Amber Knight An aggravated sigh rumbled in my dry mouth as a blinding white light lit up the room.

I rubbed my sore, tired eyes and reached for the coffee table, groaning as my fingers touched the edge of the wood, unable to even touch my phone.

Most individuals would have done the logical thing and sat up to grab it, but somehow my fatigued mind decided it would be too easy to be logical. I stretched out my arm further from the warmth of the blanket, leaning over the edge of the sofa.

My fingers brushed the edge of the rose-gold case, pride filling me up before I slipped and landed on the floor.

I sighed at my own idiocy – Barnes had influenced me more than I realised. I pushed onto my knees and grabbed my phone off the oak coffee table to read the text while sitting on the woven cotton rug.

Mika's coming for you. Get out of your flat and find us at the agency. You need to leave the city.

—Collins

Alistair's doubt had been fed since I left headquarters. He'd never kill me – I had to believe that – but he would never let me get in the way of his plans, either. Perhaps I was to be apprehended, questioned, then locked up if I still did not change my mind.

I locked my phone. "Not that easy," I muttered.

Jumping to my feet, I made an internal plan. I sent a short message on my phone before grabbing my boots off the floor, pulling them on and swiftly tying the laces. I should have expected this. It was not as if I was allowed even a moment of peace anymore. I was standing again the moment the final knot was tied, and headed to the kitchen, grabbing my jacket from the floor on my way there.

A fist banged against the door. "Agent Knight! Open up!" roared Mika.

I cursed inwardly, scanning the room as I opened up one of the kitchen drawers. "Agent Knight!" "I'm looking for my keys," I replied calmly, feeling the weight of them in my pocket. "Just a moment."

For my own protection, I always kept two handguns in the flat: one in the kitchen, with the other in the bedroom. There had been a few instances in which enemies of the agency had appeared in my home, and the firearms had saved my life more than once.

I took the gun from the drawer and checked its contents while approaching the window to open it wide, smiling as a familiar silver car pulled up alongside the pavement.

"Knight!"

I slipped the gun into my back pocket and rushed for the door to unlock it. Once open, Mika and four other followers stormed inside. I shut the door behind them and strolled casually to position myself in front of the window.

Mika frowned, curiosity having him glance over the open-plan room to take in my lack of belongings. "You're letting us in? Just like that?" I shrugged. "My landlord said he can't keep replacing the doors." Sixty-something-year-old Samson despised Scotty and I and had threatened to kick us both out if our flats kept suffering damage. We frequently insisted the issues were of no fault of our own, claiming to have had constant break-ins, but the excuses only made Samson grow more ballistic. Eventually we grew to fix our own flats, keeping any property damage hidden. "Fair enough," Mika replied. He strutted around the room, prowling with keen eyes.

"It's... so empty in here," he eventually said. "I'm not here a lot," I said, pulling on my jacket. "And I'm not particularly bothered about how my flat looks when people like you come and destroy it anyway." "Are you being passive-aggressive with me?" "Work it out," I replied. "You'll get there eventually."

He scoffed, watching as I checked the time on my phone and quickly shoved the device back into my pocket.

"Going somewhere?" he quipped, tilting his head. "Yeah, actually," I replied. I looked over my shoulder out the window, eyes drifting downwards – I could make the jump. "Sorry to inconvenience you, Knight, but you're coming with us."

His tone was laced with so much false confidence that I smiled. What a fool he was to believe I would make it easy for him.

I bit the inside of my cheek, looking to each of the minions individually. Their intended line of fire was surely me, but three – yes, three – of the four had their guns pointed at the wall to my right. It took an insufferable volume of resilience to refrain from shaking my head at how inept each of them was; one of them had his shoelaces tied so loosely he was one wrong step away from stumbling.

