A month earlier
Rhea Valtieri
The moment my back hit the concrete floor, a loud groan tore from my throat. I clenched my teeth, refusing to let even a single tear fall, though they burned beneath my eyelids with anger.
“Another one with a big mouth.” The mocking tone reached my ears like a loud bell. “You could at least send a sexy brunette here, not some carrot-headed redhead.”
I wiped the corner of my mouth from blood as the image before my eyes stopped blurring. Though I felt a cramp in my left calf, my right leg remained ready.
“Valtieri, Calloway, that’s enough. End for today.” The command echoed from the speakers mounted in the corners of the training room.
Every time I was here, I felt like a fish trapped in an aquarium. The walls were made of armored glass with high ballistic and mechanical resistance.
From the outside, others watched us, assessing our physical endurance, our ability to handle stressful situations, and our hand-to-hand combat skills. Inside, it was just us: me and the asshole who had been brought here for additional training from the Counterterrorism Department.
In moments like this, we acted like wild animals whose only goal was survival.
“What will you do after losing, little carrot?” A tall brunet appeared above me, his arms confidently crossed over his chest. “Call your mommy or post on Instagram with the hashtag me too?”
“I’ll call my mommy,” I panted, bracing myself on my elbows.
Sawyer threw his head back with a loud laugh. The man, thrown off rhythm, became an easy target for me. I performed a quick backward roll and, before he could react, struck him in the nose with an iron kick, sending his strong body crashing to the floor. His cry of pain was my triumphant anthem of swift revenge. I got up and brushed off my hands.
“And I’ll tell her I kicked the ass of an insecure asshole,” I hummed to the agent kneeling before me.
Right after the armored door lock was released, my father’s stern gaze almost pinned me to the wall. I looked at his face and clenched my teeth in anger. I knew he had gone back to drinking. I rolled my eyes, fully aware of what he was about to say.
“You can’t—”
“—let yourself be thrown off balance, blah, blah,” I mocked, mimicking the movement of his lips with my hand. “If he hadn’t called me a carrot, I would’ve kicked him in the balls. Now the sexy brunette won’t even talk to him.”
I wasn’t her. I had inherited my looks mostly from my mother. Maybe I wasn’t a walking Aphrodite—my hourglass figure often resembled spilled ink on an alabaster page, the freckles on my face looked like a canvas splattered with chocolate pudding, and my fox-like curls were undoubtedly my trademark. The only thing I liked about myself were my eyes. They didn’t belong to my mother. Dad had identical ones—emerald and shining.
“You have five years of experience; it’s high time you thought about a promotion.” He ignored my jab. “You can’t spend your whole life chasing backyard junkies. You’re made for bigger things.”
“Like chasing hairy bomb guys?” I grimaced. “I’d rather stick with junkies.”
“Murphy wants you to take my place in the Counterterrorism Department.”
I looked at my father angrily, clenching my fists at my sides. I forced myself to calm down as we entered the locker room.
“I said I don’t want to clean up after you,” I replied calmly. “Your stupid colleagues will make things harder for me, and I’ve already submitted my application.”
“It’s a desk job, Rhea,” he said, then slammed his fist into a metal locker. “I don’t want to stare at the clock every time you’re not home and wonder if you’re still alive.”
I stripped off my sweaty clothes and stepped into the shower.
“I went through this with you,” I replied firmly, turning on the streams of hot water.
“Then you know what I’m talking about,” I heard from behind the wall.
“You’ll get used to it, daddy.”
“Kid…” He took a deep breath. “I agreed to your application here believing I’d have you under constant supervision. I can’t afford to lose you.”
I soaped my body, massaging my sore muscles.
“If you think emotional tricks will convince me, you’re wrong.”
“Fine, I’ll agree to Counterintelligence, but for God’s sake, Rhea, not criminal investigations!”
In my mind, I saw him pacing from wall to wall in frustration.
“Do you know what that involves? The most wanted fugitives, terrorists, God knows what kind of gangsters—who knows what’s in their heads!”
I rinsed off the foam, turned off the water, and wrapped a towel around my body. Returning to the locker room, I saw my father with a grim expression. His gaze hardened instantly.
“I’ve already made my decision, daddy,” I whispered, then touched his arm and brushed his cheek. “In half an hour I have a meeting with Pearse. He’ll assign me a department and send me to my workplace.”
“You did this behind my back?” In the old man’s green eyes, I found fading hope.
“I had to. Otherwise, you’d do everything to stop me.”
“For God’s sake, how can you be so… so disobedient!”
“I’m twenty-eight,” I reminded him sharply, reaching into the locker for my clothes. “You can’t keep limiting me forever. I want to fly out of this nest, don’t you understand?”
“I’ve spent my whole life keeping you safe, kid.”
The tone of his voice burned my skin, but I ignored it and pulled my shirt over my head.
“I’ll go crazy if I suddenly lose sight of you.”
I pulled on my worn jeans and threaded a frayed belt through the loops. I tried to bite my tongue, but I knew backing down wasn’t an option. Not this time.
“Don’t you see that I feel suffocated?” I groaned. “This doesn’t give me wings—quite the opposite. I feel like a hamster that gets to run occasionally on a wheel in a cage the size of a shoebox!” I crossed my arms. “I want something more. I want out of this trap. I want to finally do what I want, not what you think I should!”
The weight of my father’s disappointed gaze fell on my shoulders, but I didn’t bend. I knew if I did, everything would fall apart. I grabbed my bag and slung it over my shoulder.
“I really have to go,” I said with a sad smile, caressing his strong arm. “I love you, remember that.”
“Wait.” He grabbed my wrist and pulled me closer. “Be careful, my brave little fox.”
I smiled sweetly at the nickname, hugging him tighter, ignoring the tension in my muscles.
“I’ll make you proud,” I whispered in his ear.
“I am. I always have been.” He paused before kissing my forehead. “Now go and show them what the name Valtieri means.”
“That’s exactly what I’m going to do.” I winked and saluted.
