“I hear she used to be Delta,” one of the younger agents whispered. “Is that really true?”

Lena never confirmed or denied such rumors. She simply performed her duties with a precision that felt almost military, never once discussing her past or her nightmares.

Early one morning, Supervisor Carver summoned Lena to his cramped office. His voice was unusually soft, as if he were trying to keep the conversation private. She stood there, back straight, ignoring the squeak of the worn leather chair when Carver gestured for her to sit. She chose to remain standing.

“There’s a route out in Elsencio,” Carver began. “We’ve had some odd chatter about possible movement in that area. Nothing definitive, just rumors. Maybe smugglers, maybe nothing. Think you can check it out on your own?”