The announcement came at dawn.
Every recruit had known it was coming, whispered about it in the dorms, dreaded it like the executioner's axe. The Red Test. The point of no return.
When the instructors called my name, they handed me a sealed folder. Inside was a single page. A photo.
Hunter Perry.
A former CIA operative. A man who had turned his back on his country, gone rogue, and was now brokering pieces of the Intersect to whoever would pay the most. China, Russia, hostile groups. It didn't matter. He was selling the future of U.S. intelligence like it was spare parts.
The order was clear: terminate him.
I sat on the edge of my bunk, staring at the photo. Not faceless, not meaningless. This was a man who had chosen betrayal. A man who would have burned the world if it made him rich.
"If he lives," I whispered to myself, "the Intersect falls into enemy hands. If he dies… maybe the world stays safer a little longer."
It wasn't about me. It was about the choice he'd already made.
That was what steadied me.
Two hours earlier.
The instructors had gathered us in separate rooms to deliver assignments. That's when I saw Sarah. She was across the hall, folder clutched tight in her hands, her jaw locked, her face pale in a way I'd never seen before.
Our eyes met for just a moment. She looked away almost instantly.
And I knew.
I knew before she opened that file, before she stepped into the kill house. I knew because I'd already seen her story once before, on a screen in another life.
Evelyn Shaw.
Not a traitor. Not a soldier. Not an enemy combatant. Just a civilian. A wife. An innocent marked for death, not because she deserved it, but because the Agency wanted to see if Sarah Walker could pull the trigger when ordered.
Her Red Test.
And there was nothing I could do to stop it.
They staged it in an empty warehouse. Evelyn sat tied to a chair, trembling, confused, begging with her eyes.
"Please," she whispered, voice cracking. "I don't know what this is. I don't know who you are. Please, I have a family—"
Sarah stood over her, pistol in hand, her breathing sharp and shallow.
The instructors watched behind the glass. Their voices were cold through her earpiece.
"Walker. Complete the assignment."
Her eyes closed for the briefest second. Then she exhaled.
The pistol rose.
One shot.
Evelyn Shaw slumped forward, lifeless.
The silence was deafening.
Sarah holstered her weapon, her face a perfect mask of calm. The instructors marked her file. "Target neutralized. Walker passes."
But I knew better. Behind that mask, something inside her had cracked. Something that would haunt her for the rest of her life.
Two hours later, it was my turn.
The warehouse was darker this time. Colder. Hunter Perry stood at the center, pistol tucked into his belt, a sneer on his face as we approached.
"You don't understand," he spat. "The Intersect doesn't belong to the CIA. It doesn't belong to anyone. With the right buyer, I could change the world."
Sarah covered the flank, her weapon steady. My pistol was already drawn, aimed, my breathing slow.
"You're right about one thing," I said quietly. "The Intersect doesn't belong to you."
His hand twitched for his weapon.
Bang.
The shot echoed off the steel walls. Perry crumpled to the floor, dead before he hit the ground.
For a long moment, the air was still. My pistol stayed raised until I was sure. Then I lowered it, exhaling slowly.
Hunter Perry was gone. The Intersect was safe. My Red Test was complete.
Sarah's eyes were on me, unreadable. Not judgmental, not pitying — just watching. Measuring.
"First time's always the hardest," she said softly.
I holstered my weapon. My voice was steady. "It wasn't about me. It was about what he was going to do. That's what made it easy."
The instructors stepped from the shadows, clipboards in hand. "Target neutralized. Bartowski passes."
Two recruits. Two kills. Two new agents.
But the difference between us was a canyon. I had killed a traitor, a man who would've sold the Intersect to enemies. Sarah had killed an innocent woman whose only crime was being chosen as a test.
We had both crossed the line. But hers left a scar that mine never would.
And as we walked out of the warehouse side by side, I knew something no one else here did:
The ghosts were already following Sarah Walker.
And I would carry mine so she never had to carry hers alone.