shiver.

“Yes, sir,” I answer, and his eyes observe me carefully.

“You arrived yesterday, correct?” he asks, and I nod.

“Eh… yes,” I answer, a bit uneasy. Why exactly is he asking me that?

Is it because of the criminal I killed, or did I do something wrong again?

“Beautiful performance,” he compliments, and my body instantly melts into relief and happiness. “But remember to wear the proper attire and respect the schedule. That’s the least you must do,” he warns, and my heart skips a beat. He didn’t speak as if he wanted an answer from me, just for me to listen. So all I do is nod.

He pointed out one thing and another, and just when I thought he was leaving and that I could go to Sasha to ask about all this, I hear: “You. Come.” From the director himself.

I’m definitely going to be arrested

.

If this reaches my father’s and my mother’s ears, I’m a dead Lauren. I exhale deeply, watching him and everyone else leave with him.

I break into a cold sweat.

Sasha is the only one who stops and looks back at me, as if saying: come.

So I go after her, with the others already far ahead.

“Why is he calling me?” I ask, following her.

“We’ll find out now, Lauren,” she answers, and I exhale, restless.

“Sasha, can you tell me… is it because of what happened yesterday? Am I going to be arrested?” I ask seriously, my stomach twisting, and she smiles.

“You won’t be arrested. There’s nothing for you to worry about that much,” she assures me, and I sigh, relieved.

If she says I won’t be arrested…

What’s the worst that could happen?

“I hate not knowing what’s happening, how or when it’s going to happen. I feel lost, and I hate it,” I admit as we enter the elevator, and her emerald-green eyes meet mine.

“There’s no reason for you to feel lost,” she says, as if that were possible. “Yesterday, your arrival was… turbulent,” she says, and I exhale deeply. “You needed rest and, well, the information didn’t reach you,” she explains so calmly it almost makes it seem like there really are no problems.

“After this, I’ll help you. But you always have Blake. He’s your tutor and can answer any other questions you have,” she says.

“He doesn’t seem like the type who clarifies doubts,” I comment, and she smiles.

“Yeah…” she says. “He’s a great tutor, but you need him to be in a good mood before asking him anything,” she adds, smiling, and I breathe deeply as the elevator doors open.

Just like the floor we were on before, this place seems ultra-mega protected. There are very few agents, and the ones here are standing guard at the doors on this floor.

Understandable: reinforced security.

“What do you think he wants with me?” I ask.

“I don’t know. We’ll find out now,” Sasha replies, and the door to what is apparently his office opens. A flutter of nerves hits my stomach.

I hope I didn’t do anything too serious.

For them…

After all, I killed someone yesterday. That’s more than serious enough.

I step inside, and the only ones not present are James and Hailey to my satisfaction.

“How may I help?” I say as soon as I enter, apprehensive.

“Sit,” the director says, and I exhale discreetly, sitting down and trying not to look intimidated.

“Lauren Moss,” he says, observing me, and I nod.

“You must be wondering why I called you here,” he says, and I nod again.

“Yes, I…” I answer, stumbling over my words. God! “I killed someone, infiltrated one of your missions, and accidentally killed the criminal you were tracking…” I say already worried and unable to hold it in. “Am I going to be arrested?” I ask, nervous, and after giving me a long look, he smiles.

Well, at least I got a facial expression I can try to interpret.

“No, you won’t,” he states, and I instantly feel relieved hearing it from him.

“However, allow me to remind you that you are merely a recruit. You have no license, no permission to shoot, and even less to kill,” he adds, and I shiver. “You’re not in a cell because you’re one of our recruits and under our protection… for a period depending on your performance,” he explains.

“Does that mean I can go to prison if I end up being one of the people they decide to dismiss?

Lauren, what did you do?

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…” I say, and he gives me a subtle gesture to stop talking.

“If you didn’t mean to, you wouldn’t have acted so impulsively,” he points out, and my pulse speeds up.

“Have you ever handled a gun before?” he asks.

