From the moment I boarded the plane, I noticed him—the tall, muscular man in a cowboy hat whose intense gaze never wavered. When turbulence hit, he stepped beside me and said quietly, “That’s not what you should be worried about,” before flashing a badge. He revealed he was tracking someone on the flight, and before I could react, screams erupted as he rushed toward a man in a blue jacket. A silver device rolled to my feet and blinked. When I picked it up, he snapped, “Don’t touch that!” but it was too late.
The device contained data, not explosives, he explained—and whoever wanted that man stopped would now target anyone connected to the incident… including me. The plane made an emergency landing, instantly surrounded by black SUVs. As the doors opened, chaos exploded—bullets, shouting, agents everywhere. Maddox shoved me into an SUV, shielding me while glass shattered around us. We were rushed to a secure facility where the data was decrypted.
That’s when Maddox told me the truth: “They know your face now. We can’t let you go home.” My choices were stark—enter witness protection or join the agency. I laughed at the idea, my nerves buzzing from fear and adrenaline, but he wasn’t joking. The world I knew was gone the moment I picked up that device.
Three months later, I was training in the Arizona desert, my old identity erased for my own safety. Life became drills, briefings, and a strange new sense of purpose. Maddox still watched me with that same steady, unreadable intensity—but now, after everything, I watched back.
