Abby Winters Mya «TRUSTED • Method»

“This one’s free.” Mya leaned forward, and Abby caught a whiff of something clean and sharp—rainwater and cedar. “The shipment isn’t weapons, Abby. It never was.”

Now, this. A face-to-face in a place with too many windows and only one exit. abby winters mya

Abby stared at the napkin. Then at Mya. A thousand questions fought for space in her head. Why now? Why me? Can I trust you? “This one’s free

“Then we’ll die together,” Mya finished, her sea-storm eyes unblinking. “Which is more honest than most partnerships, don’t you think?” A face-to-face in a place with too many

The air left the room. Prague. A safehouse fire. A partner she still saw in nightmares. “You’re lying.”

Abby pushed the door open, a small bell jingling a tinny alarm. She slid into the booth across from Mya. The air smelled of burnt espresso and old wood.

“I’m the one who wiped them,” Mya said softly. “I was the asset. Before I burned my own handler. I’ve been running from them ever since.” She tapped the napkin. “The location is the old Ferris wheel on the pier. Midnight. They think the height provides a clean signal. And I’m giving you the access codes because I can’t stop them alone.”