Modern Spy Novels & Stories

The door by the side of the office opened, and a guy walked out wearing a sleek black suit. My heart stopped. Completely. My eyes widened. “Lex?” I whispered. Barely. Alex. My teammate. Wait. Alexander? The same Alexander that played hockey with me? The same— My brain wasn’t having it. It felt like a dream. “Surprise, Sky,” Alex said. He wasn’t smiling. Not the shy-looking Alex anymore. He looked cold. Professional. What the fuck. How could I not—how? “He’s not just a hockey player, Skyler,” the supervisor explained. “Alex is a high-level spy of the UN. He was sent to monitor you. To make sure you didn’t get soft. To make sure our top assassin stayed focused. And so far, you have been good.”

I flopped, all the contents of the first aid kit came crashing down the tiles. Rowan sighed deeply. “Are you also clumsy? Is this how you would work when you start your job fully? Do I need to fire—” “What did you want me to help with?” I hastily cut him off to push his mind away from that word. At least I could prove useful in that other way. “There is a spy in the company,” He said as he pushed himself deeply into the sofa, “From what I know, he or she is pursuing the investors by the contracts drafted.”

Ambrosia said, and they all smirked. *** "Are you still working on the detector machine?" Lennox asked, as he entered the power room. Artemis looked at him and smiled. "Yes I'm. It needs to be used to catch whoever the spy is". "Who do you think is the spy?" Lennox asked. "I'm not sure. I can't tell, everyone seems so nice and you can't know who to suspect" "But whoever he or she is, is digging his or her grave," Lennox said.

Ayla caught the rhythm of the room: the hush before a number was called, the shift of weight when tension crested, the faintest collective exhale when a lot was claimed. Then, without ceremony, the auctioneer lifted a small black envelope from the table. “Lot forty-seven,” he announced, his voice dropping to a tone that made the air in the room seem heavier. “Designated… ‘Specter.’” A ripple moved through the crowd. Not an object. A name. The screen behind him did not light with an image. Instead, a single word appeared in stark white on a black background: CONFIDENTIAL. “This,” the auctioneer said, “is an asset with confirmed operational success in extraction, infiltration, and destabilizat

No 911, no SOS, no cavalry tonight. Back at the watch house, the command center buzzed low—banks of monitors, thermal cams, encrypted radios. A tech—young, twitchy, called “Sparks”—frowned at his station, green glow bathing his face. “Uh, sir?” he called, voice cracking as he tapped the screen. “We just lost—”

OMEGA MARY It’s incredible how much information people can access when they’re quiet. People like me blend into the background. If I really wanted, I could become a great spy one day. Spy Omega Mary. No, just...Spy Mary. I like it but in another lifetime. I’m content with doing a great job by providing excellent service. If I bid my time, I’ll be appreciated for every little thing I do. I smiled at that thought as I cleared some of the dirty dishes.