PROTECTION AGENCY

The training center smelled of sweat, metal, and early-morning determination. My muscles burned pleasantly as I completed my last set of drills, each movement sharp and precise—just the way they trained us to be. The sun had barely risen, filtering through the high windows and throwing long bars of yellow light across the floor. It should have been peaceful. It never was. I had just dropped from a final push-up when a shadow fell across me. “Gina, the commander wants to see you.” Jill, one of the trainees from the junior sector, stood by the doorway. Her expression was blank, which was even more unsettling. I wiped my forehead with the back of my hand. “Is there a problem?” “Not that I know of,” she replied with a tiny shrug. I frowned. “Alright. Let me freshen up first—” “There’s no need for that. He said immediately.” The way she said it made my stomach twist. I raised a brow at her. “And you’re saying there’s no problem?” She only shrugged again and walked off, leaving me standing there—sweaty, irritated, and suddenly five times more awake than before. Great. I hated being summoned unexpectedly, especially when I wasn’t given time to look human. But refusing the commander’s request was the fastest route to discipline drills, and I had no intention of spending my day crawling under barbwire. I let out a frustrated sigh and headed out of the training center, speed-walking toward the main building. The agency compound was wide, gray, and endlessly intimidating—tall walls, mirrored windows, and guards stationed like statues everywhere you turned. A place built for discipline, not comfort. A cage disguised as a career. By the time I reached the commander’s office door, my heart was pounding—not from the jog, but from the possibilities swirling in my skull. There were only ever two reasons he called me this urgently: Either he had a high-risk operation he wanted to dump on me because others had failed… Or he wanted to remind me—again—how much of a disappointment he believed I was. Both were excellent ways to ruin a morning. I inhaled deeply, knocked twice, and waited. “Come in.” His husky voice carried authority, impatience, and an irritation that always seemed reserved just for me. I pushed the door open. “Good morning, sir. You sent for me?” He didn’t look up at first. “Yes, Gina. Sit.” Only when he placed down the document in his hand did his eyes meet mine. I obeyed, though my posture stayed stiff. His office always felt colder than the rest of the building. “Gina,” he began, folding his hands on the desk, “you’ve been with this agency for twelve years now. Am I correct?” “Yes, sir. Absolutely correct.” “Twelve years,” he repeated, leaning back slightly. “And in all this time, you have accomplished… nothing. Every operation assigned to you has ended in failure.” His tone wasn’t disappointed—it was mocking. Sharp enough to cut through steel. I lowered my eyes, jaw clenched. Let him think whatever he wanted. He continued, “Despite your… track record, I’m willing to give you one more chance.” My eyes snapped up. “You’ve only been assigned to low-risk operations—protecting children, supervising harmless tasks. But this time, you’ll be protecting someone your own age. This is a major operation, Gina. If you manage to pull it off, I might finally let you go—to live that ‘normal life’ you claim to want.” My heart jumped. This is it. The opportunity I’d been waiting for. The one way out. “Yes, sir,” I said with a small smile. “I can do this. I’ve been waiting for this for a long time.” His expression hardened. “If you mess this up, you’ll spend the rest of your life training. No more missions. Ever.” My smile faded instantly. “With all due respect, sir, this is unfair.” The words slipped out faster than I could stop them. “You’re only giving me this operation because so many others failed it. You expect me to fail too so you can keep me trapped here.” His eyes narrowed. “You are a failure, Gina. Every operation you touched—” “I failed because I wanted to,” I shot back, anger bubbling. “Not because I couldn’t do it.” He paused, eyebrows drawn in confusion. “What are you talking about?” “You’ve never seen me as part of this agency,” I said, voice shaking but not from fear. “Not once. From day one, you treated me like an outsider—a mistake. You trained me for ten years, and after everything, my first assignment was to protect a three-year-old from eating more than two chocolates a day.” “It was part of the training. A test—” “A test?” I scoffed. “I had to follow around a toddler whose biggest threat was a candy bar. She already knew the chocolate rule, but you still assigned me to watch her. You don’t even want to know what I told her before she agreed to eat an entire packet.” He shot up from his chair. “You made her do that? Do you have any idea what you’ve done? That child hasn’t touched candy since that day!” I rolled my eyes. “That’s not even the worst thing I’ve done. Stop making it dramatic.” “Gina!” He slammed his hand on the desk. “You were supposed to protect them, not put them in danger. It was part of the training!” “Save the lecture, sir.” I folded my arms. “I came into this agency the same day as Miranda. We trained side by side. Graduated together. And she was immediately assigned to protect the president’s daughter. Meanwhile, I was told to ‘protect’ a professional swimmer from drowning. Sir, how does someone who has been swimming competitively for ten years need me to stop them from drowning?” “You have no right to question our decisions,” he snapped. “Everything was for your improvement.” He shoved a stack of files toward me. “These are details about the girl you’ll be protecting.” I grabbed them. “When do I leave?” “First go through the files and report to me. And don’t get too excited—she’s stubborn. Very stubborn.” I allowed a small grin. “My favorite type of people.” “Report back in two days,” he dismissed me. I stood, bowed slightly, and left the room with the files clutched to my chest like a lifeline. --- The moment I reached my room, I collapsed onto my bed. Then I sat up quickly, excitement buzzing under my skin, and opened the folder. With each page I flipped, my smile grew wider. This girl wasn’t just stubborn. She was arrogant. Reckless. A literal menace. From a prestigious family. The youngest daughter. About to enter college. And she had managed to chase away over twenty bodyguards. “Impressive,” I muttered, genuinely entertained. “What’s impressive?” The voice I hated most slithered into the room like poison. I froze. My smile died instantly. I turned slowly. “Miranda Charles,” I said through gritted teeth. She leaned against my doorway, her perfect blond braid draped over her shoulder and her annoying confidence filling the room like a bad smell. Of course. Just when my day was starting to get better.