Page 1

Failure hangs in the air like a dark cloud.

It looms and spreads despair over the entire conference room filled with agents of the FBI’s Organized Crime Unit. The room is silent, every agent deep in thought, wallowing in their own slice of defeat. I’m fairly new to this case but, even without an official statement, I know what’s going on.

Once again, the FBI has failed to bring down the Shadows of Moscow.

Jerome Keller, our Supervisory Special Agent, rises from his seat, his face grim. Finally, the meeting begins.

“A few days ago, we lost contact with one of our agents, Adrian Cooper, who has been working undercover as a low-level member of the Shadows of Moscow, the Russian crime family who have been operating in New York for years.”

He pauses, dropping his gaze to the polished mahogany table. He taps the surface. From my seat, I can see the golden wedding band on his ring finger.

“We made several attempts to reestablish contact, but every one of them failed. It looks like he might have been compromised. At first, we assumed he'd been discovered—that we'd be dealing with ransom demands or a bargaining chip—but none of that came. Just silence."

He looks up, staring at everyone’s face one by one.

"Yesterday, a body washed ashore in New York Harbor. It’s been identified as Agent Adrian Cooper."

A murmur ripples through the room, but Keller raises his hand, cutting it off.

"The cause of death—a single gunshot wound to the head—confirms what we feared. He was executed by the Mafia."

Keller exhales slowly, the weight of his words sinking into the heavy silence.

"He was our only lead, our best chance to dismantle a billion-dollar criminal empire. The last time we spoke, he’d infiltrated deep enough to oversee a major drug shipment. The plan was simple—he’d arrange a meet with the boss, and we’d move in for the takedown."

Keller’s jaw tightens, his voice laced with frustration.

"But now, we’re back to square one."

I lower my gaze to the file spread open in front of me, skimming through the intel we’ve gathered on the Shadows of Moscow. They’re New York’s top suppliers of illegal drugs and weapons—a network as vast as it is elusive. Despite whispers tying their name to countless murders and disappearances, we’ve never been able to make the charges stick. These guys are ghosts. Their name, Shadows, couldn’t be more fitting.

Peter Quinn, one of my former colleagues in the Cybercrime Unit, raises his hand.

“If we managed to get an agent undercover before, why not try it again?”

“These guys aren’t just smart—they’re paranoid,” Jerome says, adjusting his glasses. “It took Adrian years to climb the ranks. They tested his loyalty at every turn. We don’t have that kind of time anymore. And let’s not forget—it didn’t work for Adrian. They’ll be on high alert now. Another undercover attempt would likely end the same way.”

Caleb Holt, another colleague, adjusts his glasses as he pores over the folder in front of him.

“But Adrian didn’t leave us with nothing,” he says, flipping through the file. “During one of his debriefings, he mentioned intercepting a message. It led him to believe that the boss of the Shadows of Moscow sits on the board of trustees at St. Maxwell Hospital.”

“St. Maxwell Hospital? Seriously?” someone blurts out, incredulous.

“Yes,” Jerome confirms with a nod. “I remember hearing about that. Makes sense—it’s probably just a front for his real operations.”

A damn clever one. I shut my folder with a soft snap.

“So, what now?” Caleb asks, looking up. “Our inside man is gone. Is that it? Are we done?”

Silence stretches through the room as all eyes land on Jerome. He stares at the board, as if the answers to Caleb’s question might materialize there.

An idea sparks in my mind. “Not necessarily,” I blurt out.

I raise my gaze, surprised to find twenty pairs of eyes staring at me. Being the lowest-ranking agent on the case, it’s a bit difficult to air my opinion.

“Do you have something you’d like to say, Agent Clarke?” Jerome asks.

I can’t decide whether to air my thoughts or to swallow them.

What if my idea is terrible? I’ll be laughed at. It’s my first time at the big boys’ table. I can’t afford to mess things up.

“Agent Clark?”

My legs move of their own volition, and I rise from my seat.

Crap. I’ll look like an even bigger idiot if I sit down now.

I take a deep breath and meet Jerome’s gaze.

“I think the undercover plan could still work.”

“We just said?—”

“I know what you said,” I cut in as Jerome speaks. “We’re going to take a different approach this time.”

“What do you mean?” Caleb leans forward.

“Well.” I tug at the edges of my file.

“We already know that the boss of the Shadows of Moscow is on the board of trustees of the St Maxwell Hospital. Instead of going undercover in the Mafia gang, why not go closer to the target by infiltrating the hospital?”

A low murmur fills the room as they debate my idea amongst themselves. Soon enough, Jerome speaks up.

“Even if we do that, we’ll be going in blind. Besides, you have to have access to the board of trustees to find out who our target is. How do you intend on getting that?”

I think for a moment.

“We’ll just have to pose as the personal assistant of someone on the board. That way, we might gain access to sensitive files, which could prove fruitful for our investigation.”

The other agents nod in approval.

Jerome pushes back his glasses.

“Alright, I can see that some people are in support of this plan, but it sounds dangerous. I mean, who is going to go undercover after the first person was executed?”

The murmur dies into silence as they all exchange glances. No one is stepping forward.

I don’t blame them. The Shadows of Moscow are dangerous people. Trying to infiltrate their ranks is practically a death sentence.

But it’s a necessary risk, seeing that we have no other leads.

Clenching my jaw, I look up.

“I’ll do it.”

Jerome turns to me.

“Really?”

I nod. “Yes. I’ll get in and find us what we need to bring down the gang.”

“I hope you understand how much of a risk this is. We can’t guarantee your safety.”

“I understand.”

He stays silent for a moment and then nods solemnly.

“Alright then. Meeting adjourned.”

After the meeting, I return to my work desk. I have my eyes glued to the file when a cup of coffee slides onto my desk. I look up to see my colleague, Ryan Dimitri, standing in front of me.

“Thanks.” I pick up the to-go cup and take a sip.

“Caramel latte. Your favorite.”

I smile.

“So, what’s this I hear about you going undercover?” he asks, settling into the chair across from me.

I flick back my long brunette hair, reworking my ponytail before straightening up.

“Yeah.” I sigh. “There’s so much paperwork involved. I’m starting to regret my decision.”

Ryan laughs. “Why would you do that? The Shadows of Moscow aren’t to be trifled with. You have to be extra careful.”

“I know.”

“But seriously,” he presses. “Why would you volunteer for something as dangerous as this?”

“I mean…” I shrug. “Nobody else was stepping up.”

“And it had to be you.”

It’s more of a statement than a question, so I don’t answer. Ryan sighs.

“You’re brave. I couldn’t have done what you did. I want to retire from the FBI in one piece. I need to be alive if I’m going to start my own farm someday.”

I laugh. “Really? A farm”

“Yeah.” He nods seriously. “With little horses and stuff.”

I drop my gaze to the heap of paperwork in front of me.

“How about you? Any plans for when you leave the FBI?”

I stare blankly at the files. I haven’t thought that far ahead. I stopped dreaming about my ideal life a long time ago, so I don’t have an answer to his question.

Smiling, I meet his gaze. “The future will take care of itself.”

Ryan stares thoughtfully. It’s almost as if he can see through the facade that is my smile.

“You know, one day, at some point, you’ll have to pause and think, what do I want in my life? You can’t keep living life as it comes.”

He’s right, I know that, but I don’t have time to think about that right now.

“Thanks for the coffee, Ryan.”

He nods and walks away, leaving me to my tasks.