Rule number five; I don't care what your mind says, you deserve to be happy.

My body slams hard into the back of the door as his lips move over my neck, his tongue tracing imaginary tattoos on the sensitive skin.

I moan as one of his hands trails the curve of my hip and rests on the small of my back. His other holding tightly to my waist as my hands roam unabashed through his mussed up brunette hair.

I push myself off the door, shoving the man in front of me onto my bed, climbing over his hips and settling against him. I reach down, pull my shirt over my head, and fling it to the floor.

My hands hold his above his head as I lean down and demand his attentions once more. His hips lift, rolling us to the other side of the double bed.

One of his hands trails up my side before lingering on my jaw. He clutches my face gently, pulling my face to his roughly. Yet his face sinks into my neck, leaving my lips tingling for touch. He drags his lips over my pulse point, slowly making his way up to my ear.

I moan, rolling us back over, straddling his hips.

The man leans back, his hazel eyes stark on my brown ones, the pillow crinkling under him.

"You're not what I expected, Agent Eleven."

Cold washes over me and I react, twisting for the side table and retrieve my gun.

The click echoes in the silence as I push the gun under his chin, lifting his head up slightly though his taunting smirk doesn't dissipate.

"Are you so cocky that a gun to your head does nothing for you?"

The man below me grins, jaw ticking. "On the contrary, it does a lot."

A wicked gleam lights his eyes, his hips lifting just slightly, the bulge beneath me causing my brain to lose focus for just a second.

It's all the time he needs, my body ending up under his on the bed, a gun in his hand and pointed at my head.

He lifts a brow, as another click echoes, the safety of a gun flicking off and the barrel held against my temple.

"Seems we're at an impasse." The man above murmurs, leaning down despite the gun pointed at him.

I chuckle breathlessly, shoving my forehead into his face. He pulls back on a yell, blood dripping from his nose and arm lifting to survey the damage.

I use the opportunity, pushing him off my body and rolling from the bed. I stand up, holding my gun steady. Watching his smirking features for any sign of his next move.

He lifts his own gun, cocking his head to the side.

"Who sent you?" I growl out, my feet skimming over my discarded shirt.

I ignore the vulnerable position I've put myself in and round the bed but keep my gaze on him.

"Who said anyone sent me?"

"You called me Agent Eleven, few people know me by that name. I don't remember you being one of them."

A smirk tilts his lips. "Director wants you back."

I scoff, "Took him long enough."

The man on the bed moves then, getting off the mattress and appearing in front of me.

I take a step back, shaking the gun in my grip.

"You forget who has the upper hand here." I remind him, lifting a brow.

"Do you?" He taunts.

I lift a goading brow back.

He lifts his hands in the air, the gun pointed upwards as if he's giving up.

"Just come with me and you won't get hurt."

"I won't get hurt." I scoff, rolling my eyes down his form. "You on the other hand."

The words have hardly left their imprint in the air when I swing, my foot connecting with his side.

He moves, his fist skimming my cheekbone before I manage to manoeuvre out of the way. I miss his other fist as it pounds into my unprotected stomach.

I groan quietly, narrowing my dark eyes on his and twist, shoving my elbow into his jaw.

He groans but ducks at my second jab, winding his arms around my waist. Warm breath hitting my ear as he chuckles.

My back hits the door once more, the breath leaving my lungs on a rough exhale.

"You really love this position."

I sneer up at him, bringing my knee to his groin but he moves, slipping his leg between mine and pinning me with his hips.

"Just give up." He taunts, looking down at me.

I push the gun I'm holding to his crotch further in, lifting a daring brow at him. "I don't give up."

His head whips down.

He lifts his hands up non-threateningly.

"We're not here to fight you."

I don't miss the use of the word 'we'.

"Just here to take me back?" I take a step away from the door, closer to the bed and my other gun. I keep my eyes on him as I circle slowly, his hazel eyes never leaving mine.

"Exactly." He smirks, dark brown hair falling into hazel eyes. "Then we can be rid of each other, deal?"

"What if I don't want to go back?"

"That's not my problem. I have a job to do."

