Page 4 of Damián

“One is emotional, and the other one is awesome.” And I mean every word.

My job is awesome.

Even how I met my business partners was beyond epic.

It was almost a year and a half ago, but I can still remember everything that happened as if it were yesterday. That day, I didn’t know the men beside me: Logan, a Delta Force Colonel, his Lieutenant Knox, Björn, and Tae. We were complete strangers. But when the shooting started, we moved as one, taking down the shooters like we’d been teammates for years.

A week later, when Logan tracked us down and pitched the idea of opening a security agency, saying yes was the easiest decision I’ve ever made. I even handed in my resignation to the CIA the next week.

And then, the five of us recruited a hacker, a lawyer, and a rescue specialist. In the end, we were eight partners.

Harknett 8.

Different specialties, equal talent.

BZZT! BZZT!

My phone buzzes on the table, and the screen lights up. I take it and open a text message.

“What is it, mijo?”

“It’s Harry,” I say.

“Harry?” Mom frowns. “I haven’t heard that name since you left the Agency.”

I nod, my thumb already disabling the notification. “And I don’t think he has good news.”

My mom sighs, gets up, and takes my half-eaten plate. “I’ll pack this up for you to take home. You look beyond tired, and it looks like you’ll have a tough day tomorrow.”

“Thanks, Ma.”

— ¤ —

The next day, I walk into Chapters & Crumbs, a half-bakery, half-bookstore that smells just like heaven should: dark roast coffee, vanilla, melting butter, and the dry scent of old paperbacks.

So damn good, I could live here.

The space is split between the world’s best bakery and a dimly lit library. Exposed brick walls hold up floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, creating cozy reading nooks in every corner. This place is our sanctuary, plus there isn’t a single member of Harknett who isn’t obsessed with the pastries here.

I step carefully over Mr. Weasley, the fat ginger tomcat that’s sleeping directly in the doorway.

And that’s the other thing I love about this place: the cats.

There’s Mr. Weasley, by the door. Sarumeown, a pure white demon judging me from the top of the fiction shelf. Dr. Jekyll, whose face is split black and white and is currently shredding a napkin under table four, and Bob, a street cat who decided to make this bakery his vacation home.

I love them… even if they treat us more like subjects than humans.

I close the glass door, and the bell jingles above me. I spot the two usual baristas at the counter: Kai, a fit guy with thick, blue glasses, and Lena, a woman in her late twenties with pink hair and a lovely smile.

I do a quick sweep of the room for Harry, but he’s nowhere to be seen, so I detour to the fantasy display to pick out a book to read while I wait.

And yeah, I love fantasy books with cheesy, romantic plots… sue me.

“He’s mine today,” Kai whispers, thinking I can’t hear him… and okay, at my distance, most people wouldn’t, but come on, Kai, I’m a freaking trained spy. “I haven’t taken his order in three shifts. You had him last Tuesday.”

Lena blocks his path. “Correction: I saved him from your awkward questions last Tuesday.”

“At least I didn’t spill coffee on Björn like you did.”