I was back at my desk the next morning, sifting through reports when Monroe approached. His footsteps were measured, the kind of stride that announced power without needing to demand it. Scarlett, sitting at her desk across from me, straightened as he arrived, her face schooled into a polite expression of interest. She glanced at me subtly, our silent code acknowledging the shift.
"V," Monroe said, his voice low and laced with that false camaraderie he loved to employ, "I have a new assignment. High-priority, confidential." He gave a cursory nod toward Scarlett. "For both of you, actually."
He didn't offer any further explanation right away, but his eyes held a glint of something—something too calculated, even for him. Whatever this was, he needed it handled delicately.
I leaned back, masking my curiosity under a façade of deference. "Of course, sir. What's the nature of this assignment?"
Monroe's gaze flicked to the doors, as if ensuring no one would overhear. "We've detected a leak within the upper echelons. Sensitive information has been funneled to sources outside the department. Classified documents—details about Steele's legacy, internal directives, even records on our compliance initiatives. This could compromise everything we've worked for." He paused, letting the words sink in. "No one knows but us. And I'd prefer it stays that way."
Scarlett exchanged a quick glance with me, her face impassive, but I knew her well enough to detect the spark of intrigue in her eyes. This was something we could work with.
"Do we have any leads?" she asked, adopting the same professional tone.
Monroe nodded. "Minimal, but substantial. We have reason to believe it's someone embedded in the government's inner network—a trusted figure with access to high-level files. Someone with enough authority to go undetected until now. I want you both to investigate, dig into every possible lead, and eliminate this threat before it jeopardizes us."
He handed me a slim folder, clearly sanitized of any information that might expose his own ambitions. "This is everything we've uncovered so far. Work quickly and discreetly. If you find anyone connected to this leak, bring it to me immediately. I'll handle the consequences."
I nodded, hiding the faint satisfaction building beneath my calm exterior. "Understood, Director."
Monroe's gaze lingered for a moment longer, as if weighing my loyalty, then he turned and left, his steps echoing down the hall.
When he was out of sight, Scarlett leaned forward, lowering her voice to a whisper. "So, we're tracking down a traitor to protect Monroe's empire. How ironic."
"Not just ironic—useful," I replied, scanning the first page of the file. "A case like this? It could be our way to dismantle Monroe's influence piece by piece. If we play it right, we don't just expose the traitor; we make Monroe look weaker, too."
Her eyes gleamed, understanding the angle. "So instead of reporting the lead to him immediately…"
"…we leak carefully chosen details to his opponents, making it seem like Monroe's grip is slipping. If they think he can't control his own security, they'll start questioning his capability to lead."
I thumbed through the file, noting the limited information inside. Names, vague locations, a few intercepted messages. Nothing concrete. Typical of Monroe—he wanted plausible deniability, just in case. But that could work to our advantage. The less evidence we had, the easier it would be to cast doubt.
"Our first step is finding out who might be receptive to undermining Monroe," I murmured. "People in the government who have a vested interest in Steele's legacy or who don't trust Monroe's methods. Once we know who stands to benefit, we can feed them breadcrumbs that lead to just enough doubt."
Scarlett leaned closer, voice low but fervent. "Miller. He's been openly opposing Monroe's changes, arguing they go against Steele's original intent. If anyone's ready to hear about cracks in Monroe's defenses, it's him."
I nodded. Miller was outspoken, a known ally of Steele, and just idealistic enough to jump at the opportunity to expose any incompetence in Monroe's reign. "We'll start with Miller, then. Let's arrange a discreet meeting—make it seem incidental. If we approach this right, he'll leave that conversation believing Monroe is failing."
That afternoon, I arranged a "chance" encounter with Miller. I orchestrated it so we'd meet in the corridor outside the conference rooms, a place with few surveillance cameras. He was mid-stride, intense as always, his face set in a determined scowl.
"Ah, Miller," I greeted him, letting a faint edge of hesitation enter my tone, as if I were genuinely considering what I was about to say. "I… I wanted to mention something. Strictly between us."
Miller's eyes narrowed, but he gestured for me to go on. "What is it?"
"It's probably nothing," I replied, feigning reluctance. "But I came across some activity that seems… strange. Security protocols have been tightened significantly, and Monroe's suddenly paranoid about leaks. He hasn't disclosed much, but he's ordered an investigation. It makes me wonder if he's losing control over his own command structure."
Miller's eyes darkened, suspicion flaring. "Interesting. You're saying he's… compromised?"
I shrugged, careful not to overplay my hand. "I don't know for certain. But if there's truth to it, it could explain the secrecy. He's put me on the investigation, but he's holding back. I thought you might want to know, given your… concerns about recent changes."
Miller nodded slowly, the wheels in his mind visibly turning. "You're right to tell me, V. If Monroe is compromised, it's not just a threat to him—it's a threat to everyone under his oversight. We need stability, not these endless compliance measures."
I offered a measured nod, just enough to solidify his doubts without giving anything conclusive away. "I'll keep you posted if I find anything concrete. But be careful who you discuss this with—Monroe wouldn't take kindly to anyone questioning his leadership."
Miller's mouth tightened, and I could see the first hints of distrust settling in. He would think on this, stew over it, and start sharing his suspicions with others in the department, carefully, at first, but steadily louder. And every time he did, he'd plant a seed of doubt about Monroe's competence.
Returning to my office, I debriefed Scarlett. "Miller's on board. He'll question Monroe's stability to anyone who'll listen, and that questioning will start to erode Monroe's support. But we'll need more."
