Chapter 3

I didn't need to watch the next four deaths in detail. I skimmed the reports, the cold, hard data scrolling past my eyes.

`DEATH_LOG_04: POISONING. ANTIDOTE ADMINISTERED TO CHLOE DAVIS FIRST. ASSET EXPIRED. FAVOR #4 UTILIZED.`

`DEATH_LOG_05: FALL FROM HEIGHT. OPERATIVE CARTER SECURED CHLOE DAVIS, ASSET IMPACTED GROUND. FAVOR #5 UTILIZED.`

`DEATH_LOG_06: HOSTAGE SITUATION. OPERATIVE CARTER NEGOTIATED FOR CHLOE DAVIS'S RELEASE ONLY. ASSET TERMINATED. FAVOR #6 UTILIZED.`

`DEATH_LOG_07: BOATING ACCIDENT. OPERATIVE CARTER RESCUED CHLOE DAVIS FROM WATER. ASSET DROWNED. FAVOR #7 UTILIZED.`

It was a litany of neglect, a pattern of sacrificial abandonment. Each time, the circumstances were different, but the choice was always the same. Chloe lived. I died.

Then I opened the last file. The one that felt different.

`DEATH_LOG_08`

The white void morphed into a sleek, modern office. Mark Thompson's office. The simulation was from a security camera's perspective. I saw Alex sitting across from Mark. Chloe was not in the room.

Mark leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers. "The board is nervous, Alex. This rival company is making aggressive moves. It's affecting my stock, which in turn affects Chloe's financial security."

Alex's jaw was tight. "What do you want me to do, Mark? I'm not a corporate raider."

"No. You're a fixer," Mark said smoothly. "And I know the head of this rival company has a... weakness. He's paranoid. He believes a rogue agent is after him. He's holed up in a safe house."

"Get to the point," Alex said.

Mark smiled, a predator's smile. "I need to flush him out. Create a distraction. If he thought this rogue agent was nearby, he'd move. And when he moves, my people can acquire his company's data. All I need," Mark paused, "is a believable target. Someone whose presence near his safe house would trigger his paranoia."

Alex was silent for a long time. Then he spoke, his voice low. "Sarah."

Mark's smile widened. "She's perfect. No one would question why a fixer's asset is in a dangerous area. It's her natural habitat."

My blood ran cold. This wasn't an accident. This wasn't a split-second choice in a crisis. This was a premeditated plan.

The audio log popped up. The handler's voice was shaking with rage.

"YOU DID WHAT? YOU TRADED HER? YOU USED THE ASSET AS BAIT FOR A CORPORATE TAKEOVER TO IMPRESS YOUR GIRLFRIEND'S FIANCÉ?"

Alex's reply was chillingly calm. "It worked. Mark neutralized the threat. Chloe is happy. And Sarah... Sarah is expendable. That's what the favors are for. I can just bring her back."

"This is a gross misuse of organization resources, Carter! You've lost your mind!"

"I've got it under control," Alex insisted. "It was a clean operation. I'll get her back, and no one's the wiser."

The simulation shifted. I saw myself, the eighth version of me, walking down a street, sent there by Alex on some flimsy pretext. A black van screeched to a halt. Men jumped out. I didn't even have time to scream. A gunshot. Darkness.

Then, the revival.

The simulation showed me waking up in my own bed, gasping, clutching my chest where the phantom bullet hole ached. The door opened.

It was Alex. He had the same look of fake concern he always wore. "Sarah? You okay? You were screaming in your sleep. Another nightmare?"

Right after he had traded my life for a stock portfolio. The hypocrisy was a physical force, and for a second, I thought I was going to be sick in the pristine white void.

The very last file in the log played automatically. It was the audio from the call I'd overheard just before the yacht.

The handler's final warning.

"One favor left, Alex. Only one. After this, she's on her own, and so are you. The council is done."

Alex's voice was a cocky drawl. "Yeah, yeah. I got it."

The simulation ended. The file closed.

And the white void dissolved around me.