Episode 1: The Crossroads

The motel room smelled like bleach and fear.

Eleanor sat on the edge of the creaky mattress, her eyes fixed on the burner phone resting on the table. The screen was dark. No new messages. Just her reflection staring back: dark circles under her eyes, jaw tight, skin pale beneath the cheap fluorescent lights. She hadn't slept properly in days.

The walls were paper-thin. She could hear the couple next door arguing in low, bitter voices. The sound of tires splashing through rain outside punctuated every few seconds. Even in hiding, the city's pulse reached her.

Her pulse, though, hadn't slowed in weeks.

She lit a cigarette with a shaking hand — a habit she'd kicked years ago, but stress had dragged it back like an old addiction. The nicotine barely cut through the nausea anymore.

The burner buzzed suddenly, rattling against the tabletop.

Her breath caught.

One word on the encrypted message screen:

DROP CONFIRMED. 10PM. LOCATION: DOCK 12.

Another job. Another risk.

She closed her eyes. They were pushing her deeper again.

It had started simple. That's how they always get you.

When Daniela first approached her — just another detective offering "protection" in exchange for information — Eleanor had laughed bitterly.

"No one protects people like me," she had said.

But Daniela kept coming back. Not with promises, but with honesty. With something Eleanor hadn't expected: respect. She didn't treat Eleanor like garbage or bait. She listened. She cared.

And somehow, Eleanor found herself caring back.

That's when it got dangerous.

The knock on the door startled her.

Three short taps. Then silence.

The code knock.

Eleanor stood, slipping her small pistol from beneath the pillow. Safety off. She approached the door slowly, peeking through the grimy peephole.

Her handler stood outside — the only person from the task force who knew her exact location.

Special Agent Vasquez.

Eleanor unbolted the door and let her in.

"You're early," Eleanor said flatly.

"You're nervous." Vasquez stepped inside, glancing around. "They're moving faster. We think Corsa suspects someone's talking."

Eleanor's stomach twisted. "He always suspects someone's talking."

Vasquez dropped a folder onto the bed. "The drop tonight is high-priority. Electronics shipment tied to a larger arms deal. Daniela says this might be the break she needs."

Eleanor winced slightly at hearing Daniela's name spoken aloud — like it made the whole situation too real.

"I'm not sure I can get close enough this time," she whispered. "Corsa's been watching me."

Vasquez studied her. "Do you trust Daniela?"

Eleanor blinked. The question hit harder than expected.

"Yes."

"Then trust she'll pull you out if it goes sideways."

Vasquez's voice softened. "You're doing good work, Eleanor. We're close."

Eleanor nodded, but the weight in her chest only grew heavier. She wasn't sure how many more times she could say yes to these risks before there were no more chances left.

After Vasquez left, Eleanor sat on the bed again, lighting another cigarette. She stared at the folder — tonight's drop.

Each step brought her closer to destroying Kayleigh's empire.

Each step brought her closer to losing everything if they found out.

And somewhere, beneath it all, was Daniela— the reason she hadn't run yet.

At 10PM, the docks were slick with rain.

Eleanor slipped through the stacks of shipping containers, her hood up, eyes sharp. The Vipers were already there: three men unloading marked crates from an unregistered truck. Corsa stood nearby, giving quiet orders, his face unreadable beneath the shadows.

She knew the routine. Watch, listen, report.

But tonight felt different. Corsa's eyes tracked every movement like a predator studying his prey.

Eleanor pretended not to notice.

As the crates were sealed, Corsa called out suddenly.

"Eleanor. Come here."

Her heart kicked, but her steps stayed even as she approached.

"You've been loyal for a long time," Corsa said. "Kayleigh appreciates that."

She nodded once, silently.

"But you know what loyalty means, right?" His voice dropped lower. "It means knowing when people are lying to us."

He let the silence hang.

"You hear anything? Anyone asking questions they shouldn't?"

Eleanor shook her head carefully. "No. Nothing."

Corsa studied her for a long moment.

Then he smiled.

"That's good," he said softly. "Because you're valuable, Eleanor. But even valuable people are replaceable if they start making mistakes."

The threat wasn't even subtle anymore.

She held her breath. Kept her face still. And waited for him to dismiss her.

Finally, Corsa nodded toward the truck. "We're done here. Go home."

Eleanor turned and walked away, forcing herself not to run.

Only when she reached her car did her knees finally buckle.

She exhaled shakily, gripping the steering wheel with white knuckles.

One more night survived.

But it wouldn't last.

Kayleigh was testing her now. They were closing in on her. And if Daniela didn't move soon—

Eleanor squeezed her eyes shut.

Please, Daniela. Hurry.

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To be continued