Selina clutched the tablet containing her presentation as she walked across the warehouse floor toward where 47 sat at his control console. The soft hum of construction drones working below filled the air, their cutting sers carving through bedrock in precise patterns. He was studying the holographic dispys showing the progress of his underground base, his posture perfectly still in that way that always made her think of a statue.

  She'd rehearsed this conversation a dozen times, anticipated every possible objection he might raise. The PowerPoint was thorough—statistics on missing girls, maps of the hunting ground, timeline analysis of Tammy's disappearance. She had logical arguments for why this was their best option, contingency pns for different scenarios, even backup strategies if something went wrong.

  "47," she said, stopping a few feet behind his chair. "I want to talk to you about what I found."

  He turned in his chair to face her, his expression neutral. "Yes?"

  Selina took a breath and unched into her expnation. She told him about the facial recognition hit, about finding Tammy in those horrible videos, about Hatter's Productions and their systematic targeting of vulnerable girls from the East End. She described the pattern she'd discovered—dozens of missing teenagers, all from the same general area, all dismissed as runaways by police who didn't look hard enough.

  "The way I see it," she continued, pulling up the first slide of her presentation, "someone needs to get inside their operation. And I'm the only one who can realistically pass for a desperate street kid. If I position myself in the right area, dress down and look vulnerable, there's a good chance whoever's hunting for girls will approach me. Then I let them take me, find out where they bring their victims, and you can—"

  "Sounds like a pn," 47 interrupted, turning back to his console. "Let's do it."

  Selina blinked, the words she'd been about to say dying in her throat. "That's... that's it?"

  "Yes." He gnced back at her with what might have been mild confusion. "You gave a logical assessment of the situation. You know the city better than me, and you're a teenage girl. I'm definitely not going to be able to pose as either of those things." He gestured vaguely at himself—six feet of adult male in tactical gear. "It's the most efficient approach to gathering intelligence on their operation."

  "But..." Selina stared at the unused presentation still on her tablet screen. "I thought this was going to be more difficult than that. I have charts and everything."

  "Selina," 47 said, and there was something almost gentle in his tone, "like I told you when we started training—bit by bit, I'm going to help you get more out into the field. Yes, I'm worried. But I have faith in you. And with my backup systems monitoring the situation, this should go fine."

  The simple trust in his words hit her harder than any of the arguments she'd prepared for. He wasn't treating her like a child who needed to be protected from the world's dangers. He was treating her like a partner whose assessment he respected.

  "Thanks, 47," she said quietly.

  Before she could second-guess herself, Selina stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug. She felt him stiffen slightly—47 wasn't much for physical dispys of emotion—but after a moment, his hand came up to pat her back in an awkward but genuine gesture.

  The hug sted only a few seconds before she stepped back, suddenly self-conscious. But the warmth of that brief contact lingered, along with something she'd almost forgotten how to feel: the security of knowing someone had her back, no matter what dangers y ahead.

  "So," she said, clearing her throat and trying to regain her professional composure, "when do we start?"

  47 was already turning back to his console, but she caught the slight upturn at the corner of his mouth that might have been a smile. "Tomorrow night. I'll need today to set up surveilnce protocols and position backup assets in the area."

  Selina nodded, tucking the tablet under her arm. As she walked back across the warehouse, she could feel the drones below continuing their methodical work, carving out the foundation of what would become their new base. The sound was oddly comforting.

  ---

  Alice stepped out of the elevator onto the fourth floor, her heels clicking softly against the carpeted hallway. The faint strains of the *Ghostbusters* theme music drifted through the apartment door, mingling with a girl's soft ughter. She paused, steadying herself, then fixed a casual smile on her face before entering the living room.

  Jarvis lounged on the burgundy leather sofa, Tammy curled up beside him, her body pressed close like a contented cat. The girl wore a short dress that rode up slightly, her bare feet tucked beneath her as she leaned into his side. His fingers wove through her reddish-blonde hair in slow, possessive strokes, occasionally trailing down to caress her shoulder or linger along her arm. A rge bowl of popcorn sat untouched on the coffee table. Tammy's eyes flicked to the television, but her body seemed attuned to Jarvis's touch, her breath catching slightly with each deliberate graze of his fingers.

  "Hey, Alice," Jarvis said, gncing up with a zy smile, his hand never pausing its slow exploration of Tammy's arm.

