Whiskey and Wiretaps

The lightning illuminated the Baghdad hotel room in stroboscopic bursts, each flash revealing another layer of Elena's betrayal. The corporate spy database I'd spent six months infiltrating lay open on her laptop, and she was downloading everything to a competitor's server.

"You were my best friend," I said, voice flat. The cat—her cat, Bast—wound between my legs, purring, utterly oblivious to the destruction happening in this room. I'd pet-sat that damn cat for three weeks when Elena's mother died. We'd cried together over whiskey at her funeral.

"It's just business, Sarah." Elena didn't look up from the screen. "They offered double what your company pays. I have student loans, a mortgage—"

"So you sell me out."

"I didn't know you'd be the one handling the account." She finally met my eyes, and the lightning flashed again, catching the sheen of tears. "If it's any consolation, I hesitated."

Hesitated. The word hung between us, ridiculous and inadequate.

"You hesitated," I repeated. "That's supposed to make it better?"

Outside, thunder rattled the window. The power flickered. Elena's laptop beeped—transfer complete.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"Sorry doesn't fix careers. Sorry doesn't explain why you spent months gathering my trust, my secrets, my fucking vulnerabilities, just to dismantle everything I've worked for."

"I'll delete it," she said suddenly. "I can say the transfer failed."

"And they'll send someone else. Or worse, they'll know I know and come after both of us." I ran a hand through my hair. "God, Elena. You're not even a good spy."

The truth was, I didn't care about the job. I'd recover. But the friendship—that eight-year foundation of shared trauma, celebratory drinks, late-night phone calls—was gone. Replaced by this calculated, mercenary betrayal.

"Get out," I said.

"Sarah—"

"Take the cat. Get out."

She gathered Bast into her carrier, the animal mewing in protest. At the door, she paused. "I really am sorry."

"Sorry doesn't mean anything anymore."

When the door clicked shut, I poured myself a drink and watched the lightning illuminate the empty room, trying to remember what it felt like to trust someone completely.