The Last Assignment

The dog, a golden retriever named Buster, waited by the door as Marcus adjusted his tie in the hallway mirror. At forty-seven, Marcus had spent twenty-three years at Stratfield Capital, moving money and influence like pieces on a chessboard he'd long since stopped caring about.

The surveillance package sat on his desk at home—photographs of his colleague Elena in compromising positions with a competitor. His boss had called it due diligence. Marcus called it what it was: being a spy in his own office.

Buster nudged his hand, and Marcus knelt to scratch behind those silky ears. 'Not today, buddy. Daddy's got to do the right thing for once.'

The corporate bull—his boss, Richard—had demanded Marcus compile dirt on everyone in their division. Marcus had played along, gathering evidence like a good soldier, but something about Elena's situation gnawed at him. She'd covered for him when his marriage collapsed. She'd been the only one to notice when he started showing up drunk after his mother died.

Now, staring at his reflection, Marcus realized he'd spent half a lifetime being someone else's attack dog.

He grabbed the envelope from his briefcase—his resignation letter, along with copies of everything Richard had asked him to collect. Not just Elena's file, but all of it.

'Sorry, Richard,' he muttered. 'No more bull.'

Elena was already at the office when he arrived. She looked up from her desk, that fox-like intelligence in her eyes sharpening as she registered his expression. He dropped the envelope on her desk.

'You're leaving?' she asked, already knowing the answer.

'And taking Richard down with me.' Marcus smiled, genuinely, for the first time in years. 'Care to join me?'

Buster was still waiting by the door when Marcus returned home that evening, unemployed but unburdened. For the first time in decades, he recognized the man in the mirror.