Lucian guided Ethan through the streets as if he knew exactly what path to take. They both read through their briefing, which included a map of the headquarters' surroundings. What intrigued Ethan was the way Lucian made himself look – a perfect mask of tiredness and routine.

Ethan experimented with his expression, molding it with each reflective surface they passed. He found it difficult to erase the predatory gaze he gave off. His eyes were betraying the thrill lurking inside, waiting for the next fight.

They arrived at a large, roadside bar made of three merged buildings. Walls of planks and sheet metal enclosed what once were alleys separating them. Trucks and motorbikes were parked around the entrance; some patrons were drinking while sitting on them.

"From the left," Ethan whispered, spotting three approaching men. They were thin and weak, but two of them had handguns in their belts.

"Get them to leave peacefully," Lucian ordered. He continued inside the bar, leaving Ethan alone at the door.

Ethan rolled up his left sleeve, revealing a temporary tattoo. It painted him as a ranking member of the Los Cuervos, high enough to outrank any goon, low enough to not be expected to be widely known. According to the reports he read, the cartel had a surprising number of foreigners in their ranks.

The three men stopped. They looked at the tattoo for a long second before looking up to Ethan's face. Then, they returned to their spot.

The bar's main building hosted a large, two-level room with a counter, an open kitchen, tables, and gambling spots. Cartel members were playing at a roulette table, and others were in a game of poker. Many were enjoying the company of hookers, ignoring everything else around them.

As Ethan joined him, Lucian glanced at the tattoo. "Pretending to be their boss?"

Ethan rolled down his sleeve. "Three's advice. It won't be long enough for them to realize anything."

"I wasn't criticizing," Lucian said, taking a sip of his liquor.

Ethan motioned for the bartender and ordered in Spanish, "The same thing he's having."

"Aren't you too young to drink?" Lucian asked mockingly.

"Twenty is old enough here," Ethan retorted in the same tone.

"They grow up so fast," Lucian mocked.

Ethan took his glass, letting the burn settle before saying anything else. The bar around them was a symphony of noise – chatter, clacking chips, frying oil, and drunken arguments. Each of them drew Ethan's attention just long enough for him to register the event.

Lucian looked unbothered by the many cartel members in the room. But Ethan knew that of the both of them, Lucian was the one who was the most attentive. How could he make it look so effortless?

Ethan worked his expression into something duller, less alert. He caught his reflection in a beer fridge's door, using it to work on his face. He relaxed his shoulders further and lowered his eyelids by a sliver.

"You're trying too hard." Lucian smirked without looking. He lowered his glass and took on a sterner expression. "Technically, you are one test away from qualifying as a Specter."

'I knew you were planning something,' Ethan felicitated himself. He turned on his stool to look upon the rest of the building. There were a few women in the room who weren't working here. But all of them seemed to be here with someone. "Your choice; any woman in this room."

As he finished his sentence, a majestic woman with wavy chestnut hair walked through the door and past them. She looked like someone who belonged to a warm coastline and a life far too elegant for this place. Pushing a lock of hair behind her ear, she revealed a carefully crafted smile and a disarming gaze. She walked up to the roulette table, where she placed herself at a man's side, grabbing his opposite shoulder. He barely paid attention to her, too focused on his imminent loss, but the rest of the table was stunned as she entered their field of view.

"Her," Lucian chose.

"The man she's with is cartel," Ethan said, noticing the tattoos. "That could endanger the mission."

"My choice, any woman in this room," Lucian echoed. "Seduce her without alerting the cartel of our presence, and you pass."

'The next time I dream, I want to remember that I am dreaming.' Ethan appears behind the bar and grabs a bottle of tequila, invisible to the bartender. He pours himself a glass and sits in front of Lucian. "It isn't usual for our organization to test its recruits in the middle of an operation. This could have gone far worse than it actually did."

"You needed it," Lucian retorts. He tilts his glass into his mouth before tapping it on the counter for Ethan to refill. "You were too unstable, always thirsting for the next fight that would satisfy your demons. Every time you went through something, it got a little worse."

"I don't see how it's relevant," Ethan says. He drinks his glass; the tequila burns his throat like he remembers it from that day. He never liked this liquor; he tries to change it for whiskey, but the dream doesn't obey him. "Isn't it why you took me in?"

"Anger is a useful tool," Lucian began.

"But it must be controlled," Ethan finishes; he heard it too many times. "I know."

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

"But at the time you didn't. You were a ticking bomb, and I wanted you to unwind before bringing you into a warzone." Lucian pours himself another glass. "I needed you to get over Olivia before it damaged you a little more. She had her own problems to deal with. To be honest, I still don't know which of you was the most broken."

"It sounds more like my own thoughts than what Lucian would say," Ethan comments.

"It would be weird if it was; after all, you are talking to yourself," Lucian says. He morphs into Ethan. "You aren't awake quite yet. Let's get back to it."

She walked ahead of Ethan through a narrow alley, swaying deliberately. She wasn't drunk; she was leading him, testing his willingness to follow.

A pulse of satisfaction spread through Ethan. He had lucked out and passed this umpteenth test quite easily. He had put to use his practice of introductions, smiles, looks, and how to feign interest. He did discredit his competitors with slight picks that exposed their childish behaviors. And he was right that she would react positively to seeing his pretend status. But he couldn't quite believe how instant the connection with her had been.

She guided him across a gravel parking lot and along a row of concrete buildings dotted with flickering light. He let her pull him closer whenever she glanced back with a smile. Her perfume invaded his senses. Her hair brushed his shoulder every time she leaned into him. It was disarming.