"I'm not going anywhere with you," I retorted. Mika scrunched up his nose. "Alistair's orders. Come with us or we shoot." The arrogance of this man... "Alistair would not have ordered you to shoot me." I refused to believe that. He pressed his lips tightly together, clearly amused. "You're right. Shooting you was my own decision." "Be careful, Mika," I warned, "thinking for yourself is a dangerous game. That slap on the wrist earlier looked painful." "And you'd know all about thinking for yourself, dog." I exhaled a long, unbothered sigh. It stung slightly, but I now knew it to be untrue. Besides, Barnes was far superior in garnering a reaction from me. "You're right," I shrugged, stepping back. "I'm just a mindless dog begging to be given orders with no mind of her own." I gripped the window ledge. "What's a dog to do?" He caught on to my anger, the flicker of fire giving everything away. "Enough," he hissed. "Shoot her!"

I darted for the window as the men opened fire, grabbing the other side of the ledge as I swung outside. Predictably, I heard a thud as one hit the floor, bullets piercing the wallpaper as I dropped to the ledge below, hands raw with the cold.

The driver of the silver car thumped his hand against the horn as I dropped to the final ledge, urging me to hurry. I let go of the last, clenching my jaw as I landed in a crouch on the pavement below. Mika poked his head out the window and fired a few shots of fury as I ran to the car. He missed, bullets bouncing off the brick walls of the surrounding flats. I made it to the passenger side unscathed, slamming the door shut behind me.

"Hi Steve," I panted, buckling in. "Hello Amber," he replied, as cheery as ever. He restarted the engine, turning to me aa the radio played a classical jazz piece. "Same place?" I nodded. "Yes please."

He beamed, driving out the street with expert care. I slouched in the leather seat, grateful he had been swift as usual. For almost a year, Steve had been my regular taxi driver after an exposing incident that almost got the agency in a lot of trouble. He was unphased by the incident, and agreed to help out when needed, never once questioning the strange environments he rescued me from. I often wondered whether he kept up the job solely for Alistair's hefty pay, or for the thrill of being the getaway car.

I never dared to ask.

The air behind us thundered. I turned around to check the road, finding Mika standing in an opened-up convertible, fuelled by wrath as he fired bullets our way.

That was a potential problem.

"Is everything okay back there?" Steve asked, absentmindedly focussed on the road ahead. "Yeah." I chewed my lip, debating an answer. "Bit of traffic, though." Steve shrugged. "At least its behind us." "Yeah..." I said. One of Mika's shots pierced the left rear window, shattering the glass. Steve did not flinch. "Just maybe drive a little faster."

Steve's lips stretched into a smile as he slammed his foot down onto the accelerator. He loved this, relishing the adrenaline pumping through his veins as he shifted into fifth gear.

He grinned at me, then fixed his eyes on the road.

I swallowed, subtly wrapping his hands around the edge of the seat. "Just maybe not that fast."

Derek Barnes He had tried everything to get some answers, but every method was fruitless. I could not be annoyed, convinced, threatened, bribed or beaten – I had even laughed in Alistair's face after he bust my lip. It was not a pleasant experience, however, but I told him I was not prepared to open my mouth to honesty before I saw Jade again alive and well.

It was funny, actually. Funny that Alistair thought I really knew something worthwhile. He was so paranoid about his agents betraying him that the fear had consumed him, made his mind an irrational cloud. Our time spent together in the interrogation room was all just one big game I was playing with him. Although brilliant, Alistair was a fool when emotional.

The bones connecting my skull and neck ached as I sat with my head swung over the back of the chair. Boredom settled in quickly once Alistair left me alone, and I wondered whether my neck would have broken if I moved too fast. Those thoughts were soon replaced by that of my sister. Was she crying in a cell? Kicking up a fuss? Most likely, she was sitting with her arms crossed, a smile plastered on her face in stubborn refusal to hold her spirit.

I extended my legs over the table again, forced to hold back a chuckle at how Agent Knight had reacted to that action on the train. She gave the impression that she was an averagely patient person, but I always tread a fine line with her. I didn't mind – her response was entertaining enough to keep taunting her, and I had a feeling she knew that already.

