The Target
763 Words
Nyra’s POV
Morning crashed in too soon. Head pounding, I opened my eyes to an unfamiliar ceiling.
For seconds, I didn’t move. Then it flooded back. Club. Shots. Stranger. Private room. I shifted. Bed empty beside me. Faint water ran from the bathroom. He was still here. Panic stabbed sharp.
*What the hell was I thinking?*
Body ached as I lurched up, clothes scattered like evidence. Fingers clumsy, I yanked them on—fast, silent.
Heart hammered in my chest.
*Stupid. Reckless mistake.*
Phone on the table. Screen blazed one more time.
My breath snagged.
10 missed calls. 3 texts.
All from *Hale*.
Hale didn’t spam calls. Not unless things were Cee serious.
Fingers shook as I opened them.
*Where are you?*
*Answer NOW.*
*text me.*
Of course.
I’d ghosted. Defied orders. Gone dark without clearance.
Bathroom water still ran. No time. I had to leave before he caught me here.
I slipped out—down the hall, past the morning shift staff and the dead club entrance. Legs burned, but I bolted.
Morning air slapped cold. Hand shot up as I flagged down a cav.
Cab braked. “Where to?”
“Academy,” I rasped, throat raw.
Ride dragged eternal. Last night looped: choices, heat, regret.
*Can’t afford this. Not now. Not ever.* I mumbled to myself
Gates loomed. “Stop here.”
Paid quick, walked for the rest of the journey—head low.
Guards spotted me instant.
“Kane.”
Froze.
“You’re wanted in Director Hayes’ office. Now.”
My stomach knotted. “Copy.”
Barely moved when another appeared—senior disciplinary officer, built like a tank, face granite.
“Nyra Kane. Come with me.”
No room for no. I trailed, pulse roaring in my ears.
Morning Vanguard felt alien. Sterile halls too bright, too hushed—like the building held its breath.
He marched me through security doors, command corridors.
Paused. Eyes narrowed. “Ordered to dorms.” He started.
“I know.”
“Weren’t there.” He asked. “Where, did you go to?” He asked
Silence.
“Where?” He repeated with annoyance in his voice.
Brain scrambled as I tried to think of a lie. “Took a walk. Got turned around. Exhausted… didn’t make it back till dawn.”
First he stopped walking. Stared. Snorted—humorless. “That your story?” He mocked.
I froze . “Truth.”
“Bullshit. Not even good bullshit. Committee won’t buy ‘lost puppy.’ Don’t waste our time.” He advised.
Jaw locked.
“Move. Hayes’ll handle you.” He said at last.
No fight left in me.
We stopped in front of Hayes’ office door. Knock. “Kane.”
“Come in.” The voice said from inside and we walked in.
The office was packed. Long table center. Projectors. Screens. Maps.
Spy division brass in a semicircle, Hayes mid-brief. ““Intel’s verified. It’s legit.”
Room hummed tension. I hovered by the door.
Hayes flicked eyes my way. With the movement of his fingers I understood he wanted me to sit.
I dropped into a side chair and remained quiet.
Briefing rolled.
“Confirmation solid,” Hayes said. “Info’s gold.”
Senior analyst nodded. “Silas Draeven’s been a ghost. No contacts, no moves. Zero digital trace.”
Hayes’ tone edged lethal. “But he’s got a weakness.”
Silence thickened.
“A son.”
My gut fisted.
Projector flared: *CASSIAN DRAEVEN*.
Hayes pressed. “Landing stateside in 48 hours. Plan’s straightforward. High-risk.”
Screen shifted—encrypted web diagram.
“Insert an agent. Make contact with the son. He’s our door to Silas.”
Voice cut in. “Direct infil?”
“Affirmative. Long haul. No timeline. Gain access. Earn trust. Get close. We all need to put our hands on deck if we wanna make good use of Cassian.”
Words blurred through my skull’s throb.
*Cassian.*
Name pinged something.
Hayes turned to the analyst. “Show what we’ve got.”
“Single confirmed image, sir.”
“Up.” Hayes ordered
Photo bloomed.
But the second my eyes fell on the screen, my breath seized. Room spun.
Tall frame. Dark hair. Piercing, unreadable eyes.
The face I’d fled all morning.
The stranger.
The man I’d—
*No. No no no.*
Hayes carried on, oblivious. “Cassian Draeven. Our sole path to the father.”
Fists balled under the table. Mind reeled.
My one-night mistake…
Was the *target*.
“What a small world!” The words came out of me before I could stop them
- Writer
