Two rival agents. One mission to stop a global catastrophe. Trust isn’t an option.
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Hey there,
Until I have new books to share, I’ll be sending a newsletter on the first Tuesday of the month and I’l be sharing a chapter from one of my existing books. If you haven’t read it yet, you’ll be in for a treat!
See you next month,
Sam
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Chapter 1: Countdown to Crisis
Jack Jones moved quickly through the concrete corridors beneath the launch facility, his every step shadowed by the rhythmic blare of alarms echoing down the dim hallways. The missile countdown had begun, and he only had minutes to disable the warhead buried somewhere below ground in this web of tunnels. His handler’s voice crackled through his earpiece.
“Jack, we’re running out of time,” Director Gene Farrow’s tone was calm but edged with urgency. “If the missile launches, it’s an international crisis.”
“Almost there.” Jack’s voice was as steady as his hands, though every nerve hummed with the weight of his mission. He rounded a corner, pressing his back to the damp wall as he scanned the corridor ahead. The missile room was close—too close to mess up now.
A door marked RESTRICTED ACCESS loomed at the end of the corridor. Jack’s heartbeat ticked up as he hacked the entry panel, watching the red light blink as his device worked to override security. In seconds, the door slid open with a hiss, and he slipped inside, ducking behind a row of control panels.
The missile sat in the center of the room, a chilling figure cast in cold steel. Clusters of wires and sensors around its base broke its sleek lines only. Jack pulled out his tools and knelt beside the device, forcing himself to focus past the heat and sweat running into his eyes.
“Jack, we’re down to two minutes. Are you in?” Farrow’s voice sounded again, the calm unraveling.
“Working on it,” Jack muttered, tearing open the missile’s control panel. Inside, wires lay in a twisted snarl, their vibrant colors taunting him with deadly options. One wrong choice, and the missile would launch, taking half of London with it.
He held his breath, blinking away sweat. Come on, Jones. Focus.
Finally, he found the wire he hoped was the one. With a deep breath, he cut it.
The timer’s relentless beeping fell silent, the last seconds frozen in a quiet, unblinking red. Jack exhaled slowly, calm flooding him. “Bomb’s neutralized. Missile’s dead.”
“You’re clear to evacuate,” Farrow said. “Extraction’s waiting at the east exit. Move now.”
Jack turned to leave, adrenaline giving way to relief—until he heard footsteps echoing down the corridor. Not just one set—multiple.
Two guards in tactical gear rounded the corner, weapons already raised. Jack dropped low as a hail of bullets shattered the silence. He rolled across the concrete, firing two shots that both hit their marks. The guards slumped to the floor, and Jack rose, ready to sprint for the staircase.
But before he reached it, a third figure blocked his path—a woman with red hair and striking green eyes, her pistol aimed squarely at his chest.
“Agent Jones.” Her voice sliced through the tense silence, sharp and precise.
Jack’s eyes narrowed. “Can’t say I recognize you. Or is this one of those anonymous favors?”
Her expression remained ice-cold. “Agent Jack Jones, American. NESA. This facility is under EISA’s protection. You’re interfering in a classified European operation.”
Jack’s jaw tightened. “Noted. But I’m here under NESA orders, not for diplomacy.”
Her eyes flickered with impatience. “You’ve already tripped three of our sensors, Jones. I’m here to contain this breach before it reaches Isaac’s syndicate. Cooperate, or your interference becomes a risk we’ll need to… mitigate.”
“Cooperate?” Jack flashed a dry smile, his hand inching toward his weapon. “EISA doesn’t have the clearance. Or the authority.”
Her gaze hardened, voice dropping a notch colder. “Your director will be hearing from mine. Step back. EISA has jurisdiction here, and I’ll finish what you started.”
Jack’s stance remained locked, neither of them willing to yield. The air between them buzzed with distrust, two agents as immovable as the steel missile looming behind them.
In a blur, she closed the distance, twisting his arm and forcing him against the wall. His gun clattered to the floor as he clenched his teeth against the pain radiating up his arm.
“Still want an introduction?” she asked, her face mere inches from his. “Name’s Irina Stepanov. And I’m your worst nightmare if you don’t get out of my way.”
Jack grunted, twisting out of her grip and stepping back, his stance solid. Irina’s pistol was again trained on his chest, her gaze a cold warning.
“You think you can intimidate me?” Jack’s voice was low, daring. “I’ve met people with plenty of scary names, and most of them are dead.”
She arched a brow. “Let me guess—you’re the one who killed them?”
Jack gave her a mocking salute. “Right on.”
Irina’s lips tightened as she moved to circle him, each step calculated. Jack mirrored her movements, his eyes never leaving hers, the tension between them like a live wire.
Finally, she broke the silence. “Take the east exit. My team has control of the facility now. Whatever intel you collected is irrelevant.”
“Is that so?” Jack let his hand drift to his backup pistol. “I thought EISA and NESA were on the same side.”
She scoffed, tone clipped. “This mission was EISA’s alone. If your director forgot to brief you, it’s not my problem.”
Farrow’s voice buzzed faintly in Jack’s ear, but he tuned it out, keeping his focus on Irina. “Who’s running this operation? Isaac?”
For the first time, her confidence flickered, but she quickly masked it, her expression hardening. “I don’t answer to you, Jones. Leave now, and there doesn’t have to be any bloodshed.”
His grip tightened on his pistol as he measured his options, every instinct screaming that there was more to this woman than she let on. But before he could respond, footsteps echoed from the corridor behind him. Jack turned, glimpsing three more figures moving toward them.
“Friends of yours?” he asked, turning back to Irina—but she was already moving, slipping past him with practiced agility, vanishing into the shadows.
Jack gritted his teeth. He’d lost too much time already. Without another glance back, he sprinted toward the east exit, his footsteps echoing through the cold, dark tunnels.
He emerged into the open air as helicopter blades sliced through the night sky. Farrow’s voice crackled in his ear, “Jones, what happened in there? You were radio silent.”
Jack looked back at the facility, where the last shadows of Irina and her team disappeared into the darkness. “Just a little… international cooperation.”
“Get in the chopper. We’ve got a debrief waiting.” Farrow’s tone was clipped, but Jack knew he’d have questions.
“Copy that,” Jack replied, climbing into the helicopter as it ascended.
As the city lights dwindled below, his mind lingered on the woman who’d appeared out of nowhere. EISA, Russian, sharp, and dangerous—Irina Stepanov.
And he had a feeling this wouldn’t be the last time they crossed paths.
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