Page 118 of The Secretary Volume II

She doesn’t come over.She watches me for a second too long, then looks away.

Good.I don’t need another distraction right now.

She leaves.I don’t.

The coffee here is bitter.I like it that way.No surprises.

I reach for the cup, and that’s when I see it—a speck of dried blood beneath my thumbnail.

I scratch it away with my other hand.Watch the flake disappear into the grain of the napkin.

It takes a second for my brain to catch up.

For the moment to reassemble itself.

And then I remember.

Not all of it.Just pieces.Sharp ones.

The silence of Andra’s townhouse.

The way she opened the door like she expected someone else.

How she said my name without meaning to—like it escaped.Like a reflex.

She was barefoot.That surprised me.I don’t know why that’s the detail that stuck.Maybe because it made her seem smaller.Softer.More human.

She asked if I was there to talk.

I said no.

She didn’t run.That part didn’t surprise me.

Women like Andra don’t run.

They negotiate.

She offered tea.I said nothing.

The kitchen was dim.She appeared to be a fan of candles, rather dangerous for someone with as many enemies as she’s bound to have, but what do I know?There was one stool slightly out of place, like someone else had been there recently.She motioned toward it.I sat.

She stood.

I waited.

And when she turned her back—when she reached for the kettle?—

That’s when I moved.

The first strike wasn’t meant to knock her out.Just down.

Blunt object.Heavy.Ceramic.It cracked against the side of her face before I felt it in my hand.

She went down hard.

Not unconscious.Just stunned.

She made a sound I’ll remember—not a scream, but a breath.Like disbelief trying to find its voice.