The Last Night in Prague

The pool at the Hotel Imperial was empty at 3 AM, which was exactly why Elena chose it. She'd been swimming laps for an hour, her arms burning, trying to outpace the thoughts racing through her mind. The chlorinated water couldn't wash away what she'd learned earlier that evening.

She'd been hired to spy on Marcus Webber, a defense contractor suspected of selling secrets. But after three weeks of surveillance—tracking his movements, photographing his meetings, sleeping in hotels across Europe—something had shifted. The job had become complicated. She'd started to notice the small things: how he ordered spinach salad every afternoon, the same way her father had. The worn leather of his briefcase. The way his shoulders slumped when he thought no one was watching.

Tonight, following him to Prague, she'd seen something she wasn't supposed to witness: Marcus in an empty conference room, head in his hands, weeping. Not the behavior of a man living large on illicit payments. A man, perhaps, being pressured. A man, maybe, like her brother had been—caught between impossible choices.

The phone in her bag buzzed against the tiles. Her handler. Probably demanding the surveillance photos she'd taken. Probably not interested in the truth.

Elena pulled herself from the pool, water streaming down her body like the decisions she couldn't unmake. In her room, she found her rental's cat—a calico she'd named Bear because of his ferocious appetite—curled on the pillow. He meowed, demanding dinner.

"You and me both," she murmured, setting out food. "You and me both."

She sat on the bed, Marcus's folder open beside her. The photos she'd taken: him entering a building, him meeting contacts, him alone in hotel bars. Evidence of guilt—or evidence of a setup? Her brother had taught her that in their line of work, the truth rarely fit neatly into reports.

Her phone buzzed again. A text: "Send the photos. They're moving on him tonight."

Tonight.

Elena's thumb hovered over the delete key. Bear jumped onto her lap, purring. Outside, Prague slept, unaware of the collision course of two strangers whose lives were about to change forever—depending, entirely, on what she did next.