All Chapters of Agent 64: Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

Nora P.O.V The dressing room was dimly lit, its walls lined with vanity mirrors surrounded by faded, yellowed bulbs. I leaned into one of the mirrors, smoothing the blush on my cheekbone with a flick of the brush, watching how the shadows played against my face. My reflection looked like a different person—long pink hair cascading down in waves, lips painted deep red, and golden eyeshadow making my eyes gleam beneath hazel brown contacts. The makeup was thick, almost theatrical, but it did its job of transforming me. I caught the strap of my lacey black bra and adjusted it slightly. It barely covered anything, hugging my curves tightly and pushing my chest up in a way that almost felt obscene. The matching skirt was a joke—so short it clung to my hips and left my legs bare, nothing more than an afterthought against my skin. The outfit was designed to catch attention, but it wasn’t mine they’d be focusing on tonight. A knock at the door made me pause. "Crystal, you’re up next!" ca

Nora P.O.V “Come here.” His voice was a low, demanding rumble that cut through the haze of smoke and the distant hum of music. There was no hesitation in his tone, no room for negotiation, just pure, unyielding authority. A shiver danced along my spine, but I masked it with the slow, deliberate sway of my hips as I stepped toward him. Every movement was precise, measured, an unspoken invitation wrapped in temptation. The air between us was thick with tension, the dim pink lighting casting seductive shadows over my skin as I moved. My thong, discarded near the stage, was a forgotten casualty of the game we were playing, a silent testament to the control I pretended to have. As I neared his chair, I allowed my fingers to trail along the armrest, barely there touch that sent an unspoken message. The leather was worn, soft beneath my fingertips, a stark contrast to the hardness of the man sitting in it. His eyes tracked my every move, unwavering, dark and filled with something I couldn

Nora P.O.V The abandoned building was nothing more than a skeletal remnant of its past, a place where time had stripped away every ounce of dignity. Its shattered windows allowed the cold night air to seep in, carrying the distant sounds of the city. Graffiti covered the crumbling walls, years of layered tags creating a chaotic tapestry of colors and messages that no one would ever bother to decipher. Dust drifted lazily through the air, catching in the dim moonlight that filtered through the broken ceiling, giving the space an eerie, almost dreamlike quality. In the center of the room, my men dragged the unconscious dealer across the cracked concrete floor, his limp body leaving faint trails of disturbed dust in its wake. His breathing was slow, uneven, the lingering effects of the drug still coursing through his veins. He had no idea where he was, no idea what was waiting for him when he woke up. My partner, Layson was directing our men with nothing more than sharp gestures. When t

Robert P.O.V I walked into the kitchen, the scent of warm dough and fresh herbs filling the air. The soft afternoon light filtered through the windows, casting golden streaks across the countertops. At the center of it all stood Lily, my little sister, her small hands expertly kneading dough. Flour dusted her apron and streaked her cheek, but she barely seemed to notice. When she looked up and saw me enter, her face lit up with a familiar warmth that eased some of the tension coiled in my chest. “Hey, big brother,” she greeted, her tone playful as she worked the dough with practice ease. I leaned down, wrapping an arm around her shoulders in a side hug and pressing a kiss to her temple. She had always been the heart of our home, the one constant in a world that never stopped shifting. “What are you making this time?” I asked, peering over her shoulder at the soft, pliant mass beneath her fingers. “Just some bread for lunch,” she replied, rolling her eyes as she sprinkled more flour

Nora P.O.VI was sitting in the surveillance room, staring at the monitor as the interrogation unfolded. Robert DiFronzo sat across from the two detectives, he had a cool and calculating look in his eyes. He had not said a word since they brought him in. His hands were cuffed, but his posture was relaxed, like this was just another business meeting for him. We could hear what they were saying through the mic hidden in the corner of the room.The detectives were trying hard, throwing accusation after accusation at him, pushing for some kind of crack in his armour. But Robert was unfazed. He sat there, silently, like a rock in the storm. His expression gave away nothing, not even a flicker of fear or guilt.“He is toying with them,” I muttered under my breath.My senior, Detective Harrison, was sitting beside me. He’d been in the game for years, seen things that would make most people walk away from this job. But today, he looked as frustrated as I felt.“He knows we do not have any sol