Evelyn observed me intently, allowing her words to fully register before continuing.
"Also....You'll be in charge of the team responsible for finding them."
My fingers paused mid-drum, and I blinked. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me." She took another slow sip of coffee, as if she hadn't just dropped another bomb into my lap.
I stared at her. "Since when am I leading this?"
"Since now."
I exhaled sharply, running a hand through my hair. "There has to be someone better for this. I don't exactly have experience in—"
Evelyn cut me off with a look. The kind of look that shut down arguments before they even started.
"You're the boss."
The impact of Evelyn's remarks was like an earthquake.
I looked at her, expecting an explanation, but I didn't get one. Those three words, spoken as though they were self-evident.
She got up and adjusted her coat before I could ask her any more questions. "Good luck," she stated plainly, giving the group one nod before making her way to the door.
She vanished in a matter of seconds.
I rubbed the bridge of my nose and let out a breath. Being placed in charge of a high-level retrieval operation was not one of the things I had anticipated this morning.
Sienna, Camille, and Alexis seemed equally caught off guard, though they processed it in their own ways.
Camille leaned back in her chair, smirking. "Well, look at that. Boss man Reynard, making power moves."
Alexis shot me a side glance, unimpressed. "Don't let it go to your head."
Sienna just sighed. "Try not to get shot."
They didn't stick around much longer after that. One by one, they left to handle their own work—Sienna to her research, Camille to her fashion empire, and Alexis to whatever investigation she was running on my physiology.
Which left me alone, with a job to do.
No backing out now.
The meeting point was in the middle of nowhere.
A dense forest, quiet except for the rustle of trees and the occasional snap of a twig beneath my boots. As I walked, memories of my last time chasing Cipher through a forest clawed at the back of my mind. The feeling of getting blindsided, knocked out—powerless.
I pushed it down. This time was different.
Ahead, nestled between the trees, was a cabin. It looked like something straight out of a spy thriller—rugged but functional, designed for practicality over comfort.
I stepped onto the porch and opened the door.
Twelve guns immediately pointed at my face.
I barely had time to react before instinct kicked in. My system analyzed every detail—the positioning of their fingers, the way their eyes locked onto me, the quality of their gear. These weren't amateurs. They moved like professionals, each one ready to pull the trigger without hesitation.
Except for one.
A blond guy in a Hawaiian shirt and cargo pants.
Anthony.
The absurdity of it almost made me laugh. In a room full of heavily armed operatives, he looked like he had just come from a beach vacation.
The whole scene lasted maybe two seconds.
Then Anthony and I locked eyes.
His expression shifted instantly.
He lowered his gun.
The rest of the team followed.
Anthony grinned, slinging his rifle over his shoulder. "Well, well, well. If it isn't the boss himself."
I let out a slow breath, lowering my hands. "You could've warned them I was coming."
"What, and miss the chance to see you almost soil yourself?" He gestured at the team. "Come on, guys, don't point your guns at our glorious leader. We gotta make a good first impression."
A few of them chuckled. The tension in the room eased.
I scanned the group, noting their equipment. High-grade tactical gear, some with personal modifications—silencers, extra ammunition, reinforced armor plates. These weren't just operatives. They were specialists.
Anthony, on the other hand, looked like he had accidentally walked into the wrong operation.
I crossed my arms. "Hawaiian shirt?"
He looked down at himself, then shrugged. "Hey, gotta keep morale up. You guys are out here dressed like you're in a warzone, meanwhile, I'm bringing the tropical vibes."
One of the operatives—a woman with a sniper rifle slung across her back—sighed. "It's a stealth operation, Anthony. We're supposed to blend in."
"And I do blend in. With the tourists."
I shook my head. "You're ridiculous."
"And you love it."
Before I could argue, the door opened again.
Milan stepped inside.
The team straightened slightly at his presence. Unlike Anthony, Milan looked every bit the part of a leader—black tactical gear, sharp eyes that missed nothing, a calm but commanding presence.
I raised an eyebrow. "Didn't you get fired?"
Milan smirked. "One side of the government wanted me gone. The other wanted me back. Turns out, I'm useful."
I gestured around. "And this? This team?"
"Lying low. But still getting things done."
I nodded, taking it in. So he was working off the books. Makes sense.
Then one of the operatives spoke up. "Actually Boss....why are you here?"
I hesitated.
It hit me then—Evelyn had put me in charge, but I had shown up in the field instead of trying to give orders from a safe distance.
Which was not how this was supposed to work.
I was the strategist, the one who was supposed to oversee and direct from afar. But here I was, standing in the middle of the squad like I was just another agent.
Before I could say anything, Anthony clapped a hand on my shoulder.
"Come on, guys. This is Reynard we're talking about. Of course he's here." He smirked. "He's the type of boss who doesn't just sit in a chair and give orders—he proves he's worth following."
There was a beat of silence.
Then, surprisingly, a few of them nodded.
One of the operatives—short, stocky, built like a tank—grunted. "Not bad. Most bosses don't bother showing up."
Another crossed his arms. "Yeah. Respect."
I glanced at Anthony, who shot me a small, knowing grin.
I sighed. "Thanks."
"No problem, boss," he murmured.
But that still left the real question—what now?
We gathered around the table, where Milan had spread out a map of the city.
"We've marked potential locations that might be connected to the missing prototypes," he explained. "Old company rivals, abandoned warehouses, trillion-dollar corporations that could be backing illegal experiments. Standard suspects."
I studied the map. They were thorough. If there was a lead to be found, it was probably already here.
And yet—
Something felt off.
My instincts had been screaming at me since Evelyn mentioned mass production.
If you had the ability to create hundreds, maybe thousands of skill enhancers…
Why would you keep them?
Why not sell them?
A slow realization settled in my chest.
I straightened, tapping a different section of the map.
"The black market," I said.
The room quieted.
Milan raised an eyebrow. "You think they're selling them?"
I nodded. "If I had this kind of tech, I wouldn't just hoard it. I'd distribute it. Quietly. In places where no one's tracking sales."
Anthony let out a low whistle. "That's… actually smart."
Milan exchanged glances with a few of his team members. "If that's the case, then we need to start tracing transactions. Illegal skill enhancement tech would go for insane prices."
"Exactly." I leaned forward. "Forget warehouses. Forget corporate leads. If we want to find this tech, we follow the money."
The plan shifted.
The teams paired up, preparing to dive into the underground world of illicit trading. Milan and Anthony were with me. The others would split off to track down different leads.
Before we left, I glanced around the room, meeting their eyes.
This wasn't just about retrieving stolen tech anymore.
It was about finding out who had it.
And why.
If someone had the power to mass-produce skill enhancements, the real question wasn't where they were hiding.
It was what they were planning to do with them.
And I had a bad feeling we weren't going to like the answer.