I let the smile linger, no matter how stupid I looked. Compared to Alistair, I missed Agent Knight. She always looked so bored when thinking of nothing in particular, as if the words of others were too mundane for her to care – somehow I found that amusing. But when she found something she liked – the book I found for her – her bright eyes glowed with fluorescent interest, fixing on the printed words as the rest of her features remained frozen. But when she smiled – oh god, her smile – she always tried to hide it behind a sigh, an eye roll, or by turning away. It was a weapon so powerful that no men could face it, and the only one in her arsenal she did not dare to wield.

Or maybe she had. The rooted pessimism in me told me she was playing a game, just as I was with Alistair. I had fallen for it badly. Maybe she—

No. I could spy a fake smile even before I joined the agency. The smiles in the casino were calculated, used as a tool of manipulation, but she did not need to bother in deceiving me after that. Every time she smiled at something I said or did from that moment on was a genuine reaction, turning her cheeks dawn-pink, making her eyes shimmer like the sun striking arctic ice.

It was all so perfect – so damn perfect until I dropped that bomb on her. I was an idiot for letting it out in the way that I did. The call she had with Collins reminded me of how close we were to returning to London, and my alcohol-phased mind turned on me, imagining that any time was the right time in admitting the truth. It wasn't.

We should have just stayed on that boat.

"Barnes!"

I snatched my legs off the table and jumped to attention. It was a young woman's voice I heard, but I cursed myself for believing it to be Amber's. Her tone was far more collected that the girly cry at the door.

She looked much different to Amber. Her hair was thicker and wound by tighter curls, skin mocha, with her slim frame covered by a shell pink blazer. Not a field agent, I figured. The man that towered behind her must have been only a few years older and frowned at me with bold blue eyes. I glared back, noting the tie, blonde mop of hair, and natural tan. I had seen him before. "Are you Collins by any chance?" His frown deepened. "Yes, I am Agent Collins—" "You call Amber a lot, don't you?" I cocked my head. The agent shifted on his feet. "Is this really relevant?" I nodded, not even ashamed at the tug in my chest. "Oh, yes! If I'm going to die in this cell, then—" "You're not going to die in this cell," said the woman. I snorted. In this cell. "Does the agency do public executions now?" "We're getting you out of here," Collins stated. I looked between the two of them and couldn't help but breathe out a laugh. "You're joking, right?" "Alistair's gone too far," the woman said. "And Amber seems to trust you enough so..." My eyes widened. So she did believe me. "Where is she? Is she alright? Is she—?" "She's on her way," said Collins. "But Mika has been sent after her. We need to get the two of you out of London as soon as possible." "I'm not leaving without my sister," I retorted. The girl frowned. "Your sister?" "Alistair took her hostage," I explained. "Where is she?" Collins's throat tensed then relaxed. "I can take you to her." The young woman's jaw dropped, eyes narrowing in apparent disgust. Collins looked at the ground, taking a breath before forcing himself to look at me. "Let's go," he said. "Gabby—" She didn't even look at Collins. "I'll wait outside for Amber to make sure she gets in the building undetected." "Be careful." "Always am." And she stormed down the corridor.

With a signalling nod from Collins, I joined him at the door for him to brandish a key that unlocked my handcuffs. Once freed, he waved a hand and beckoned me to follow him down the corridors, the two of us breaking into a jog. "Where's Alistair?" I asked. "In his office waiting for Agent Knight." I nodded. "Let's hope he stays there." The agent skidded to a stop, telling me to wait. "Just so you know," he warned, "if any of us find out that you have betrayed Amber in any way—" "Let me guess: you'll make me wish Alistair had gotten to me first." "Precisely." He ushered my onwards and I smiled. "I think we're going to get along just fine, Agent Collins."

Amber Knight After a few questionable manoeuvres from Steve, we lost Mika. We parked along the pavement just outside the steps of headquarters and, before the engine even turned off, I had ripped off my seatbelt and climbed out of the car.

