"Surprise!" The redhead sashays off the rugged stairs. Anne Scott in flesh. I crease my eyes, a bit uncomprehending but as clearly as the look of her glinting red hair resembling an Autumn. "What? You look like you've seen a ghost. A hot one, that is. It's me, Red. I'm not dead."

"The fuck you're not." I crane my neck, stalking her with a tilted head as she strides nonchalantly like a cat who's just finished a meal—full and sated, still with claws.

She smells like fruits, bypassing the industrial metallic scent coiled in the air. As much as I anticipated her presence, the element of surprise sparked within me. It's unbelievable that she is alive.

"Well, you don't look too surprised," she accuses, giving me a subtle playful gaze, her voice projecting a faux disappointment.

"Because I'm not," I reply. It's a fact. "I was almost aware of your trick, Anne, so you only confirmed the obvious," I add.

For someone who allegedly died, she surely looks as good as a spring day. Makeup and all, six tall inches of heels. I just wonder what that Spanish troublemaker would've done at this moment knowing her incredible temper.

"You're lame," saying this, Anne limps toward the tattered metal chairs, just a few of the worn-out objects filled in the warehouse that was once some kind of storage of machinery parts. "And hot too, so you're pardoned." She breaks into a smile and adds, "Mia is one lucky bitch, you know. Until the fucking end, she gets all the goodies." Her heels echo as she hauls a chair, crawling the spindles noisily against this hard concrete floor.

I sit on the chair across from hers. Silence ensues, quiet enough to hear my heartbeat loud and clear. My guess: it's only me and Anne and the two bodyguards outside in this place. Dingy light, maybe blue or silver hue, brings her into closer view now. She's in a black dress covering half of her thighs, and every inch of her upper body with full sleeves and a turtle neck.

"How did you pull it off?" I go ahead, trying to get this into perspective despite the odds.

"Making everyone believe that I died? Oh well, I call it renaissance because I feel reborn, Red." She seems proud, smiling, and gloating about it. But I find it difficult to believe her façade for some reason. "Well, it wasn't that hard given that you all bought it, right? I bet you wished I was dead, though." She props her one knee over the other, her bold pretense well-read through her eyes nonetheless.

I'm skeptical. I don't know how the fuck she did it all and managed to infiltrate into my affairs deep enough to figure out that I'm a spy, but I can tell right now she's not the criminal mastermind behind the whole ploy.

"Hmmm, I see." I nod my head softly, acknowledging her. "And I suppose you wanted Mia to fall along with your super plan, right? For what? Just to get even with her?"

I gauge Anne's reaction tentatively. Quick inhalation, lifting an eyebrow uncomfortably, then pulling a smile so impertinent and witty while wiggling in her chair to sit upright.

"Well, she just happened to be at the right place and at the right time, that's it! Call it collateral damage and a magical sprinkle of luck." She shrugs.

"Which... you planned!" I grit my teeth, leaning forward; my hands are interlocked, linked between my spread knees. "You called her. You set her up! And I don't understand how and why you—"

"I hated her!" Anne interrupts contemptuously. "She had everything I never had. And even when I thought I took something from her, she still found a replacement so fucking quickly. YOU! She lost Patrick but had you who worships her just like every man she charms." Laughing apathetically, bitterly adds, "I wanted to make her suffer even a bit. Well, I guess it didn't even work, did it? Couldn't even rally up my victory dance, and boom, she was released!"

I'm shocked, really. What a terrible enigma envy can be. I know it's pathetic and everything sounds like a high-school feud but I'm honestly not a bit interested.

"Where is the Ex-File?"

"Easy, cowboy! One step at a time. I'm not gonna hand it to you just like that, and I'm sure you're not stupid to think so," she utters with ambiguity laying between the lines of her words and voice. "Let's talk first, Tell me about Mia and your baby. How did she take it when her fingers prints were found all over the gun that shot me, huh?"

Now she's getting on my nerves.