"Do you always do as you're told like a good little Agent?" I taunt, "Tell me, how's that collar feel around your neck? Is it getting tight yet?"

A muscle in his jaw flexes, teeth grinding.

"Hit a spot, did I? You don't like being a lap dog?" I scoff out a laugh, flicking my eyes down his form. "Why? It suits you."

The door opens at that second and I move, diving for the bed and retrieving the gun stashed under the mattress.

The click of the safety resounds in the silence, and I aim the new weapon at the three that stand at my apartment door.

I focus my attention back on the obvious leader of the group, narrowing my dark eyes on his hazel ones.

"Why does he want me back now?"

Hazel eyes shakes his head, "You can ask him yourself when we take you back." He turns to his friends by the door, no doubt his team. "Took you long enough."

The only girl of the group rolls her eyes, retrieving the gun from her hip lazily before aiming it at me. Her pink curly hair pulled up into two space buns and the bodysuit smooth on her petite figure, curving over her hips.

"Better?" She sasses, hand landing on her hip.

Cleo.  I lift a brow but keep my focus split between all of them, not wanting any of them to pay too much attention to me.

I take a slow step back, my gaze going for the window but knowing it's futile, I'll never make it.

The man follows my gaze, shaking his head. "Cleo will shoot you before you can take one step."

As if to prove she will, the girl straightens her hand and raises a dark brow at me, resting bitch face in full force.

My eyes go to the two men beside her, flickering between them.

One tall with light blonde hair, glasses perched on his crooked nose and piercing green eyes. He wears a button up, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

Clay. I swallow, looking away from him and slowly focus on the other man.

Even though I promise myself they couldn't possibly know who I am, I'm still cautious.

Slightly shorter, strawberry blonde hair and twinkling blue eyes. Tattoos covering his arms from knuckle to the cuff of his button up. Another one peaking from under his shirt collar.

Liam.

I stare long enough for the man in front of me to act, his hands clasping my wrists and pushing my arms apart.

A bullet hits the air as my finger squeezes the trigger before both weapons are ripped from my hands.

I take three steps back as the man crowds me back, his stare goading.

"I guess I had the upper-hand."

I smile tightly and swing, catching him against the jaw.

His head whips to the side before he straightens and grabs both my arms and pulls them behind my back.

"I need the zip ties."

The tallest guy walks closer, his distrustful eyes on mine as the girl holsters her gun once more.

The ties loop around my wrists and he pulls them tight before dragging me over to my own bed and forcing me to sit.

"Clay, tell Director we have her, and we'll be on our way." The man says to the tallest one, who pulls out a phone.

I track his movements as he walks closer, his gait cool and collected.

The blue-eyed boy bounds over to the two men, shutting my apartment door behind him with a resounding click.

I watch them converse lowly, unimpressed with my imprisonment in my own home.

"You know your comm was still on, we could hear everything." The blue-eyed boy says, nodding his head exaggeratedly and lifting his brows. "A lot of tension here." He looks to me, "Sex-u-al." He says exaggeratedly.

He chuckles evilly as the hazel-eyed man throws a pillow his way and I settle back in my seat.

"Not the time, Liam."

"It's always the time to make fun of you."

My head whips to the man who held me close on this very bed, tilting my head as I analyse him.

Archer. The Leader.

My eyes flicker back to Clay before I look away quickly.

He was meant to be the leader.

Archer turns to look at me, smirking down at me before prowling closer.

"Now, what weapons do we have on us?"

• • •

The door opens and the man holding my arms lets go, letting me walk forward, the zip ties already removed.

Director stands at the threshold, his eyes going behind me and he dips his head.

I look back, seeing Clay and Archer both nod back before turning away.

I scoff and his dark eyes land back on me, his teeth grinding.

I tilt my head and smirk back, lifting my hand in a lazy wave.

"Agent Eleven, come into my office so I can explain in painstaking detail how much of a dumbass you are."

"Happy to see you too, Director." I smirk, refraining from glancing back at the people who own the eyes burning into my back. "It's been a while."

"Don't start with me."

I follow behind the Director as he strides back into his office, the sound of his teeth grinding in his wake.

The mahogany door slams shut behind me once both my feet are over the threshold.