  Alice's smile tightened, but she kept her tone light. "Just checking on you two. How's it going?" She nodded toward the screen, where Bill Murray was expining the containment unit to the EPA agent. "Good choice. I love this movie."

  "Tammy's never seen it before," Jarvis said, his fingers threading through her hair with a lingering tenderness. "Can you believe that? I had to fix this tragedy immediately."

  Tammy gazed up at him, her eyes wide with adoration, as if he'd granted her something precious. "It's really funny," she said softly, her voice tinged with a nervous excitement. "I like the marshmallow man."

  "Best part," Jarvis agreed, his lips brushing the top of her head. His hand slid lower, resting on her bare thigh where her dress had shifted higher. Tammy shifted subtly, her legs parting just enough to invite his touch, her body leaning closer into his. The air between them crackled with unspoken tension, her flushed cheeks betraying her arousal.

  "Alice, grab some popcorn if you want. There's plenty," Jarvis added, his voice casual, but his fingers traced slow, deliberate circles on Tammy's thigh, each movement drawing his hand deeper under her skirt.

  Alice perched on the edge of an armchair, her chest tightening as she tried to pull Jarvis's attention away. She mentioned business—distribution schedules, server arrangements—anything to break the spell. But his responses were curt, distracted, his focus locked on Tammy, whose soft sighs and subtle shifts made it clear she was savoring every second of his attention.

  "You know," Alice said during a lull in the movie, "I was thinking we should discuss the new server arrangements—"

  "Mmm," Jarvis murmured, his hand now resting higher on Tammy's thigh, his fingers brushing the edge of her panties. Tammy's breath hitched, her body tilting toward him, her eyes half-lidded as she melted into his touch. The intimacy of the moment was undeniable, a silent cim that excluded Alice entirely.

  The jealousy burned hotter in Alice's chest, sharp and suffocating. She couldn't watch this—not the way Tammy's body responded, not the way Jarvis's hands cimed her with such ease.

  "I'll let you two get back to your movie," Alice said, standing with forced ease, her voice betraying none of the storm inside her. "I just remembered something I need to check downstairs."

  She leaned down to give Jarvis a quick peck on the cheek—a desperate reminder of their partnership that he barely acknowledged—then headed for the door. Behind her, Tammy's soft exhale followed, a sound ced with pleasure as Jarvis's hand grew bolder.

  In the elevator, descending to the basement, Alice's hands clenched into fists. This was how it always started: Jarvis fixated on a new girl, showering her with attention, while Alice was pushed aside like she didn't matter.

  The basement housed Waylon Jones's private apartment and gym, a space tailored to his need for privacy and heavy-duty equipment. Alice found him at the bench press, his massive frame dwarfing the reinforced bar loaded with ptes. His rough, scarred skin and imposing size gave him an intimidating presence. Sweat glistened on his muscur arms as he pushed the weight up with mechanical precision.

  "Waylon," Alice called softly, stepping closer.

  He completed his rep, racked the weight, and sat up, his dark eyes meeting hers. "Alice."

  She rested a hand on his broad shoulder, her voice warm with admiration. "Look at you. So strong. I don't know what I'd do without you."

  With her free hand, she pulled out her phone and showed him a photo of Tammy. "This one's becoming a problem. Getting too comfortable upstairs. Starting to think she's special."

  Waylon studied the image as Alice's fingers traced the defined muscles of his arm. "She getting too close to Jarvis?"

  "You know how he is," Alice said with a sigh, as if they shared a weary understanding. "He gets attached, and things get complicated. We need to handle this before it becomes an issue."

  "When?" Waylon asked, his voice low and direct.

  "Soon. Make it look like she tried to run. Got lost in the wrong part of the city." Alice's touch grew more deliberate, her fingers kneading the tension in his shoulders. "You're the only one I can trust with something this delicate."

  Waylon turned to face her, his expression unreadable. "Anything for you Alice."

  Alice smiled, reaching for a towel. "I'll let you know when the time's right," she said, her voice dropping to a whisper as she moved behind him. "But I needed to know you're still comfortable with our arrangement."

  Her hands worked along his shoulders and neck, a practiced bance of praise and physical reward that had kept him loyal for years.

  "You're so dependable," she murmured, pressing closer. "The only one who really understands what needs to be done."

  This would be just like all the others. Jarvis would be disappointed for a week or two, but there would always be new girls. And Alice would still be here, managing the details, keeping everything running smoothly.