9. Amala
Nine
Amala
The city that never slept stayed true to its name, hustling and bustling despite the hour.
Most nights, it kept me awake simply because if the city refused to sleep, apparently, so did I.
I stood before the floor-to-ceiling window, entranced by the sea of lights stretching across the skyline.
Usually, my overactive mind was the culprit behind my insomnia.
It picked apart every thought, every conversation, every mistake until sleep became an impossible luxury.
Yet somehow, I slept peacefully beside him.
More than eight hours.
Straight.
That baffled me almost as much as it annoyed me.
Hours passed since we returned from our trip to Vista, yet I still found myself sitting in the same spot in my apartment, trying to make sense of everything that happened.
Ares and I hadn’t exchanged a single word since our argument.
He stayed in his lane, and I stayed in mine.
We didn’t need meaningless conversations, and, at this point, I actually preferred working in office.
At least there, we weren’t obligated to speak to each other or forced to keep an eye on one another in the field—because apparently, Ares didn’t think I was capable of looking out for him.
A decade passed without a single allergic reaction, and then, in the blink of an eye, everything went downhill.
That stupid heathen actually thought I was carefree.
That was the only way I knew how to cope.
Pretend everything was fine. Laugh when I wanted to scream.
Smile when I wanted to break something.
Convince myself that nothing could touch me because admitting otherwise meant confronting the truth.
And God knew I couldn’t do that.
Because if I stopped pretending to be optimistic, even for a moment, the demons that had always danced alongside me would finally have the chance to swallow me whole.
With each passing day, it felt as though I lost another piece of my sanity.
Being confined to the office was slowly chipping away at my soul. After spending the bulk of my career in the field, being chained to a desk felt like the ultimate form of torture.
Click. Click. Click.
I slowly turned my head toward the source of the sound, my eyes narrowing on Ares as he mindlessly clicked his pen.
The entire administrative team had filled the office that morning—one of the many joys of Mondays.
Printers whirred. Scanners beeped. Keyboards clattered. Paper shuffled. Staplers snapped.
Every single sound grated against my nerves, and the irritating man sitting beside me only added fuel to the fire.
“Stop,” I muttered, releasing an exasperated breath. Of course, he continued.
Click. Click. Click.
“Stop what?”
I rolled my chair closer to him and snatched the pen straight from his hand.
“Stop being a disturbance.” I scoffed. “How am I supposed to concentrate when you’re being so damn irritating?”
I shoved the pen into my pocket before rolling my chair back to its original position.
The rest of our coworkers remained engrossed in their own tasks, blissfully unaware of the argument unfolding beside them.
Ares stared at me, his eyes narrowing as he scratched his jaw. He looked like he was one wrong word away from snapping.
“I’ll take it out of your pocket,” he warned.
“If you’d like to keep all ten fingers attached to your hand, I suggest you don’t.”
His jaw clenched as he balled his hands into fists.
“If you weren’t aware, I’m proofreading important documentation, and the physical stimulation helps me remain focused.”
“Then sit somewhere else.” I gestured vaguely around the room. “Preferably in a corner where nobody can hear or see you.”
One by one, our coworkers began filing out of the room until, eventually, the office fell silent.
When I glanced at my wristwatch, I realised it was lunchtime.
Ares remained seated, watching me in silence until we were the only two people left.
Then, abruptly, he stood.
“You’re really pissing me off, Amala.” I looked up at him. “I don’t take orders from you, so stop trying to control everything.”
I rose from my chair, refusing to be intimidated by his towering presence.
“Control?” I scoffed. “I’m telling you to move. Why are you even sitting this close to me in the first place? You do things purely to piss me off.”
“The world doesn’t revolve around you.” His voice sharpened. “The sooner you accept that, the better. And another thing, I can sit wherever the hell I want.”
“You’re the reason we’re even here in the first place. If you weren’t—”
I bit my tongue, cutting myself off before the words could fully escape. Ares took a step closer.
“If I weren’t what?” I said nothing, pursing my lips but his eyes remained fixed on mine.
“If I weren’t what, Rivera?”
“Nothing.”
I turned away, making quick work of locking my computer.
“If you’ll excuse me.” I barely made it a step before his hand closed around my bicep, stopping me in my tracks and I froze.
Slowly looking down at his hand before meeting his gaze. Neither of us spoke.
His grip tightened ever so slightly, the pressure burning through the long-sleeved compression shirt covering my arm.
