Page 8 of Please Open Me
“I’m not doing this with you,” she warned, raking an exasperated hand through her thinning black hair.
“Aww, but Momma, I love talking to you.” I jutted my lower lip into a mock pout.
Her eyes stayed dead and flat. I knew she lacked the capacity to love me, and Iwishedshe would at least learn to fake it. That’s what I did with most people.
“I’m sending over the case files for the Sons of Christ cult,” she said, folding her hands. “I’ll also highlight the differences between Mason and the women they usually target. By the end of the day, you either need to send me an email acknowledging you accept the case or outlining your plan for proving Sebastian’s innocence.”
I parted my lips to challenge her—to ask what she’d do if I said no. If she sent agents after me, they’d die. If she came after Sebby... Well, I wasn’t going to let anyone hurtmynew pet.
Hunting me, or anyone I loved, was a waste of resources and, inevitably, a colossal mess.
But before I could say any of that, Momma’s face vanished, replaced by the S.H.A.D.E. logo: a shield wrapped in a snake.
I tipped my head back and groaned. This wasnothow I wanted to spend my day.
As promised, an email popped up. Begrudgingly, I clicked it.
The file opened in a secure browser, and I almost rolled my eyes at the absurd level of redaction.
Like yeah, this was way below my pay grade, but leaving a name uncensored wouldn’t kill anyone.
I scrolled past the fluff—the lower-level mission briefing, the procedures, the expected timeline, and the guilt-trippy reminder that withholding information could result in federal charges and/or termination.
Cute.
I’d probably do well in prison, so I wasn’t scared.
Then I hit the victim profile.
Primary Targets:
Female, ages 18–26
Dark hair
Thin build
Little to no higher education
No family
