The Agent in the Dark

The Agent in the Dark

Gavin

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My sister, Lily, was dying. Leukemia, rare and aggressive. Only an experimental bone marrow transplant could save her, costing seventy-five thousand dollars. Insurance called it "experimental," so they wouldn't cover it. I worked double shifts at the grimy diner, counting every dollar of my meager tips. It was never enough for Lily. Then Jess, my flashy old high school friend, showed up. She had an "unconventional" job, she said, with "huge pay." A vigil for a dying man, Adam Blackwood, a wealthy recluse in rural Louisiana. They needed a "pure-hearted young woman," a virgin, to perform "comforting rites" for his soul's passage. And a "discreet examination" afterwards, to confirm my "commitment." One hundred thousand dollars. More than enough for Lily. Despite a creeping unease, Lily's pale face flashed in my mind. I took the thirty thousand upfront, let Jess drive me to the massive, gothic plantation. Mr. Blackwood was cold, Mrs. Blackwood tearfully obsessed with my "purity." They immediately took my phone, locking me alone in a dimly lit room with "Adam." He lay still, impossibly sedated, his breathing shallow, his pupils constricted pinpoints. He wasn't dying naturally. He was being drugged. The chilling truth slammed into me: this wasn't a ritual. The "pure-hearted" vigil? A calculated farce. "Adam" wasn't dying of illness; he was being systematically poisoned. And he wasn't Adam Blackwood at all. He was Ben Carter, an FBI agent, deep undercover in an antiquities smuggling ring. I was the perfect scapegoat, framed to take the fall for his impending "death." Jess, my friend, had sold me out, a willing accomplice in their deadly deception. Trapped, utterly betrayed, and staring down a dangerous criminal conspiracy, Lily's money no longer mattered. Now, it was about survival. I had to save Ben, expose the Blackwoods, and fight my way out of a nightmare.

Introduction

My sister, Lily, was dying.

Leukemia, rare and aggressive.

Only an experimental bone marrow transplant could save her, costing seventy-five thousand dollars.

Insurance called it "experimental," so they wouldn't cover it.

I worked double shifts at the grimy diner, counting every dollar of my meager tips.

It was never enough for Lily.

Then Jess, my flashy old high school friend, showed up.

She had an "unconventional" job, she said, with "huge pay."

A vigil for a dying man, Adam Blackwood, a wealthy recluse in rural Louisiana.

They needed a "pure-hearted young woman," a virgin, to perform "comforting rites" for his soul's passage.

And a "discreet examination" afterwards, to confirm my "commitment."

One hundred thousand dollars. More than enough for Lily.

Despite a creeping unease, Lily's pale face flashed in my mind.

I took the thirty thousand upfront, let Jess drive me to the massive, gothic plantation.

Mr. Blackwood was cold, Mrs. Blackwood tearfully obsessed with my "purity."

They immediately took my phone, locking me alone in a dimly lit room with "Adam."

He lay still, impossibly sedated, his breathing shallow, his pupils constricted pinpoints.

He wasn't dying naturally. He was being drugged.

The chilling truth slammed into me: this wasn't a ritual.

The "pure-hearted" vigil? A calculated farce.

"Adam" wasn't dying of illness; he was being systematically poisoned.

And he wasn't Adam Blackwood at all.

He was Ben Carter, an FBI agent, deep undercover in an antiquities smuggling ring.

I was the perfect scapegoat, framed to take the fall for his impending "death."

Jess, my friend, had sold me out, a willing accomplice in their deadly deception.

Trapped, utterly betrayed, and staring down a dangerous criminal conspiracy, Lily's money no longer mattered.

Now, it was about survival.

I had to save Ben, expose the Blackwoods, and fight my way out of a nightmare.

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My world revolved around Jax Harding, my older brother's captivating rockstar friend. From sixteen, I adored him; at eighteen, I clung to his casual promise: "When you're 22, maybe I'll settle down." That offhand comment became my life's beacon, guiding every choice, meticulously planning my twenty-second birthday as our destiny. But on that pivotal day in a Lower East Side bar, clutching my gift, my dream exploded. I overheard Jax' s cold voice: "Can't believe Savvy's showing up. She' s still hung up on that stupid thing I said." Then the crushing plot: "We' re gonna tell Savvy I' m engaged to Chloe, maybe even hint she' s pregnant. That should scare her off." My gift, my future, slipped from my numb fingers. I fled into the cold New York rain, devastated by betrayal. Later, Jax introduced Chloe as his "fiancée" while his bandmates mocked my "adorable crush"-he did nothing. As an art installation fell, he saved Chloe, abandoning me to severe injury. In the hospital, he came for "damage control," then shockingly shoved me into a fountain, leaving me to bleed, calling me a "jealous psycho." How could the man I loved, who once saved me, become this cruel and publicly humiliate me? Why was my devotion seen as an annoyance to be brutally extinguished with lies and assault? Was I just a problem, my loyalty met with hatred? I would not be his victim. Injured and betrayed, I made an unshakeable vow: I was done. I blocked his number and everyone connected to him, severing ties. This was not an escape; this was my rebirth. Florence awaited, a new life on my terms, unburdened by broken promises.

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