"Do you have any idea what you have done with your disappearing act?" He asks calmly, a world of storm in his eyes. His arms fling out to his side at my silence. "Of course, you don't." He takes a seat behind the desk, wheeling his chair forward so he can place his elbows on it. His fingers move to his temples, rubbing the spot roughly.

His salt and pepper hair curling around his reddening ears.

Picture frames line the wall behind him, words spewed on the pieces of paper but no photographs to be seen.

"You put this entire organisation at risk when you ran. And killing the Sable twins-" he cuts himself off, breathing deep.

He sighs, giving up on the conversation when he look back up at me.

"Agent Eleven, you have to let go of this anger. Disappearing a year ago was reckless."

I cross my arms, stepping back away from the desk.

"Agent Twelve died. It's time to move on. I know you were -"

"Don't," I stalk closer, hands flexing for the hidden dagger on my body, flicking it free. "Tell me how to feel. Don't act like you cared about her."

His hands grip the chair, the leather whining under his tight hold. "Of course, I cared for her. Just like I care for every agent."

I scoff, "Only when it suits you." The words are poison spilling from my lips.

His head turns to the side, jaw flexing before he turns back to me.

"I didn't have you brought back here to talk about that."

I step back, leaning against the wall and crossing my arms. "Then why, I was perfectly fine being away from this place."

"I know you've never liked this place." He starts, "You killed the Sable twins. Left evidence. You wanted my attention, now you've got it."

"I told you when I left I wouldn't ever work for you again." I say harshly.

He ignores the look, fixing his position in his seat, "Did you at least do what you wanted while you were gone? Have you satiated that hunger?"

I let my silence answer for me.

"Of course, you haven't. Jedrik is hard to track down. Not just anyone will be able to do it."

I swallow back the words I want to spit at him, to acknowledge what I know. "Lilac did." I say instead.

"And it got her killed."

I narrow my eyes at him, flicking them over his shoulder.

He clears his throat. "Now you have to get over it."

"I'm not going to." My heart cracks in half, much like my voice. "I'm going after her killer."

Director settles back in his seat, "You won't be able to find him."

I ignore him, crossing my arms and letting the silence continue.

"You're coming back, Eleven, no more running."

I narrow my eyes. "I'll stay."

He breathes out.

"On one condition."

His back snaps straight.

"You give me all the information on Lilac's death." I pause, looking at him when he sighs. "Including her mission file."

"That is classified information."

"I'm sure you can make it unclassified."

He sighs, reaching over his desk to press a button on his phone. It buzzes once before he talks into it. "Please give Agent Eleven all the available files on Agent Twelve and her last mission, thank you, Samantha." He clicks off without waiting for a reply. "They'll be at her desk when you leave."

"Now I have a task for you." My head snaps to his, eyes narrowing. "You will be back in the field, starting now."

I narrow my eyes, knowing more is coming just by how he won't look into my eyes.

"I'm assigning you to a team. Effective immediately." He says, his voice stern and eyes hard.

I stop the smile from stretching across my face, as I look at the prey in my trap.

"I don't want a team."

"You don't have a choice Agent. It's either a team or termination." He grabs his gun from the desk drawer and sits it mockingly on the desk, letting me know exactly what he means by termination.

"You can't." I glare at him, but he doesn't falter from his course.

He smiles tightly, "Can't I?" He replies tersely, his eyes twinkling menacingly. His fingers strum along the gun like he's learning the guitar, yet his art isn't music. It's murder.

"One of these days- "

"Don't threaten me, Agent Eleven." The words are measured with just the right amount of venom and authority.

I smile sweetly, narrowing my eyes on him. "It's not a threat."

Director ignores me, "As long as you play my game, I'll let you win."

Who said I'm not already winning?

"Which team?"

"The team who's targets you killed."

"Of fucking course." I mutter, letting a scowl stretch my lips instead of the smile I want.

Because I know exactly how you think, and I've been playing this game a lot longer than you believe.

"You will work with them, Agent Eleven. I won't take your disrespect much longer."

I let the slam of the door be my only answer.

And I'm prepared to do anything to win.

• Question Of The Chapter •

Your favourite come back/insult of all time?