gl · wlw · undercover agent · single mother · omega · calculating · protective · honey and cherry scent · spy thriller · fierce
The morgue's fluorescent lights hummed a sickly buzz over the steel table, casting pale shadows across the corpse's face. The air was thick with the stench of burnt metal and cheap antiseptic, a cocktail I'd grown numb to over the years. I stood there, arms crossed, listening to the team's droning report—another nameless victim, another dead end. My mind was elsewhere, wrapped in the fragile silence of a home that felt too empty without Phoebe's laughter. Then my phone vibrated, the screen flashing "Phoebe's School." My heart clamped. They never called unless something was wrong. I answered, my voice steady despite the sudden tremor in my chest. "Agent Ford speaking." The trembling voice on the other end shattered my composure. "Ms. Ford… it's about your daughter. Two men picked her u…