Chapter 392: You’re Going To Hate Yourself For This

*A Week Later*

Madison Avenue on a Tuesday afternoon was the perfect place to gather intelligence.

Angela had suggested shopping, framing it as an opportunity to help Eve rediscover her personal style. What it actually was, was an opportunity to map Eve’s routines, her preferred stores, her security protocols, and the gaps in her protection.

They started at a boutique in Midtown, moving through racks of designer clothing. Angela played the role of stylist, helping Eve try on pieces, offering opinions, building the relationship one dress at a time.

But while she was doing that, she was also noting everything.

The security detail stayed back, two men positioned near the store entrance, communicating via earpieces. They gave Eve space but maintained clear sightlines. Professional. Competent. But not perfect.

"You have a gap when you’re in the dressing rooms," Angela noted casually while Eve was changing. "Your security can’t see you in there. That has to make you feel vulnerable."

"I haven’t thought about it," Eve said from behind the dressing room door, "but yeah, now that you mention it..."

Perfect. Angela had just highlighted a vulnerability while positioning herself as someone concerned for Eve’s safety.

They moved to another store. Then another. Angela kept her eyes open, kept track of timing, kept note of routines. Eve always exited stores from the main entrance. She always had her phone with her. She was always aware of her surroundings, but her awareness was exhausted, the hypervigilance of someone who’d been under threat for too long.

***

Angela met Dante in a safe house in Red Hook.

She arrived at 9 PM and found him alone in the main room, reviewing operations updates on a laptop.

He looked up when she entered.

"How’s the integration going?" Dante asked.

"Faster than expected," Angela said. "She’s isolated. Stressed. She needs connection so badly she’s willing to trust a stranger. She’s opening up to me about everything."

"Everything?" Dante asked.

"Her fears. Her vulnerabilities. Her security protocols. The gaps in her protection. The poison attempt has made her hyperaware but also exhausted. She’s running on fumes emotionally."

Dante listened without interrupting.

"She goes to the same three coffee shops," Angela continued, pulling out her notes. "She shops on Madison Avenue every Tuesday and Thursday. Her security detail is good, but there are windows. Times when they can’t see her. Moments when she’s alone in dressing rooms, in restaurant bathrooms, in elevators."

"Does she suspect anything?" Dante asked.

"No," Angela said. "She thinks I’m genuinely concerned about her. She thinks I’m her friend."

"Are you?" Dante asked.

Angela looked at him, and the question hung between them with terrible weight.

"No," Angela said finally. "I’m doing my job."

"Good," Dante said. "Because sentiment will get you killed. Get all of us killed. Keep building the relationship. Maintain the cover. Gather intelligence. By the end of the two weeks, I need The Covenant to have everything they need to execute whatever comes next."

"And if I care about her?" Angela asked quietly.

"Then you don’t," Dante said flatly. "You care about survival. You care about loyalty. You care about the job. Everything else is a luxury you can’t afford."

Angela nodded, accepting the cruelty because it was necessary.

***

Angela’s presence in Eve’s life became essential by the second week.

She attended a private dinner at Dimitri’s penthouse where she was introduced as Eve’s new friend. She met Marco, Dimitri’s head of security, and watched his eyes assess her for threat. She passed the assessment...she was female, friendly, posed no obvious danger. An oversight that worked in her favor.

She learned that Dimitri would be going to Rome at the end of the week. That Eve would be alone with only her security detail while he was away. That Eve was terrified of being alone, even though she tried to hide it.

She learned Eve’s exact schedule for the following week. Her yoga class on Monday. Her therapy appointment on Wednesday. Her lunch meetings on Friday. Every moment of her day mapped out and reported back to Dante.

She learned that Eve sometimes took sleeping pills to manage her anxiety. That she had insomnia from stress. That she was vulnerable in her own home, surrounded by people who cared about her but couldn’t protect her from everything.

And she learned that Eve had started to love her.

"I don’t know what I’d do without you," Eve said one afternoon, sitting in Angela’s carefully curated apartment in the Upper West Side. "You’ve become like the sister I never had."

Angela pulled her into a hug, and she felt Eve’s arms wrap around her, and she understood with absolute clarity that she was the most dangerous weapon in this entire operation.

Not because she was skilled. Not because she had training.

But because Eve actually cared about her.

And when The Covenant gave the order, when they told her what to do, Eve would die never understanding that the person she loved most had been the one setting her up all along.

***

Angela met Dante again at the safe house in Red Hook.

"Everything?" he asked.

"Everything," Angela confirmed. "Routines mapped. Security gaps identified. Vulnerabilities noted. She trusts me completely. She’s told me her worst fears, her deepest insecurities, her complete dependence on people to keep her safe."

"And she still suspects nothing?" Dante asked.

"Nothing," Angela said. "She thinks I’m her friend."

"Good," Dante said. "Because tomorrow, The Covenant is going to contact you with your next instructions. And you’re going to do exactly what they tell you to do. Understood?"

Angela nodded.

"Understood," she said.

Dante looked at her for a long moment, and something flickered across his expression....regret, maybe, or recognition of what he’d made her become.

"You’re going to hate yourself for this," Dante said quietly.

"I already do," Angela said.

"It will get worse," Dante said. "After Eve is dead. After you understand what you’ve actually done. After you realize that the friendship was real, even if the purpose was false."

"Will it matter?" Angela asked.

"No," Dante said. "It won’t matter at all."

Angela left the safe house understanding that she’d spent two weeks building a relationship with a woman she’d soon help kill. She’d heard Eve’s fears about death and dying, and she’d used those fears against her. She’d held Eve while she cried about the poison attempt, and she’d been gathering intelligence about how to facilitate the next one.

She was no longer just complicit.

She was the weapon.

And in less than twenty-four hours, The Covenant would give the order, and Angela would have to decide whether she could actually pull the trigger, literally or figuratively, or whether she would finally break.