"Thank you, Steve. I really appreciate this," I assured. He rolled the window down. "It's an adventure," he said with a smile. "Quite thrilling, actually." I blinked. "Right. Well then, I should—" "There she is!" Steve exclaimed.

I spun around, catching Gabby running down the steps of the building, arms outstretched to balance herself. She ran towards me with impressive speed for the heels she was wearing. "Are you okay?" she fussed, clutching my wrists. "The beauty," Steve gawked.

Gabby dragged me towards her by my wrists, pulling me towards the doors. "Alistair's in his office and Collins is with Barnes going to get— why are you looking at me like that?" Steve had helped me out immensely in getting me away from Mika. The least I could have done was get him a date with the girl he had been crushing on from afar. "Gabby," I started, "how would you feel about going on a date with my lovely friend Steve the taxi driver?"

She tilted her head, looking at Steve through the open window of his car. He perked up seeing her face, and subtly lifted his hand from the wheel to wave with a smile.

She snapped back up. "No." "Don't be so judgemental," I argued, folding my arms. "I'm not going on a date just because you tell me to." "You go on many dates. What's one more?" She scoffed. "First of all, I do not go on many dates—" "Are you still with Ethan?" I asked. Gabby frowned. "Who's Ethan?" "My point is made." Gabby shook off my comment and continued. "He's your taxi driver." "So?" "So I'm not interested." "But he really likes you," I pined. "This would make him so happy. Happy enough to hide the fact that I just got shot at multiple times at my flat." I held a fake smile, forcing my tone on the last sentence. She shook her head and groaned. "Fine. One date." "That's all I was asking for."

I unlocked my phone as Steve's lit up from the cupholder in the car. "What's this?" he asked. "Gabby's number." His joy was immeasurable as he squealed. "I have to go but thank you. Have fun at your book club." He beamed. "Yes! And you have fun with... killing... people." "I will." I tapped the car then froze, realising what I had just said. "Just to clarify, I didn't mean that. I don't actually have fun killing people." Steve shrugged. "I'm not one to judge." Before my gaping mouth could conjure a reply, he reversed out the street and into the night.

Gabby sighed, shaking her head at where the car once was. "Let's take you to Barnes." I should not have felt so happy as I did in hearing that. "Let's go."

***

Taking the elevator was too much of a risk as we could have been easily cornered at any floor, making the stairs the safest option. We jogged for a few minutes, the top floor being the target.

"What do we know so far?" I asked, pulling myself up with the railing. "Collins and I managed to get into Alistair's emails. His plan is to extinguish most of the Government during the meeting later this week. With them out the way and his contacts in the Government left alive, he can seize control for long enough to start a war with Russia using nuclear launch codes." I groaned. "It's always nuclear launch codes." "The problem is," she continued, "is that we don't know where this meeting will be. All I could find was that it is due to be in a more remote location to avoid attracting attention from the media." "You mean to kill them without being blamed for it," I retorted quietly.

Gabby's shoes scuffled against the metal as she stopped. "Oh my god," she breathed. I turned to see her staring at her phone, her brown eyes glassy and more doe-eyed than usual in the white reflection of the phone.

"Has Steve texted you an original love poem?" I asked. "N-no! It's just... go upstairs to meet Collins and Barnes. I think I've got you a way out of London."

I nodded and she turned around to go back downstairs, having no time to question her and relying solely on trust.

After dragging myself up the last couple of flights, I burst through the doors to the top floor, dizzy as I took deep breaths.

I turned a corner and collided with a hard chest.

Panic surged through me as I feared Mika had caught up, but I soon eased as I looked up to see his face. "Amber!" he exclaimed. I almost gasped. "Derek." Collins approached from behind him, brows low – I hadn't noticed he was there. "Derek?" I swallowed. "Collins." "Collins! Of course." I furrowed my brows at the bubbly voice from behind Barnes, tilting my head to look at the petite teenager with light brown freckled skin, chestnut hair and oak eyes. "Who are you?" "Jade," she replied. "Who's Jade?" "Me." She grinned. Barnes groaned. "My stepsister." I nodded. I was unaware he had one. "Oh. I hope you're okay after growing up with that." Barnes's jaw dropped at my subtle grin. "It's been ten seconds, Knight." Jade snorted. "I like you already." "She rubs off on people," Barnes explained. I hid my smile surprisingly well.