"The crime scene was manipulated," I indulge her. "Are you saying it was your doing, too? Because here is what I think, Anne." I pause to catch a breath, and she stays rather curious and slightly wary. "You don't even know how you pulled your death and here you are trying to make me eat at the palm of your hand with a stunt? Do you even know what the Ex-File is?"

"I do have the Ex-file!" Anne snaps. "Then why do you think I called you here?" She's finally agitated and up to her heels, glaring at me icily.

"Then what are we waiting for?" I lean back in my chair, lazily. "If you have it, what do you need me for? You can use it to get whatever it is that you're seeking and yet you're rumbling here in riddles like a mafia queen wannabe who's still hung up in the shadow of her once-upon-a-time best friend that she maliciously betrayed."

"Shut up!"

"No, you shut up! Enough! I don't have time to play around with you or anyone who finds their life boring, Anne, because this shit is serious! Maybe you don't care since you're probably one of Patrick's pawns but I do. I fucking do!" I don't know when I've stood up and all I can think of is ways to end this and put my life in order.

My family is in danger! And goddamn it, time is ticking rapidly.

I hear guns clicking, and two barrels are pointed my way. The bodyguards at the rescue

I don't move. Angrily, I keep glaring at Anne, ignoring them.

"It's alright," she tells them. They don't seem to respond quickly—another red flag that she ain't calling the shots. "I said it's okay! Move it!" she adds, and eventually they back off.

She sighs heavily.

"I need to take Patrick down and I need your help," she says. It colors me intrigued somehow. She sounds sincere. "He wanted me dead. No, he sent a hitman to kill me that day and for that, he needs to pay!" Like the venom from a black mamba, her determination sounds poisonous.

I feel my eyebrows hardening as I consider her allegations. Maybe it's true—we've learned as much during our investigation—but how does she have the Ex-File and how did she manage to escape Patrick's angel of death? She's not cleared yet.

"Suppose I believe you," I say, trying to follow the flow, "what is in it for me?"

"As I said, I do have the Ex-File," she replies.

I swallow briskly but let no emotion betray my face. "And where is it?"

"Somewhere safe. I just need your word first," she answers.

I consider this for a long moment before saying, "Okay, I accept. So how exactly do you—" A mortal bang very familiar cuts through the air.

"What the fuck!" Anne gasps and I crane my neck toward the entrance, using my hand to tug my pistol automatically. "Did you bring anyone with you?" Her tone is sharp and accusing.

"No. I thought maybe you set me up!" I try to move and stop instantly at the same moment Anne draws a sharp cry, blocking her ears frantically using her palms.

"Move it!" I hoist her on the shoulders and delve into the darkness cast behind the stairway, "Lay low and don't move," I whisper harshly.

Anne crouches next to me, her eyes glowing with fear. And in split second, heavily, one of the two bodyguards bites the dust like a big bag of grains just a few steps from us. Shot and dead.

Fuck! More bullets fly past the door, and the second guard grimaces from outside, shooting back.

"I think you brought them!" Anne whispers a yell.

I grit back whatever retort I was about to expel with words, the pistol in my strongest grip. My back against the wall, I carefully veer my head toward the entrance. It's suddenly clear, no more shooting or retaliation. But shadows of men, four or five, fully armed, emerge from the fence.

"What's going on? Are we surrounded or something?" Anne whispers, her breath hovering so fast that I can feel it against my neck. "How many are they?"

I don't know. I see motorcycles with blinkers and more men coming.

I want to shoot whoever it is but I decide against it. They may be Marlow's men but that's not part of the agreement. I had to give a sign for them to show up if I needed help, which I didn't and it leaves me wondering what is going on indeed.

"Is there another way out of here?" I ask, and before I can do so much as glance at her, the power runs out and she grips my hand, pulling me away with her.

She's flicked off the main switch. It's pitch black and we're heading into the basement after a shortcut to the small room she probably knows by heart.

