5. Luna #2
“We’ve had an incredible year so far,” she begins, her voice smooth as silk but firm as steel. “We’ve dismantled several trafficking rings, rescued dozens of women and children, and disrupted operations across multiple continents with the help of our counterparts.”
There’s a soft wave of claps and nods from the room. I offer a half-hearted clap, but let’s be honest—my brain is already five miles down a daydream spiral.
Alright, Isabella. Hit us with it. What’s the next world-saving nightmare you’re about to throw at us?
Jungle extraction? Arctic infiltration? A gala in an underground criminal fortress where we wear gowns and smuggle daggers in our heels?
Okay… I like that one. Mental note: pitch that later.
Isabella carries on, blissfully unaware of my internal rambling. “I couldn’t be prouder of what we’ve accomplished, but as always, our work isn’t done.”
Here it comes.
Her eyes scan the room, sharp and steady.
“Which brings me to our next mission.”
And there it is. Let the chaos begin.
“Team Phoenix and Black Widow will accompany me to New York City for the Horizon Outreach Foundation fundraising event next week.” She pauses, letting the words hang dramatically in the air. “Luna, Amani, Raven—pack your bags. You’re taking the lead on this one.”
My heart skips a beat.
“Wait, what?”
I whip my head toward Amani, who is already grinning like she’s won the damn Powerball, probably mentally packing designer outfits. On the other hand, Raven raises an eyebrow—calm as ever—because, of course, she is.
“Did she just say New York City?” I mutter under my breath, my stomach flipping like I just boarded a roller coaster designed by a psychopath.
Raven doesn’t even look up. “Told you to stop making bets with yourself.”
I ignore her because her judgment isn’t the crisis here.
The real crisis?
Isabella, out of all places on this godforsaken planet, had to pick New York fucking City.
NYC—the one place I swore I’d never step foot in again unless it were a literal life-or-death situation.
Spoiler alert: this doesn’t qualify.
Long story short, New York City is notorious for the mafia world.
Vladimir Petrov’s world.
Vladimir is... complicated.
A lethal mix of danger, power, and oh no, he’s so hot sprinkled in for good measure.
A man so terrifyingly competent yet distractingly gorgeous, it should be illegal.
And now I’m being forced back into his city. Into his territory. And honestly?
I’d rather stick my hand in a blender.
The last time I saw him, we were facing off at the docks in Philly, and I told him I would kill him if we crossed paths again.
Somehow, another one of my blades has come into his possession.
*stares at the imaginary audience with a smirk*
I assumed our little cat-and-mouse game would eventually fizzle out—like a bad TV show that finally gets canceled.
But apparently, the universe has other plans—bigger, messier, and not on my itinerary.
Amani’s voice breaks through my spiraling.
“Do you think they’ll have those fancy little hors d’oeuvres at the fundraiser? You know, the kind with caviar?”
I turn to her, deadpan. “Amani, we’re about to walk into a hornet’s nest, and you’re worried about fancy snacks?”
She just grins. “What? If we’re risking our lives, we might as well eat well while we’re at it.”
I open my mouth to argue, but—okay, fine. Fair point.
Isabella’s voice slices through our side conversation.
“This isn’t just another foundation fundraiser.
We have intel suggesting several influential attendees may be linked to a trafficking pipeline running through the city.
This mission is twofold: gather intel discreetly and maintain cover while I reconnect with certain allies who may prove... useful.”
“We leave tomorrow morning.” Isabella’s gaze sweeps across the room like a general inspecting her troops. “Pack enough for a month, prepare yourselves, and remember ladies: ‘A woman with a blade doesn’t need permission.’”
I raise my hand like I’m in a really messed-up classroom. “Wait—so we’re just diving into this? No debrief, no strategy session? You’re sending us into New York with less than a day to prepare?”
Isabella doesn’t even blink. “Yes, Luna. That’s exactly what I’m doing.”
Amani snorts. “Welcome to life with Isabella. Spontaneity is her middle name.”
I glare at her. “I hate you.”
Raven flips another page in her notebook. “You’re adorable when you’re panicking.”
“Enough,” Isabella cuts in, her tone sharp enough to slice through steel. “We’ve done well so far, ladies. Let’s make sure we keep it that way.” A rare, almost imperceptible smile touches her lips. “I’ll expect you all in the hangar at 0600 sharp.”
Just like that, the meeting ends.
Everyone moves.
Except me.
I sit frozen, mentally bargaining with the universe to smite me before dawn.
New York? Again? What’s next—running into Vladimir on the first night while wearing a neon sign that says Yes, I still think about you?
Amani and Raven leave, casually chatting like this is just another mission. I stay, staring out the window at the waves crashing below.
Isabella’s words echo in my head: A woman with a blade doesn’t need permission.
Sure. Great tagline.
Tell that to the last guy who caught me with a blade. He still walks with a limp.
New York? It’s not just a mission.
It’s my personal hell, dressed up as a city.
With a vampire as its king.
Fan-fucking-tastic.