Collins tapped me on the arm. "We need to get the three of you out of London. Gabby said to head for the roof." "Are you coming too?" Jade asked. He shook his head. "There's more to do here and Gabby cannot do it alone." "What if Alistair already knows about you?" I sighed as a shadow crossed his face. "Collins..." "We'll take whatever he gives us," he said, smiling to assure us all. "Don't worry about us."

I swallowed. Although I only ever referred to him as a colleague, Collins had proved himself to be a trusted friend for almost as long as Scotty. He knew about my past – though through no consent of my own – but did not judge nor pity me for it, just as I had done with his. "We'll come back for you," I promised. He nodded, though I had a feeling he did not believe it. "You need to—"

We ducked to the floor at the drumming of bullets, Barnes shielding his sister. From the way they sparked off the wall behind us, the bullets were intended for stunning rather than killing. Collins noticed this, too.

The four of us shuffled around and pressed our backs to the wall around a corner as the shooter stormed out war. Collins, who stole a glance around the corner, turned to me. "Get them out," he said. No. Not this again. "What are you—?"

He threw himself into the corridor, right into the line of fire so a bullet struck him in the abdomen. My mouth fell open, but I understood: we could escape with the shooter distracted.

Collins grunted as he fell to his knees, one hand on his stomach, his blonde waves covering his face. "Collins, where is Knight?" I would have recognised that cold, cutting voice anywhere. The shooter was Alistair.

Collins's face twisted in desperate, telling us to run. "Go," he hissed. "Leave!"

I climbed to my feet and pulled Jade up, ushering Barnes to follow us around the corner. We headed for the door that led to the staircase, taking us directly to the roof.

Gabby's plan had to work. If not, we were trapped.

Our frantic footsteps banged against the metal, echoing so loudly through the tenebrous, metal staircase that I feared Alistair could hear. I led the others, Barnes trailing just behind me with Jade bringing up the rear. The girl was exhausted. Panting and wheezing, she sluggishly tried to catch up with us. "Are you alright back there?" I asked, using a railing to drag myself around a corner. "Sport isn't my strongest asset," she panted. "Aw, do you need us to stop?" Barnes teased. She shot him a glare. "At least I have the effort to turn up to school every day, unlike someonewhen they were sixteen." Barnes scoffed. "Excuse me, I am a successful agent of MI6!" "You call this successful?" I gestured between us. Jade stifled a laugh but her brother caught on, shoving her gently.

I sighed in relief as we approached the large metal door that led to the rooftop. "Here we are," I said, trying the handle. It jammed – Gabby mustn't have been up yet. "Jade, do you have a couple of hairpins or something? I need to pick the lock." "No need," said Barnes, cracking his knuckles. "Stand back."

I did as asked, and watched in astonishment as he thrust his foot towards the door.

The sounds reverberated in my chest as his boot collided with steel, breaking the lock off the door so that it clanged on the floor. The door swung open and bounced back slightly as it hit the wall outside.

My eyes widened in bewilderment. Barnes looked at me over his shoulder, his lips stretching into a proud smile. "Problem, agent?" I opened my mouth to respond but no words came out. Instead I looked away, straightening myself up and shutting my mouth to not look so dumbfound. "No-one likes a show-off," I said, striding passed him. He chuckled under his breath, allowing Jade to follow behind me before he joined us at the back.

I turned around as I walked, looking for any sign of Gabby's escape plan, frowning at the desolate emptiness.

We were at the roof with no instructions left. I imagined Gabby to have found a way out of London such as a helicopter, plane or... something.

