The next morning, the envelope was waiting. Same cream paper, same elegant handwriting but this one felt heavier when I picked it up, as though whatever was inside carried more than just paper. I slid it into my bag, careful not to crease the edges, and tried to focus on the spreadsheets glowing on my monitor. Numbers blurred together. My mind kept circling back to Sebastian's instructions.
Do not open it. Do not lose it. Do not ask questions. Every rule begged to be broken, and that was the problem. By mid-morning, the phone on my desk rang once no more. The signal.
I took the elevator up. This time, the receptionist on his floor barely looked at me, which told me she'd been expecting me. Sebastian's door was open, and he was standing at the window, one hand in his pocket, the other resting lightly on the glass as if feeling for the pulse of the city beyond.
He turned when I entered. "You're on time."I wasn't aware it was optional."
His eyes narrowed, but there was the faintest glint of amusement. "Good. Keep that habit.He gestured to the chair across from his desk. I sat, setting the envelope on the polished surface between us. "You know where you're going?" he asked.
I shook my head.
He slid a folded card toward me. On it: an address I didn't recognize, written in his sharp, deliberate script.
You'll take it there. Hand it only to Marcus Hale. No one else. If he's not there, you wait. And Alexis…" His voice dipped, deliberate. "If anyone asks what you're carrying, you tell them it's personal correspondence from me. And you say it like you mean it.I tucked the card into my bag beside the envelope. "Who is Marcus Hale?"
"You'll find out. Not an answer. But that was Sebastian. Every word measured, every silence intentional. Before I could stand, he added, "You've been here two months. You work hard. You're smart. But trust is earned slowly with me."
"Is this a test?He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Everything's a test.
The ride out of the city took longer than I expected. The driver didn't speak, and I didn't try to make conversation. Instead, I studied the card in my hand. Marcus Hale. The name scratched at something in the back of my mind, a faint memory that refused to sharpen. We passed from glass-and-steel downtown into older streets, where buildings leaned into each other like tired men at the end of a long shift. The air grew colder, the light thinner.
When the car finally stopped, it was in front of a building that looked like it had been plucked from another time red brick, faded shutters, a black door with no number. I hesitated before getting out. Something about the place felt… watched. The driver pulled away as soon as my feet hit the pavement.
Inside, the hallway smelled faintly of paper and dust, the kind that clings to places no one bothers to renovate. A single bulb flickered overhead. I followed the narrow corridor to a closed door and knocked twice.
It opened to reveal a man whose face I hadn't seen in years. Alexis?" His voice was half-surprise, half-suspicion. Marcus
He leaned against the frame, studying me. "Didn't expect to see you here. I didn't expect to be here. "Who sent you? I held up the envelope. "Sebastian Steele."
The name made his jaw tighten. He stepped back. "Come in.
The room was small but crammed with filing cabinets, papers, and the hum of an old heater. Marcus moved like a man who knew exactly where every file belonged, even if to me it looked like chaos. "You didn't open it?" he asked, nodding at the envelope in my hand. "No."Good. You don't want to know what's inside."Then why do you?"
His gaze sharpened. "Because it's my life there. And maybe yours, too."
I frowned. "You know Sebastian?
"Well enough to stay out of his debt. Surprised he didn't warn you."Warn me about what?"
Marcus took the envelope, but didn't open it right away. He walked to the desk, placed it carefully in the center, and said, "Sebastian doesn't send people without a reason. If you're here, you're already deeper than you think.I crossed my arms. "And you're just going to tell me this without explaining?"
He smiled faintly. "Explaining takes time. And you don't have much."
Something in his tone made the hairs on my neck rise.
I glanced at the door. "Why?"
He didn't answer, just looked toward the narrow window. Outside, the same black car that had dropped me off was idling across the street. Except this time, there were two men in the front seats, and one of them was watching the window.
"Because," Marcus said quietly, "they didn't just send you. They followed you."