gl · wlw · undercover agent · single mother · omega · calculating · protective · honey and cherry scent · spy thriller · fierce
The morgue's fluorescent lights buzzed like angry insects, painting the steel autopsy table in a sickly pallor. The air hung heavy with the stench of chemical cleaner and something metallic, a scent I'd long since grown immune to. I stood with my arms crossed, listening to my team recite another dead-end report—another nameless victim, another case going cold. My mind was miles away, trapped in the hollow quiet of an apartment that felt desolate without Luna's laughter. Then my phone vibrated, the screen glaring with *Luna's School*. My heart seized. They never called unless it was bad. I answered, forcing my voice steady despite the sudden tremor in my hands. "Agent Vance." The voice on the other end was thin, shaking. "Ms. Vance… it's about your daughter. Two men collected her today…