The Last Night Shift

Mara typed furiously, her fingers dancing across the keyboard as she copied the last of the files. Three years as a corporate spy for a rival firm, and tonight was the final extraction. The office was dead silent at 2 AM—just her and the fluorescent hum of overhead lights that made everyone look like a zombie by morning.

Her phone buzzed. Jason.

*"You coming over? I've got wine and that terrible zombie movie you love."*

Mara's chest tightened. She should tell him the truth—that she'd been paid to infiltrate his company, that the promotion he'd lost last quarter was because of her report, that their relationship was built on a foundation of lies. But the words died in her throat every time.

*"Soon,"* she typed back. *"Just finishing up."*

The external hard drive blinked. 98% complete. She'd been carrying this burden like a grizzly bear on her shoulders for months now, the weight of it crushing her slowly. Jason was kind. He made her laugh. He remembered how she took her coffee. And she was stealing his company's intellectual property right under his nose.

The ethernet cable connecting her to the server room hummed with data—trade secrets, client lists, the upcoming product launch that would make or break Q4. She was the monster in this story, not the undead on screen.

100%. Complete.

Mara pulled the drive and slid it into her pocket. Her reflection in the darkened monitor showed a woman she barely recognized—hollow eyes, tight mouth, someone who'd sold her soul for a paycheck.

She could still fix this. She could destroy the drive. She could tell Jason everything and pray he'd understand.

Instead, she grabbed her bag and walked toward the elevator, another secret swallowed whole, another night in the life of someone who'd forgotten how to be real a long time ago. The automatic doors parted like jaws waiting to consume her, and Mara stepped through into the dark, alone with the consequences of her own making.