CHAPTER THREE: BABYSITTING DUTY

If Nasir thought the party was being thrown for him, he realized his mistake the second alcohol hit the table. The agency just needed an excuse to let their hair down—it was never really about him.

“...So Sheryl was like: ‘Boy, that’s not how you shoot!’” Monica mimicked Brighton’s last partner while pointing at him. Brighton only shook his head, making the others laugh at the memory.

“I wasn’t that bad,” Brighton defended, pouring himself another glass.

He was already tipsy, and the memories they were trying to resurface weren’t sober motivation.

“No, you weren’t,” Mark said thoughtfully. “That’s why it was so pitiful when she left you.”

“She didn’t leave, Mark,” Erick reminded, feeling sad for Brighton. He could see how much Brighton was struggling to brush the topic off. “She just disappeared with no goodbye.”

“Did something happen?” Nasir asked, feeling sorry for the guy.

“Like God needs a reason to do anything to us!” Brighton spat the words as if they were venom.

“People used to call them ‘the dream team,’” Christe said, air-quoting the phrase.

“And they truly were,” Powell added. “I could have sworn that they were dating!”

“Which isn’t the case, since Brighton is still here and his partner’s gone,” Monica said helpfully.

Rubbing imaginary salt to Brighton's open wounds.

“Why are we even talking about me?” Brighton frowned. How had the conversation turned dark so quickly?

“I asked if you’d ever made any mistakes since coming here,” Nasir reminded him—the only sober one in the mix.

“Well, Brighton is good at his job,” the director cut in, her voice warm with pride. Brighton flushed. “But he’s too—”

“Wound up for his own good?” Mika jumped in eagerly. Not every day you got to roast your idol, so she took the chance while she had it.

“Proper?” Powell chimed, only to get smacked on the back of the head by Erick.

“Definitely a goody two-shoes,” Erick added.

“No—careful,” Grace corrected with a nod. “He’s just too careful.”

“Or maybe I’m just good at my job,” Brighton chuckled. “Something you all should try sometime.”

“What an ass,” Christe muttered, rolling her eyes at the director—who was, oddly enough, studying Nasir instead of Brighton.

“You’re not drinking with us?” the director asked suddenly, turning her gaze to Nasir. He stiffened.

“I don’t think I’d like the feeling,” he admitted awkwardly.

“And how would you know that?” she pressed, making everyone glance at the squirming newcomer.

“It’s just… the way I feel?” Nasir replied, uncertain.

“I admire you, Nasir,” the director smiled faintly. “I don’t know why you’re here, but I have a feeling you’ll teach us a lot along the way.” She stood, stretching.

“Good night. And—check your inbox. I sent you the emergency link for your targets,” the director said as she left the scene like the main character she was.

“Our next targets?” Nasir asked, turning to Brighton, who just grinned like a fool in love before shaking his head.

“The killer… and the nun,” Brighton said, wobbling as he stood. “I think I’m gonna throw up.”

“Why?” Nasir blinked, completely lost. He thought the case was closed when they mailed the new destinies to the Fate department.

“Because love is tricky, Nasir,” Mika sighed, helping Brighton back into his seat. “It makes people blind—but not stupid.”

“There’s always backlash to a bad match,” Grace added softly, pitying Nasir. First mission, and it was already a babysitting project. Brutal.

“I’m really gonna throw up,” Brighton announced—then promptly did, killing the party mood for good.

But good for them, Erick knew where Brighton lived, so opening a portal wasn’t hard.

“You’ll be sharing a house with your partner,” Erick muttered to Nasir as he opened a glowing portal, motioning for Nasir and the staggering Brighton to step through.

“Thank you,” mumbled Nasir gratefully as he helped Brighton to the portal—before Erick held him back.

“Take care of him,” Erick said awkwardly. “He’s still grieving.”

And that piqued Nasir’s curiosity.

Why did Sheryl disappear?

And to where?

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