Scarlett nodded thoughtfully. "Let's keep feeding Miller and his allies fragments. Nothing concrete—just enough to make them think Monroe's losing his edge. And with the leak case under our control, we can mislead Monroe just as easily, giving him the wrong suspects, keeping him distracted while his opponents gather."
I couldn't help the faint smirk that tugged at the corner of my mouth. Monroe had placed his trust in me, hoping to secure his empire. But he didn't realize that the more I fed into his need for control, the more I was weakening his foundation.
In the coming days, Scarlett and I worked meticulously, balancing our roles as Monroe's loyal assistants with our growing network of contacts in his opposition. Each piece of "evidence" we provided led Miller and his allies one step closer to the belief that Monroe's reign was riddled with instability. And as Monroe became increasingly paranoid, scrutinizing his own people, Sentinel's eyes were focused inward, leaving room for us to move in the shadows, unhindered.
The leak investigation was still ongoing, but it was no longer just a hunt for a traitor. It was a stage—a carefully orchestrated show that would end with Monroe's empire crumbling from within. And as his allies dwindled and his paranoia grew, I'd be standing there, the perfect, compliant assistant, waiting to watch the final curtain fall.
As I rounded a corner on my usual rounds through the facility, a familiar figure came into view, causing me to stop mid-step. There, adjusting her intern badge and studying a tablet with rapt attention, was Lucy.
Lucy, my college roommate—the introverted, insecure writer who used to shrink at the thought of public speaking, now standing here, her posture slightly more upright, her expression far more focused than I remembered. And just as I began to think I might slip by unnoticed, she glanced up, her face brightening the moment she saw me.
"V!" She practically beamed, all traces of her usual shyness disappearing as she closed the distance between us. "I can't believe it's you!"
A faint smile tugged at my lips, masking the flash of surprise at her confidence. "Lucy," I replied. "It's… unexpected to see you here. Working under Silva, no less."
She nodded enthusiastically, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "It's surreal, really. A few months ago, I wouldn't have dreamed of stepping into a place like this." She glanced down, a bit of the old Lucy returning, before she looked up again, her expression sincere. "But, you know, I wanted to challenge myself. And here I am."
Her eyes sparkled, and despite myself, I found a trace of respect. It wasn't often someone from my past life entered this world—and she, of all people, had somehow ended up working with my government rival.
"So, how's it going?" I asked, careful to keep my tone light. "Anderson Silva… he can be a challenge, can't he?"
She gave a little laugh, a touch of her old nervousness returning. "Oh, he's… intense. But honestly? I feel like I'm actually growing here. I'm learning things, meeting people I never thought I'd be able to approach." She paused, looking at me earnestly. "It feels like I'm… well, finally coming out of my shell."
I nodded, wondering just how involved she'd become with Silva's projects. This might be more useful than I'd initially thought. "It's good to see you, Lucy," I replied, genuinely. "We should catch up sometime. I'd like to hear more about what you're working on here."
She nodded, smiling warmly. "I'd love that, V."
Lucy's excitement softened into something warmer, more familiar, as she adjusted her grip on her tablet and glanced around, as if expecting someone to interrupt. "It's funny," she said, a little quieter now, "I used to feel so out of place everywhere. But here, somehow… I don't know, I feel like I'm finally making something of myself."
Her words lingered, bringing me back to late nights at college when she'd hesitantly share stories and ideas, always seeking reassurance that she was good enough. Seeing her like this—more self-assured, genuinely happy—stirred something unexpected in me.
"I'm glad to hear it," I replied, and I meant it. "You deserve it, Lucy."
She blushed a bit, smiling down at her shoes before looking back up with a shy chuckle. "Thanks, V. Really."
A brief silence settled between us, and then her expression turned serious, as though she was about to share something personal. "It's just… working here is different from what I expected. I'm learning a lot, but some of the things I hear… well, let's just say Anderson has a way of doing things that's not always straightforward." She paused, chewing her lip as if debating whether to say more.
I tilted my head, keeping my expression neutral but prompting her just enough. "Government work rarely is straightforward," I said. "Especially at this level. But if you're working with Silva, I'd imagine it's even less so."
She nodded, a small frown settling between her brows. "There are… projects, conversations. Some things don't always feel right." Her eyes darted to the side, and I knew she was measuring her words carefully. "I don't know. It's not my place to question, I guess."
"Questioning is healthy," I replied, an edge of encouragement in my tone. "Especially if you're close to important work."
Her eyes met mine, her gaze steady despite the vulnerability behind it. "Maybe… maybe someday I'll tell you more. It just feels like there's a lot happening here that no one really talks about, you know? Like a whole undercurrent beneath the surface."
She wasn't wrong. And if she was aware of even fragments of Silva's operations, I could use that. But it wouldn't be wise to push her too quickly. Letting her come to me on her own terms would make her insights that much more valuable.
"Whenever you're ready, Lucy," I said, letting the words carry a sense of reassurance. "You know I'm here."
She smiled, visibly relieved. "Thanks, V. I'll… keep that in mind." She glanced at her tablet, flustered, as if suddenly remembering her responsibilities. "I should get back. Anderson has me sorting through some data on project clearances." She rolled her eyes slightly, smiling as if to dismiss the weight of her words.
We shared a brief, lingering look before she excused herself, turning back toward the rows of offices. As I watched her go, a subtle satisfaction settled over me. If she was as observant as she'd always been, Lucy might just be the key to understanding what Silva was planning—and to finding out who Monroe's other enemies might be.