Max Davison didn't have friends.
She had cover identities, clean kills, and exit plans.One week, she was an arms dealer's fiancée in East Draycott, seducing him for blackmail data.
Next, she was embedded in Helridge Finance Corp, exposing a CEO's ties to underground bio-weapons deals.
Then she was gone no trail, no name, just ashes where secrets used to be.
The Obsidian Organization used her to cut through the filth of the world. She was their best.
But even they began to fear her.
Because Max wasn't just a tool.
She was watching. Learning. Knowing too much.
A weapon with a conscience.
And the thing about perfect blades?
They don't always stay sheathed.
At twenty-eight, Max sat across from her handler Commander Varell, stone-faced behind mirrored office glass and said what no agent was allowed to say:
"I want out"
Varell didn't blink.
"You know too much."
"I'm not asking."
"There's only one way to retire from us."
Then he slid a red dossier across the glass table.
Final mission.
Plant a bomb in a traitor's mansion. Clean it all up. Walk away.
Max took it.
But she already knew.
It wasn't an exit.
It was an execution.