She unlocked the fence locking the building's stairs and tugged him into the narrow stairwell.

Ethan followed without question, adjusting his expression. It was easier than before, as he realized he was already looking like he should pretend to.

She opened the door to an apartment on the second floor, dragging him in with a kiss.

Single room, lights off, clean, sparse, sparingly decorated. Ethan's mind registered the details of the place, mechanically memorizing the exits in case of an emergency.

"I got lucky," she said, walking backward as she pulled him by his shirt.

He let her guide him as they moved against the walls. Heat rushed through him, and the thrill left, replaced by the fluster he felt as she looked at him. He removed his shirt, throwing it on the chair she placed her purse on.

Then she pushed him onto the bed. He let himself fall backward onto the mattress, pulling her with him before turning to place himself on top. For a moment, he let himself forget everything else; he let himself be his age.

Her hair spilled over the pillows, and she exhaled as his hand found her hips.

Ethan realized that she was moving her legs to immobilize his lower half if she were to roll on top of him. He shifted his gaze from her eyes and saw her hand prying a thin blade from her hair.

She brought the blade to Ethan's back only for him to catch her forearm. Before she could react, he held his handgun at her throat, finger on the trigger.

Her breath hitched. Her pulse was thudding against the barrel.

'I was the one who initiated; there is no way this is a cartel's hit. And if it was, she wouldn't be alone, but I didn't spot anyone. Am I just unlucky enough to choose a psycho?' Ethan forced her right hand open and flicked the blade onto the ground. "Talk."

A door shattered in the distance. It came from the same building as they were in, five or six apartments away. Then another door, one apartment closer, shattered. Screams of terror followed until the next door broke; they were replaced by closer screams.

Her pulse got even quicker as she stared at the door.

Ethan let go of her left hand and checked under the pillows for another weapon; he found nothing. He could kill her, but the possibility that N.E.S.T.'s operation might have been discovered demanded that he interrogate and capture her. Keeping his gun leveled at the woman, Ethan got off her and moved back to place himself behind the door when it would open.

The door flew open, its lock pulverized by a kick from outside. A man entered, glaring daggers at the woman. He was the one she stood beside at the bar.

"You bitch," the man barked. He grabbed a lamp lying close to the door and threw it above her. It exploded against the wall. "Where is it?! Give it back!"

She kept her eyes on the man who barged in, not giving up Ethan's position.

Ethan looked through the gap at the hinges. There were two members of Los Cuervos holding people at gunpoint through the door of an apartment and three more around a car in the parking lot.

The man threw himself on her purse to rummage through it but stopped as he saw Ethan's shirt lying beside it.

Ethan pushed the door closed and plunged the knife he kept in his boot into the man's spine. He went limp, unable to move or talk. Ethan dropped him to the side.

"You are not one of them," the woman stuttered. She said it in Spanish but let slip an American accent. It puzzled him, as she looked very much local.

Ethan looked down at the tattoo on his forearm and smudged off a tiny part of it. Still keeping his gun on her, he looked into her bag with his knife. It held nothing he didn't expect. "You might want to scream, or they'll think it's too quiet."

She did, making it sound like the man was abusing her.

Ethan checked the man; he found keys, a phone, a wallet, and a gun in his belt. He took everything but the phone, in case it was tracked. He moved through the apartment, retracing each of the woman's movements, searching for anything she would have hidden.

The two cartel members that were on the same floor came towards the door. They were laughing.

Ethan placed himself next to the door, opposite to where it would open. One of them pushed the door, and Ethan stabbed him through the throat. Using the flat of the blade, Ethan dragged the man into the apartment, clearing the way to the second cartel member, who was holding a phone.

The second man blinked, confusion in his gaze as he dropped his phone to reach for his rifle.

Ethan stepped out of the doorframe before the man could shout. He thrust his blade into the man's heart and slammed his handgun's magazine into the man's vocal cords. Dragging the corpse inside and closing the door, he leveled his gun back at the woman. "What was he looking for?"

She pried a golden cross from in-between her chest and tossed it at Ethan. "This is a misunderstanding."

"Keep your explanations for later," Ethan said. He glanced at the religious pendant and noticed it was a disguised USB thumb drive. Keeping his gun leveled, he put back on his shirt and looked through the door. The men waiting in the parking lot were still there. "Stay close. If you try anything, I won't hesitate to kill you. You understand?"

She nodded and followed him outside, lowering herself as he did to hide behind the barrier. They moved along it until they reached the staircase and descended to the first level.

As Ethan began to move away from the building, he heard a silenced gunshot coming from the parking lot. It was followed by another, and the gurgling final breaths of someone being strangled. Ethan's pulse spiked in a way it hadn't in months. That was a professional, someone like him, a challenge. His blood surged with rage so clean it felt like a storm thundered in his mind. His vision sharpened. All of his muscles vibrated with the anticipation he had to bury for so long.

For an instant, he forgot the woman behind him as his vision and mind tunneled. He rounded the corner and peeked into the parking lot.

The three cartel bodies were slumped around the car. One half inside the front seat, one flat on the ground, the third draped over the hood, his neck at a broken angle.

A shadow moved into the light of a lamppost for Ethan to see. It was Lucian.

The disappointment hit Ethan like a punch of cold emptiness to the chest.

"I heard them going after your date," Lucian said. He got closer as he placed his gun back into his vest. "Apparently she stole something from the man you took her from."

Ethan realized Lucian was talking about her as if she wasn't there and looked back. She was gone.

Next chapter will be updated first on this website. Come back and continue reading tomorrow, everyone!

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.