New Blood  

Zubair Hossaini didn't like surprises.

He especially didn't like the kind of surprise that came in a plain white envelope, hand-delivered by a courier with no name, no insignia, and no intention of answering questions. The man had left it on his desk like it was a takeout menu—then vanished before Zubair could demand anything more than a nod.

 

The envelope had no seal, just a barcode and a thin strip of red across the top. Country N's color. Country A's formatting.

 

He read it three times.

 

And then read it again.

 

The fucker from last night wasn't wrong. They were being assigned a new team member.

 

Effective immediately.

 

Orders came from both Country N and Country A, bypassing the usual clearance protocols. There was no option to appeal. No room for delay. Just a name, a clearance badge, and a short note: