I dragged myself through the lobby, my reflection in the polished marble showing exactly how rough I looked. The security guard - Dragan, always had a crossword puzzle on his desk - glanced up and winced.

  "Rough night?" His wince said more than words could.

  "You should see the other guys." I tried to smile, immediately regretted it as my split lip protested. "Actually, you probably will—on the morning news. But just to be clear, none of it is my doing.""

  The elevator doors slid open with a soft ding that somehow managed to pierce straight through my skull. Inside, I leaned against the cool metal wall, letting it soothe the bruise on the back of my head. The digital display ticked up floor by floor, each number bringing me closer to what promised to be an interesting morning.

  Jovan better have something solid on that BMW. Professional hit teams don't usually leave much of a trail, but the plates might give us something to work with. Even a dead end could reveal valuable information—such as which organizations possessed the resources to recruit the hooligans for the attack and then professionally dispose of them.

  The thought of facing Goran made my stomach clench. He'd warned me against going solo, and now I had a dead undercover cop and a bar full of corpses to show for my brilliant detective work. The fact that I'd stumbled onto something bigger - something that warranted professional cleaners - might justify the risk, but I doubted he'd see it that way.

  Maybe I'd get lucky and he'd be stuck in morning traffic. It was early enough that I might have an hour or two to piece together what we knew before-

  The elevator chimed again, doors opening onto our floor. Through the glass walls of the office, I could see Goran's coat already hanging on the rack by his desk.

  "Fantastic," I said, stepping out. Each footstep echoed slightly in the empty corridor, like a countdown to the inevitable confrontation. At least I had some concrete intel to share - the files had definitely been compromised, we knew who did the hack, and we had confirmation that someone with serious resources was pulling the strings.

  I reached for the door handle, then paused. Through the glass, I could see Goran on the phone, his back turned to me. His posture was rigid, shoulders tense - never a good sign.

  This was going to be one hell of a morning.

  Morning sun felt like needles in my eyes as I limped into the office. Despite the handful of painkillers I'd taken with my coffee, I felt a sting even in the soles of my feet as I walked across the soft carpet. In the mirror I saw that my face looked like an abstract painting, all purple and yellow splotches where the skinheads' boots had connected.

  Ljiljana stood by her desk, a worried frown creasing her forehead as she watched me shuffle past. Her hand flew to her mouth when she got a good look at my face, but before she could say anything, I caught sight of Goran who apparently finished his call.

  He stood in front of his office door like an angry sentinel, arms crossed, jaw clenched so tight I could see the muscles working. His usual impeccable suit seemed at odds with the storm brewing in his eyes.

  "Inside. Now." His voice hissing through his teeth was so quiet that it made me wish for more painkillers.

  I dragged myself toward his office trying to avoid his fiery gaze. As I passed him, the scent of his expensive cologne mixed with the metallic taste of blood still lingering in my mouth.

  The door slammed behind us with enough force to rattle the frosted glass. I didn't need to turn around to know Goran was standing there, probably counting to ten in his head to keep from strangling me.

  "Sit."

  I lowered myself gingerly into one of his leather chairs, trying not to wince. The morning light streaming through his office windows felt too bright, too harsh for the conversation we were about to have.

  "Before you start-" I began.

  "Before I start?" Goran's voice rose sharply. "Before I start what, Aleksandar? Before I start explaining why going alone to meet violent criminals might be a bad idea? Before I start detailing exactly how your reckless solo mission might have destroyed everything we've worked for? Or perhaps before I start explaining how I spent half the night dealing with police, trying to keep the Order from being officially entangled in this debacle?"

  I slumped deeper into the chair, which was a mistake – bending my back for more than 45 degrees was still far from manageable. "To be fair, I wasn't exactly planning on the massacre part. Look, I had to move fast," I shot back. "The trace would've gone cold. Besides, I got something solid-"

  "Something solid?" Goran's voice dripped with sarcasm. "Was it worth Petar's life? "

  "You don't understand, we now know-"

  "What I understand," he cut me off, "is that you had no business going in there alone. We had—" Goran quickly stopped himself and then continued. "You should have waited—"

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  "What I got was worth-" I stopped mid-sentence, Goran's last words finally registering. "Wait. What do you mean I should have waited? What did we have exactly?"

  The change in Goran's expression was subtle - a slight tightening around the eyes, a barely perceptible shift in his stance.

  "You had a bloody intel. You knew." The words tasted bitter in my mouth. "You knew about the hit on the bar."

  "Aleksandar-"

  "No." I pushed myself up from the chair, ignoring the protest from my battered body. "You knew those guys were coming with guns, and you didn't tell me. I could have died in there. That's the information you share if you don't want someone to go…"

  Goran's shoulders dropped slightly. "It was on need to know basis. And I specifically ordered you-"

  "Need to know?" I barked out a laugh pain almost taking my breath away. "Forget about me, but Petar didn't need to know? It seems he would have been killed regardless. He was a cop, Goran. One of ours."

  "He wasn't one of ours," Goran's voice turned steel-cold. ""You're forgetting yourself. He was police. And while regrettable, his death was unavoidable given the circumstances.""

  I stared at him, really seeing him for the first time since I'd entered his office. The perfectly pressed suit, the carefully maintained appearance, the calculated responses - it all felt like a mask now.

  "Unavoidable?" My voice cracked. "They dragged him into a back room and beat him to death because I led them to him. And if I had the information, he wouldn't have been there. He would still be alive!"

  "You shouldn't have been there in the first place." Goran moved behind his desk, creating a barrier between us. "If you had followed my orders-"

  "You want to talk about following orders?" I shot back, my anger overriding the pain. "How about we discuss what happened after those guys with Kalashnikovs showed up? The ones who just happened to know exactly what laptops to grab? Are they one of ours? Did they have an order not to kill me if they find me there?"

  "The hell they weren't ours," Goran spat. "You're breathing right now because of dumb luck, nothing else. That intel was sketchy at best - some half-baked tip from a questionable source."

  "Right," I said, not buying it for a second. Something in his tone, the way his eyes wouldn't quite meet mine - he was holding back. I knew it in my gut.

  Goran's face reddened. "You're acting like a child, Aleksandar! You think you're the only one not keeping secrets? Straight shooter. Instead of calling me I got reports this morning about you asking Jovan in the middle of the night to run plates and background checks without authorization and without telling me. Luckily Jovan is at least a honest person."

  That little snitch couldn't keep quiet for a few hours

  "Because you're not apparently telling me everything!" I slammed my hand on his desk, immediately regretting it as pain shot through my bruised knuckles.

  "Enough!" Goran's voice cracked like thunder. He leaned forward, palms flat on the desk, his face inches from mine. "Let me make this absolutely clear. If you ever - ever - go off script like this again, you're done. Not just fired. Done. Do you understand?"

  I held his gaze, jaw clenched. "Fine."

  "Fine what?"

  "Fine, I understand." The words tasted like ash in my mouth.

  "Now get out of my office."

  I turned and stormed out, feeling everyone's eyes on me as I limped to my desk. Milenko who arrived just in time to watch the show quickly looked away, suddenly very interested in his monitor. Ljiljana pretended to be absorbed in some potpourri in a bowl, but I could feel her concerned glances.

  Dropping into my chair, I winced at the fresh wave of pain. Stinking sun streaming through every single window in the open space office felt too bright, too cheerful for my mood. I closed my eyes, trying to piece everything together.

  The attack on the archives. The convenient evidence pointing to the United Force. The professional hit team that showed up just in time to clean house. Goran knowing about the hit but keeping me in the dark.

  None of it added up. Or maybe it added up too perfectly.

  The whole thing stank of a setup. But why? What was in those files that was worth killing for? And why did Goran seem more concerned about keeping me away from the investigation than about the actual breach?

  My head throbbed. I needed coffee, more painkillers, and time to think. But mostly, I needed answers. Real ones, not the carefully crafted narrative I was being fed.

  I opened my eyes and caught Ljiljana watching me with that knowing look of hers. She quickly glanced away, but not before I saw something in her expression - concern? Fear? Whatever it was, it confirmed my suspicion that there was more going on here than anyone was willing to tell me.

  Fine, I thought, echoing my earlier response to Goran. If they wanted to play it this way, I could play too. But this time, I'd be smarter about it. No more rushing in half-cocked. No more giving away my hand.

  I needed to keep myself occupied or at least kill time until Jovan arrived at the office. I stared at my monitor, the company's blue-gray logo on the default desktop background mocking me as I failed to type a single word into my report. The events from last night and this morning's confrontation kept replaying in my head, each loop making my blood pressure rise another notch.

  Through the corner of my eye, I caught Goran's movement in his office. He stood by his window, feigning interest in the view outside while covertly glaring daggers at me. I clenched my jaw, which immediately reminded me of all the places I'd been hit last night.

  "Screw this," I scoffed, yanking open my desk drawer. I rummaged through piles of unnecessary files, half-eaten protein bars, office equipment, and,God knows why, a single worn sock. Buried under a stack of old post-its and paper clips lay my last bought pack of cigarettes - a relic from my recent attempt to quit. Three slightly bent cigarettes rattled inside, along with a cheap blue lighter I'd tossed in there 5 months and 17 days ago.

  I rolled the pack between my fingers, feeling the familiar crinkle of cellophane. Five months, seventeen days of willpower about to go up in smoke - literally. I'd made it through Milenko's magical history presentations, tough cases, Corporate Code of Conduct trainings and endless late-night debugging sessions with Jovan without reaching for these. But right now, with my body aching and my trust in Goran shattered, those three bent cigarettes looked like my only friends.

  The old BIC lighter felt cool between my fingers as I pulled it out. It still had some fuel left - I could hear it slosh inside when I shook it. Funny how some things just wait patiently for you to break down and come back to them.

  I pushed back from my desk, the chair wheels squeaking slightly. Ljiljana glanced up, her eyes following me as I limped toward the exit. I silently cursed whoever decided to introduce Europe's trend of banning smoking in offices to Serbia. What happened to the good old days when you needed a knife to cut through the smoke so you can find the door?

  At least I had an excuse to step outside for five minutes. Maybe, just maybe, five minutes alone in front of the building with nicotine for company would help me figure out what the hell was really going on here.