The bunker was quiet.
Too quiet.
Bob had finally dozed off on the narrow couch, curled up with a blanket she tossed at him earlier without a word. He'd thanked her softly. She didn't respond.
Now, the only sound was the hum of the generator and the occasional shift of fabric as he turned in his sleep.
Frankie sat near the main console, one leg bouncing, elbow propped against the table as she stared at the screen. No new messages. No new pings.
She didn't trust it.
Her gun sat beside her. Loaded. Safety off.
Her eyes flicked to the feed-perimeter clear. For now.
She stood up and paced. Quietly. Just enough movement to bleed off the electricity under her skin.
Bob murmured something in his sleep and shifted. Frankie paused. Watched him for a moment.
He looked peaceful. That wasn't normal.
No one should look peaceful in her bunker. Especially not someone who had no business trusting her.
She dragged a chair to the front entrance and sat with her back to the wall, eyes locked on the door.
Her mind kept circling the same thought:
They know I'm here. They know he's here too now. And they're waiting for something.
She checked her watch. Three hours until sunrise.
Her hand hovered near her weapon again.
Let them come.
She wouldn't sleep.
One of them had to stay awake.
YOU ARE READING
Code Name: Untraceable
FanfictionShe's not on the roster. She's not in the system. She's not even supposed to be alive. Every mission the Thunderbolts run, she's there-appearing out of nowhere, tearing through enemies like a storm, then vanishing without a trace. One time? Coincide...