"It leads to a tunnel outside. We need light. You have a phone?" she asks, panting, her high heels giving us away if these walls are paper thin and not soundproof.

But we make it inside the room and lock the door.

We hear breakage, gunshots, and muffled male voices at the same moment my phone buzzes with Marlow's name and flashlight on.

I pick up and hear, "Your job is done, kid. Handover the lady and I'll take care of the rest."

Incredulity manipulates my face into a deep frown. "What the fuck are you talking about?" I ask briskly.

Kneeling on the floor, Anne begins struggling to open the steel lid, probably an entrance to the tunnel as she claimed.

"I got the decryption of the flash you gave me." The eerie vibe of Marlow's voice tears my breath unevenly. A frown deepens between my eyebrows. "What I needed is all here but I need the rest of the Ex-File... You know, so our FBI friends won't have anything to sulk about once we all go our separate ways."

"I don't have the fucking Ex-File, Marlow!" I snap. "And neither does she."

"Don't play hero, Red. Here's your chance to end this and return to your life with your baby mama, don't you think?"

"Hey, a little help?" Anne snaps, partly apprehensive by the shock registered on my face.

I don't move yet. I'm garbled.

"You don't work for the FBI, do you?" I ask him, unbelieving.

"It's not important who I work for, Red. But if it's any consolation to you, just know that I work with more powerful people than the FBI who wants to take down all the patrons of Project Z and nothing can stop them. It's biological war, kid, and trust me, it's for the sake of humanity."

Bullshit! This is why I hate getting entangled with the government and all the counter-intelligence yadda yadda. It's always a war, with guns or not. I didn't quit the marine to be someone's pawn!

"And what if I don't comply?" I take my chances even though I know the answer all too well to play dumb.

"Well, as we're speaking... I have your pretty mother-in-law on my radar. Sophie Diaz, right? I have a date with her tomorrow and I'm looking forward to it. Like mother like daughter. Enchanting!"

"You, asshole," I mutter under my breath.

My breath shakes and every muscle in my body tenses. Not Mia's mom!

"All you need to do is hand over that woman and I let you walk free, Red. For the sake of my friendship with your father, do what I ask and everyone goes home happy. Well, except for the redhead of course. Her compliance will choose her fate."

Intense heat sears through my blood, burning my vessels furiously for I've been used by Marlow Seyfried all this time. He needed someone unrelated to the FBI to lay a hand on the Ex-File, and now that he has it, or half of it as he claims, he wants me off his business.

That motherfucker!

"What?" Anne mouths, worried, and I can feel the enemies getting closer to the door.

"Well, I guess we have a small problem, Marlow." My eyes are on the sulkin' Anne; barely does she know what a pit of danger she's thrown herself into by pulling this stunt tonight. "I'll hand Anne Scott over, but just so you know, she doesn't know shit about the Ex-file."

In my guts I know it's true.

"I don't believe you." I feel Marlow's agitation.

Anne stands up slowly, wearing a grave look, her eyes wide and afraid.

"I'd you want the damn Ex-File, I'll be the one to get it for you, just as we agreed! Now if you touch a single hair of Sophie's head, I will kill you and extinct your entire family, Marlow. You know I will, and I certainly can." Without waiting for his reply, I end the call and tell Anne, "You're in a deep shit, lady. And I'm your only talisman to stay alive right now as long as you do as I say."

"What?"

"Move it. You and I have a lot to talk about." I push her aside and use every bit of my strength to pluck the lid. I groan as it slides open with difficulty. "Starting by, who are you working for?" I gaze up at her momentarily, and then at the round open plunged in vertically.

It's a tomb, adjoined with built-in a ladder that most probably leads to a tunnel. We use it immediately, and at the back of my mind, I know there's a change of plan. I work for no one but myself now, and whoever has the Ex-File is the only ally I'm looking for.

________
A/N: Okay, Anne is back and she may be the key to our problems, right? Oh, I'm so excited to finish this friggin' book of betrays and lies and lots of Love.