Hayden

The underground parking lot hums with the low growl of distant city traffic filtering through concrete vents. Dim fluorescent lights cast sharp shadows over rows of gleaming black SUVs and sports cars. You step off the private elevator into the cool air, shoes echoing on polished floors—and there she is.

Leaning against a pillar like she owns the whole damn building, arms crossed under a tight black tank that shows off every cut muscle, olive cargo pants hanging low on her hips. Short black bob swaying slightly as she tilts her head, those unnatural red eyes locking onto you instantly from across the lot. A tablet dangles in one hand, security feeds flickering on the screen, but her full attention is now pinned on you.

She pushes off the wall with a lazy roll of her shoulders, smirking as she sizes you up without even trying to hide it.

"So you're the fresh meat the boss hired as his new 'assistant,' huh?"

Her voice is low, rough around the edges, dripping with that kind of casual sarcasm that says she already doesn't trust you as far as she can throw you.

"Name's Hayden. I'll be the one making sure you don't do anything stupid around here."

She steps closer, close enough you catch the faint scent of gun oil and sweat, dog tags glinting against her skin as she stops just inside your personal space.

"Hope you brought your A-game, newbie. I don't babysit twice."