Sunday's Last Point

Elena wiped her palm against her shorts, leaving a dark streak of sweat on the fabric. The padel court shimmered in the late afternoon heat, glass walls reflecting a sky bruised purple by approaching sunset.

"You're playing like shit today," Marcus said, grinning as he retrieved the ball from the fence. "Something on your mind?"

If he only knew.

"Work," she said, which wasn't exactly a lie.

They'd been friends for three years, since she'd transferred to the Madrid office. Marcus had taken her under his wing—showed her the best tapas places, taught her padel, introduced her to his wife. He held out his hand for a high-five. Elena slapped her palm against his, feeling the familiar warmth. But today, the gesture made her stomach turn.

She'd received the assignment that morning: gather intelligence on Marcus's renewable energy project. Her company planned to undermine his bid on the government contract. It was business, nothing personal. That's what her handler had said.

"Spinach again?" Marcus groaned as they sat at the clubhouse restaurant. "You order this salad every time."

"It's good," she said mechanically, pushing the leaves around her plate.

Marcus leaned in, his expression softening. "Hey, seriously—is everything okay? You seem somewhere else."

Elena studied him across the table, the way his brow furrowed with genuine concern. This was why the job chewed through people—the impossible intimacy required to destroy someone who trusted you.

The package Marcus handed her in the parking lot bore the company logo—a government contract proposal he wanted her to review, seeking her expertise. Her palms began to sweat again. The spy assignment had suddenly become something more complex than business as usual.

She could complete the mission and preserve her career. Or she could be the friend Marcus deserved.

"I need you to promise me something," she said.

Marcus raised an eyebrow.

Her pager buzzed—a reminder from HQ requesting the intelligence. She powered it off without looking.

"What?"

"I have the contract on me and I have two conflicting instructions for it."

"And they are?"

"Share it with your rival company, or share it with someone who can actually help you."

She extended her palm toward him, the proposal still sealed.

"Where I place this decides everything."