IN OTHER WORDS
There weren’t a lot of rules.
Lie.
Cheat.
Steal.
All perfectly fine with the agency.
Threaten.
Torture.
Kill.
Just another part of the job description.
Boundaries.
Ethics.
Morals.
They were blurred lines I was never forced to define and frequently found myself crossing.
My world didn’t distinguish right from wrong. Black and white were nothing more than lofty ideals. I lived in the gray area.
There weren’t a lot of limits, in the gray.
But there was one. A single, icon-clad, unbendable margin you did not cross.
Don’t get attached.
Don’t leave loose ends.
Don’t forget that it’s all temporary.
If there was one protocol you didn’t disregard, it was that one.
I looked down at my left hand. I would’ve laughed at the sight of the pure white cord wrapped just below my cracked red knuckle, but I couldn’t seem to find any humor in this situation. I wasn’t allowed to care about Faith. Wasn’t supposed to make any permanent connections or long-term bonds.
She wasn’t mine. She never would be.
Except, now… she kind of was.
And she was more than just a loose end.
She was my fucking wife.
I’d crossed the line of demarcation. I’d broken the one rule I lived my life by. I’d disregarded my most important order.
In other words, I was fucked.