"Is your friend a fan of riddles?" Barnes asked. I shook my head. "There's nothing here. Nothing."

Headquarters stretched high into the city skyline, through the barrier of transport and population-fuelled heat and into the bitter winds just beneath the clouds. Sirens blared from the streets below, cars roaring and clubs cheering as the London Eye watched over it all with its electric blue iris. While everywhere else slept, the city stayed wide awake.

Clouds rumbled overhead. I looked up, expecting to see a flash of lightning but finding only clouds. The wind began to pick up, dust swirling around the rooftop, trapping the three of us inside as the vibrations drummed into the building. I squinted, the cool air making my eyes sting, holding a hand in front of my face to see through my waving hair.

"Look!" Jade exclaimed, pointing to the sky.

I frowned, unable to see but scenting burning fuel in a motor. I gripped my wild hair, holding it away from my face as a large silhouette emerged from the tar-black clouds.

A helicopter.

I sighed, a laugh falling from my lips. The three of us backed away, giving the helicopter space to land. The pilot called out to us, but the whipping propellers blocked out all other noise. I caught an accent, a faint whisper carried by the wind, and held my breath.

The three of us clambered inside, Barnes helping Jade. The aircraft rose from the ground before the door was even shut, knocking the three of us back. "Alright, mate. I haven't even closed the door yet!" he exclaimed, ramming it shut. The pilot scoffed. "I think I deserve a bit of leeway considering you cost me Stacey."

My heart stopped, everything around me suspended in its place. I knew that Scottish accent better than my own voice. It had made me laugh for years, cheering me up and bringing joy to every single day. It echoed around the helicopter when I thought I would never hear it again; not after what happened in France.

I stood up, my legs shaking like a breaking branch. "Scotty?" I breathed, my throat turning dry. I stared at the pilot's seat in apprehension, begging for it to be him as he tapped the control pad to activate autopilot. He stood up, turning to smile at me with mischief. "Who else is gonna pull your arse out the fire?" I laughed, not hesitating for even a second to charge and throw my arms around his shoulders, hugging him tightly, taking in his warmth. "Scotty Williams you owe me so much for that stunt!" I cried, my voice unstable, ready to break down. Scotty laughed, holding me tightly. "I owe you? You weren't the one that crashed a helicopter!" "No, it was a tree I crashed into," I retorted. He put his hands on my face, squeezing my cheeks in the way he knew I hated but couldn't help but relish. "I've missed you so much, Ambi. I've been worried ever since." "Scotty," said Barnes. "Look, I—" "No-one cares, pretty boy," he snapped, letting go of me. "Now sit!"

Scotty motioned for Barnes to sit as though he were a boisterous puppy. Jade's eyes widened as he folded his arms challenging me, then looking to me with confusion. "What the hell is going on?" she asked. "This doofus sent my poor Stacey to the grave!" Scotty yelled. Jade's eyes almost popped from her skull. "You killed his girlfriend?!" "His helicopter," I corrected, far more calmly than the rest of the group. Scotty scoffed. "Amber! She—" "Was not just a helicopter, I know," I finished, touching his arm for comfort.

The two men locked narrowed eyes, scowling murderously. I needed to change the topic to avoid a homicide.

I coughed. "How did you survive the crash?" "It wasn't fun," he admitted. "I ejected right at the last minute and ended up landing in a river. I had to swim to safety." I frowned. "I thought you couldn't swim." Derek snorted. "No, I—uh." Scotty cleared his throat, blushing. "It involved a lot of flailing limbs, splashing around and occasional drowning until I washed up on the shore." "The agency really doesn't have high standards for their entry requirements, do they?" said Jade. "And we're top level," chuckled Scotty, looking between us. "No wonder the agency is so screwed." "It says a lot about us below, to be honest," Derek confessed, rubbing the back of his neck.

It did. It really did.

