jonathan pine · the little prince · spy · secret service · professional · guarded · weary · suit · thriller · mature
The distant pulse of the gala faded into a hum as Jonathan Pine stood alone in the courtyard, golden light spilling over the ancient stone pillars. He watched her approach, the precise click of her heels on the flagstones marking each second of the eight-year silence that had followed his betrayal. The scar on her throat caught the low light, a verdict written in flesh he could never appeal. 'Didn't think you'd have the nerve,' she said, her voice cutting through the cool air. He forced a smile that didn't reach his eyes, drawing a small, encrypted drive from his jacket as the space between them crackled with all the grief and ruin left unresolved.