Page 60 of 912321

My fingers linger on it for a second as I try not to think about the weekend. Not now.

My bag is waiting by the door when I turn around, but I barely make two steps before Blue circles my legs. I crouch down, smiling. “You’re going to be good, right?”

He blinks in response, and a laugh slips out of me. I press a kiss to his nose and grab my bag.

“I’ll be back soon, love you.”

I step in the hallway, and see Hayzel leaning against the wall with a smile.

For a moment I mirror it, trying to push everything away. The classes, the exhaustion, the pretending, all of it. I keep moving because there’s someone waiting for me at the end of this. And I’d do anything to make sure he never has to go through this.

All for firefly.

28

Damien

Play - Anchor by Novo Amor

Win or lose?

She doesn’t look at me when she walks in.

Interesting… That’s new.

It's a strange feeling, to know she’s there before my eyes even see her. The room changes when she enters, not to anyone else, but apparently, for me it does. Enough that my focus fractures for half a second. I keep my expression calm as I continue writing on the board.

I’m trying not to think… Except now I'm overthinking because she sits down without her usual glance up, her shoulders tight, her attention fixed somewhere too far inward to be listening.

I clear my throat, turning back to the class, and wait until everyone is seated before I start.

“Every agent in this building has lied to survive, some to criminals, some to victims, and some to themselves.” I can see them all being confused, so I continue, “The problem isn’t lying. The problem is lying badly.”

A few students try to read and understand what I wrote at the beginning on the board.

“Out there, you don’t get multiple choices. You get one chance to read someone correctly.” I pace once in front of them. “Today is about controlled deception. Mine.”

A few brows lift and a hand rises in the front row, “Sir, you’re going to lie to us?”

“Yes. One by one,” I say. “You’ll sit in front of me. I’ll give you three statements, two are true, and one is a lie.”

“And what do we have to do?” Someone else asks.

“You’ll have to tell me which one is false and also why I lied the way I did,” I reply as I pull a chair forward and sit. “Who’s first?”

The first student sits, nervous and overthinking everything I say. He guesses wrong, and so does the next, and the next. They focus on my tone, on likelihood, on what sounds believable and what sounds too extreme.

Then it’s her turn. Miss Vitelli walks up without hesitation and sits across from me. I watch her closely as she adjusts her posture, sitting in the chair.

I give her the same statements I’ve given everyone else. “I speak three languages. I’ve been undercover before. And I was the top student in my graduating class.”

She watches, but she’s not focused anywhere near my face, she’s moving her fingers one by one, checking the timing, the pauses, or the way my hand settles against the chair arm.

“Repeat the first one,” she says.

A few students murmur and I raise a brow, slightly stunned by her question. “You don’t get to redirect the exercise.”

“I’m not,” she replies calmly. “I’m asking you to repeat the same thing.”