“No…” I say. “Well, yes… technically, but I don’t know how to shoot. Or I thought I didn’t know.”

What am I even saying?

“You shot Ramires, and every shot was precise. And during the test, you hit all the targets consecutively,” Blake says, studying me closely, and I sigh, my face burning as I nod.

“I think I might have a more detailed explanation for that, if you’d like…” I say, and the FBI director gives me a discreet signal to continue.

Lauren, your mouth…

“When I said I had handled a gun before, it’s because my father owns one, and he has a license for it,” I make it known. “Out of curiosity, I touched it once, but I must have been around ten years old, and obviously, it was unloaded. I wasn’t holding it for any reason other than curiosity,” I explain myself, nervous.

“And yesterday, well… these days, I…” My face heats up, but I try to keep a firm posture. “I was looking for some information online,” I try to be as vague as possible.

“About me,” Blake’s voice cuts in, with a slight, convinced smile, and it feels as if every cell in my body decides to explode at once.

Dear God.

Of course they know. Obviously they know.

My God, this is humiliating.

“Why?” they ask, and I wish I could sink into a bottomless pit right now.

“Curiosity,” I say, half hiding the truth. Well… it is the truth. “I saw you at a charity gala organized by Jacob Moss,” I admit under the pressure of their stares.

“Your father,” he points out, and I nod, burning on the inside.

Help!

“Yes, he’s my father,” I respond. “And I had already seen and knew, at least superficially, everyone who was there. Except you,” I explain. “And I wasn’t necessarily curious about you, but about who, exactly, had donated seventy percent of the millions raised at a charity event,” I say, unable to hold eye contact, and instead I look at the director.

“Your research was quite thorough,” the director comments, suggestive, and I sigh, trying not to blush even harder.

“Well, it’s not easy for someone as curious as I am to research something and just stop without finding the answers I was looking for,” I say, defending myself.

I was in a trance—almost obsessive.

“After all, who is the person who donates millions at an event of that scale, is so mysterious, has no social media in the twenty-first century, and has absolutely no articles online about it?” I ask rhetorically, voicing exactly what went through my mind.

“I got carried away, and when I realized it, I had simply been recruited to come here,” I say, stunned.

“It was like flipping a coin,” I confess. “I don’t know how it happened, or when, or even exactly why… but I’m not complaining,” I clarify.

“All I know is that I arrived here with my mind still in the clouds from searching for answers, especially considering the questionable part of the internet I was in,” I say, only so I don’t admit I behaved like Miriam would over a singer who doesn’t even know she exists, when I heard Blake would be part of a mission facing an extremely dangerous criminal.

“I arrived here not knowing where to go, or how, or what I was even doing here, and even less why I was here,” I say.

“I ended up overhearing the conversation by accident and acted impulsively,” I admit. “That’s an unfortunate trait of mine. And I thought—no, actually, I didn’t think at all, because I didn’t think. I just grabbed a motorcycle and went to the place where the criminal was,” I say, half recounting, half venting.

“I don’t know what got into me that instead of turning back, I just kept going. Because when I arrived, there were men twice my size, armed, and from what I heard, extremely dangerous,” I explain. “When it finally sank in, it was already too late. I was going to die fighting that criminal hand-to-hand,” I say, with the events now finally appearing in my mind with clarity.

“He said disgusting things, hit me, and pointed a gun at me…” I shudder, disgusted.

“I had never held a gun in my life, but it was either that or die without even trying to survive,” I say, more to myself than to them now, the pieces of the situation finally falling into place in my

confused mind.

“In the middle of the fight, I was doing everything I could to keep his gun pointed at him, and that’s how it happened. I panicked, and when I finally came back to myself, he was already on the ground in a pool of blood, and I was standing there with the gun in my hand,” I recount under their stares, and I sigh.

Well done, Lauren…

“As for my aim with a gun, I just found out about that myself. But I used to train archery, so that must have helped,” I explain, feeling a little lighter now.