Agent 7. The Shadows: Part I

▪️◼️Chapter Thirty Two◼️▪️

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ALINA
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"Get down!" Matteo yells at me before using his free hand to shove me down from the bed and onto the floor. With a painful thud I fall at his shoe-clad feet.

Face down on the scratchy carpet, I thrust my arms over my head and slam my eyes shut. Glass shatters in a crackling explosion all around me as a man breaks through the window. I only caught a glimpse from the corner of my eye but he seems to be wearing a suit and tie. Onyx on alabaster. The same attire as Matteo.

Trembling, I curl up into a ball. My fingernails dig into the skin of my arms as I wait for fighting to break out or more gun shots to be fired.

But instead, the room settles to an eerie and uncomfortable quiet.

There are no gunshots, no punches being thrown, no loud thuds or hotel decor being broken. I hear nothing but the distant sounds of the television and the painful, spasming beats of my heart as blood rushes furiously through my veins.

Matteo's dress slacks brush against my side as he steps over me. Subsequently putting himself between me and the intruder. Now that I have a semblance of protection, I army crawl—scraping my bare arms and legs along the floor that smells of mildew and dust—in an attempt to get as far away from the two men as possible.

I make it to the far wall, that separates the bedroom from the living room, before a deep monotone voice cuts through the tension permeating the air. I halt my retreat.

"Agent Seven, your mission has been reassigned, target number two-eight-one-four-four has been assigned to me." The man's robotic voice pauses before continuing his threat. "Move aside or die a traitor."

I gasp.

Does he mean for Matteo to move aside to get to me? He must. My stomach rolls at the thought. That means that The Agency sent him. Matteo even said it himself, The Agency has put a hit on me. The man must be here to collect... and the price is my life.

I lift my gaze to Matteo's daunting form towering in front of me, wishing I could catch his eye, but his back is to me. After last night, I foolishly began to believe that Matteo will protect me. That he may be the first man that I could actually trust. But after this morning—after he told me I was no longer of any use to him, as if I can be discarded like a piece of trash—I now realize that the only person I can trust is myself.

Will he let him kill me?

Matteo's shoulders stiffen at the man's threatening words.

"The agency has made a mistake, she's innocent." Matteo says with power in his voice. My brows raise as relief washes over me. A twinge of hope sparks like a flame within my chest. Hope that at the very least, Matteo won't let me die by another man's hands.

The intruder's facial features don't falter as he speaks. "The Agency doesn't make mistakes."

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MATTEO - AGENT SEVEN
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I study Agent Eleven.

I can read his thoughts like an open book. His expressions—although minuscule—are too transparent.

His first mistake is the way his eyes continually flick to Alina on the floor behind me. Each time it's over my right shoulder, divulging to me that that's the direction he plans to aim when he shoots. His second mistake is the way his fingers twitch at his right side, giving away his dominate hand. His third mistake is that he's standing with his feet shoulder width apart. His left foot is slightly in front of his right, conveying to me that he plans to pull his gun from his left hip holster—which lies out of sight beneath his suit jacket.