"Did Gabby fill you in?" I asked Scotty. "Yep," he replied. "I've found a lovely cruise ship with an empty room we can squat in until Gabby and Collins figure out where Alistair's murder-fest is going to take place." "Collins got apprehended," I explained. "We may only have Gabby." Scotty exhaled. "Well then, we really are screwed, aren't we?" "A cruise ship?" Jade echoed. "Wow! I've never been on one. Where's it going?" "Somewhere you're not," said Barnes. Scotty and I held our breaths, sensing an argument. "I'm not going?" Jade quizzed. "Why not?" "You've been kept in a cell for weeks," Barnes explained. "Rick will want to see you; he'll be worried." "Won't I be safer with the three of you?" She looked to me for an answer. "No," Barnes said, his tone blunt. "Amber and Scotty are still tracked. Even if we cut them out, we'll be found sooner or later." Jade stood. "But—!" "You'll only get it the way," he snapped. Scotty and I jolted. "We're taking you home. No more arguments." "What if they come back again?" her voice broke. "What if they use me and dad against you?" "Go somewhere different," Barnes replied. "Get out of London for a few days. Find a hotel." "And how will we defend ourselves? I love dad but we both know he's not a fighter." Scotty shared a glance with me then stepped forward. "I could look after them," he said. "I'm not much of a fighter, either, but I can defend someone if I need to. Besides, they're after you and Amber now, not them. They won't waste many resources in tracking down a hostage." Barnes shook his head. "I don't know you. How can I trust—" "You can," I butted in. "He'll keep them safe. I promise he will." His features softened. "Alright. Jade?" She kissed her teeth. "Fine. Whatever you say goes, right?" "I'll drop Amber and Barnes off at the cruise first," Scotty told her. "Then I can take you and your dad to another location."

She turned around and slumped in one of the seats, folding her arms with a heavy sigh. Scotty coughed. "Barnes, do you want to give me the address?" He followed him to the cockpit, Scotty handing me a small knife as he walked passed. "We need to cut your tracker out." "Oh joy," I winced, cringing at the cutting light reflecting off the blade.

I let out a groan, leaning back against the wall of the hangar to look around. This was a new model, smelling fresh with the subtle hint of fuel. Everything was pristine, not a hint of Scotty anywhere. "Where'd you get the helicopter?" I asked. Scotty was typing Jade's address into the navigator. "Remember that model Collins wanted me to have a while back?" "When you refused to replace Stacey?" He whimpered. "Yeah. I texted Gabby asking for access since blondie never answers his phone. Should have maybe mentioned I was alive first." That was what had Gabby so shaken. "You cruel little man." "Less of the 'little,' okay?"

I snorted, leaving Scotty and Barnes to bicker quietly in the cockpit over the best location to move his family to. Meanwhile, Jade sulked in one of the solid grey seats, refusing to look at any of us, an awkward air lingering between her and Barnes. It was not my place to comment – I did not know Jade well, or their family history – and I feared any remarks from me had a chance of causing more problems than they would solve.

Barnes sat down without a word, opposite his sister and next to my standing perch against the wall, though he did not initiate a conversation as normal.

The silence was killing me. "Bar—" No. We had passed that point already. If we were to evade the agency together, we at least had to call each other by our own names. "Derek." He looked up. "What did you do to get marked as rogue, exactly?" He had discovered Alistair's plans, but I never knew his story. He ran his tongue across his lips, pondering an answer. "I had a friend – work acquaintance, really – called Harry. He told me he had lost a few friends recently and said he believed Alistair was, in short, a shady bloke. I called him paranoid, so he said he would find proof that implicated the Director. I haven't seen him since." "I'm sorry." "Don't be. I did the 'smart' thing and poked around the top floor for a bit, finding a handwritten letter from who I now know to be Mika. He reached out to Alistair, claiming he had political allies that could offer power. Nothing bad at first. I only found it strange that someone would offer to help the Secret Service. But I overheard them talking one day. Alistair got emotional and confided in Mika about his family until they decided that Russia was the issue, and that the agency should do something about it." "How did you get found out?" "I stole the letter," he replied. "Alistair sent security, but I managed to slip away, offering money to a few people I used to hang around as a teenager in exchange for protection. That was when I tried to leave the country." "On the cruise ship?" "Precisely. In the rush of everything, I forgot about my tracker. Meeting you reminded me of that and I cut it out on my way to the Alps. While hiding out in a cabin, Alistair managed to get a message to me, saying he had Jade and would only return her if I co-operated with you." It made sense; the phone calls, the surrender. Only one thing was left to question. "Mika's only condition was your life," I said. "Why does he hate you so much?" Derek let out a long sigh. "I made a mistake. I'd rather not talk about it." "Probably stole his girlfriend or something," muttered Scotty. Derek bit his lip, shaking his head, finished talking.