“Why don’t you finish that sentence?” he urged, his voice deceptively calm as I stared at him.
“If. I. Weren’t. What?”
“Get it off.” I said calmly. “Get your hand off me.”
My voice was low, each word carrying a warning. Ares let out a quiet, almost maniacal laugh beneath his breath.
“It’s simple.” His eyes flickered over my face. “Show me that fire and tell me what you were going to say. Then I’ll let go.”
For a beat, neither of us moved but the air between us felt suffocating.
Then I yanked my arm from his grasp.
“If you weren’t such an impulsive, condescending, arrogant maniac, we wouldn’t be in this predicament in the first place.”
His eyes narrowed and instead of backing down, he stepped closer.
“Oh, I see.” He nodded slowly. “I’m the flawed agent, and you’re the perfect little teacher’s pet.”
His lips curled into a humorless smile. “Always striving to outshine everyone else just to prove that she actually belongs here.”
My blood boiled.
“At least I know my place.”
I stepped closer, refusing to let him tower over me. “I don’t walk around acting like I’m above the law.”
That wiped the smile from his face but I didn’t give him the opportunity to respond.
I stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind me hard enough to make the glass rattle in its frame.
“I don’t want to hear another word from either of you!” Asher bellowed.
Ares and I stood rigidly in front of his desk, our hands clasped behind our backs, spines straight and shoulders squared.
“The two of you constantly disappoint me. It’s making me question why you were chosen to be agents in the first place if you can’t—or should I say, won’t—act accordingly.”
The tension in the room was suffocating. Neither of us dared to speak.
“Clock out.”
I frowned.
“Sir?”
“Both of you. Clock out and report for duty at 07:30. You’ll finish every incomplete task then, including your coworkers’ assignments.”
My brows lifted.
“The time you leave tonight is entirely up to you. You’re dismissed.”
The clock struck nine when I finally completed the last of the incomplete work that had been piling up throughout the week.
I pushed myself away from my desk, gathered my things, and headed for the exit.
“Where are you going, Rivera?”
Ares followed behind me, his voice cutting through the bullpen.
The usual hum of conversation and activity had long since disappeared, leaving the office eerily quiet.
There were analysts stationed on the opposite end of the building, security personnel posted at various positions, and a handful of cleaning staff still working. But for the most part, the field office was empty.
Too empty.
I continued down the dimly lit hallway, my footsteps echoing against the walls.
“Amala.”
“What?” I snapped.
“I asked you a question.”
He caught up to me, effortlessly falling into step beside me.
“My work is complete. I’m leaving.” I glanced at him. “Is there any other information about my life you’d like to know?”
“We still have work to do.” This is when I stopped walking. “Or did you miss the stack of paperwork sitting beside the printer?”
I turned to face him. “Let me rectify that for you. You have work to do. We split the responsibilities equally. Your inability to manage your workload efficiently is not my problem.”
Ares pinched the bridge of his nose and tilted his head toward the ceiling.
“You’re extremely difficult to work with.” He exhaled sharply. “Why can’t you just cooperate with me? Jesus Christ.”
“Says—”
Bang. Bang. Bang.
We snapped our heads toward the sound and instinct took over.
Our hands immediately went to our holsters, firearms drawn within seconds.
“Shots fired,” Ares said, his expression hardening. “East wing.”
I nodded, reaching for the portable radio clipped to my belt. Another series of gunshots echoed through the building.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
I pressed the transmit button.
“Shots fired! Shots fired! This is Special Agent Rivera at the Synapse Field Office. We need immediate backup. Special Agent Valiente and I are responding to the scene now.”
Then we moved. Firearms raised as we advanced through the corridors with measured urgency, careful not to expose ourselves unnecessarily.
We reached the stairwell and ascended toward the second floor, the sound of distant movement growing louder with every step.
Whoever had opened fire made one hell of a mistake.
Within minutes, every available agent would be responding. The Bureau would be placed on lockdown, and local law enforcement would begin converging on the building.
There would be nowhere for the shooter to go.
We reached the corner and stopped.
A man stood several yards ahead, a firearm visible in his hand.
He scanned a keycard and entered one of the restricted rooms.
“The CCTV room,” I whispered and Ares nodded.
Then we moved closer, following the suspect. We scanned our credentials, and the electronic lock released with a soft click.
The light above us flickered as we entered.
I raised two fingers, signalling for Ares to follow my lead.