I moved to sit in the cockpit with Scotty, keen to look out the window. London's skyline shrunk behind a stream of fog and stars, blanketing everything I knew. I was leaving everything behind: my home, my job, my mentor. I could never go back to my life until Alistair was exposed... or killed. Either way, he was no longer a positive aspect of my life.

It was still so raw, and I began to wonder how much work Scotty and I had done in service of his own selfish agenda. How many innocents died for his cause? How many by my own hand? Looking back on my own work, all I could see was the same view from the window: stars shrouded in fog. So many achievements, so few answers.

I took a deep breath and cooled my forehead against the window. There had to have been some good done in the world since I became an agent. Only recently had Alistair fully committed himself to his cause; as Derek said, it was his meeting with Mika that truly sparked it. His dislike for the Government had been evident for years, but it had only been vocalised through complaints and heated debates. Most of our orders came from our country's leaders directly, I had to remind myself, therefore some of it had to have been for the greater good, at least. I could not let myself fall down that hole of self-doubt again; the one Alistair had dragged me away from.

I hated it – hated all of it. After Marcus, Alistair had raised me through my teenage years. From the day I declared my desire to become an agent, he told me that killing for revenge alone was never justified, reiterating this when I lost control after Marcus broke free from his prison. He said it would ruin me, and I stood by that advice, holding onto that shred of human innocence until a clear order had me pull the trigger.

"Amber," Derek said softly. "Are you okay? You look pale." I nodded slowly, wiping the condensation from my forehead. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just tired." I smiled to back up my answer – a smile that he mirrored. "Okay," he said. "Good."

He did not believe me at all.

Once he was out of earshot, Scotty tapped me on the shoulder, startling me. "What's wrong?" "Since when did he start calling you 'Amber'?" he asked, whispering. "And when did you become okay with it?" I crossed over my legs, suddenly uncomfortable. "I don't know." "Shouldn't he stop? I mean, he did taser you." "I tasered him so we're even," I said with a shrug. "I'd hardly call that even," said Derek, clearly overhearing us. It was true that I had done far worse since then. Even if he joked about it, I regretted every minute of it. "Still, I don't like him," Scotty replied, shooting a glare his way. Derek was sitting with a blank expression, staring at nothing in particular as though lost in his own thoughts. "He's not terrible." "What was that, Knight?" he stirred. "I'm just saying how terrible you are," I replied, louder. Scotty's face contorted with confusion as Derek gasped, folding his hands over his chest. "You wound me, Knight. My ego is falling." "Maybe one day it'll reach you IQ." He winced, "That one hurt."

Scotty scoffed and twirled around in his seat to face the dashboard. "I'll just be here. You know, flying the helicopter so we don't crash again."

With a gesture from Barnes, I swivelled my chair around. "What's his problem?" he whispered. I shrugged, a frown fixed on my best friend. Scotty was an acquired taste, his quirky nature sometimes coming across as rude or overbearing to the wrong listener, but I had a knack for recognising when his attitude change was intentional. He disliked Derek, but despite other individuals treating us far more poorly in the past, none had received an exchange so negative as he had from Scotty. I shook my head, perplexed. "For once, I genuinely have no idea."