CODE NAME: ETHEREAL

Chapter One: The Collision

Rue in MM

The thundering of Louboutin heels against polished marble echoed through the hallway of the Global Environmental Conference in Geneva. Rue Fleurentin—cloaked in an elegant tailored tan trench with dark cat-eye sunglasses and a scent trail of Velvet Powder—was already late.

She wasn't usually late.

But she had to lose two armed men tailing her on a gondola in Zurich, and that wasn't on the itinerary.

By day, she was Dr. Fleurentin—climate expert, international consultant, admired on covers of scientific magazines and whispered about in elite social circles. But after hours... Rue was a ghost. A myth. The woman you called when a nuclear bioweapon disappeared from the Arctic or when a government needed cleaning up quietly.

And today? She was here to give a lecture on soil regeneration... with a tiny vial of uranium-laced algae in the lining of her thigh-high boot.

⸻

Meanwhile...

Three buildings away, Ja'Liah Saint was perched silently on a rooftop, dressed in matte black tactical Balmain with titanium-threaded cargo pants. Her fresh fade catching the breeze of the wind. Her watch read out infrared pings from Rue's body heat signature. She was tracking her. Not for love. Not yet.

For protocol.

Ja'Liah worked for an off-book division of Interpol. Code name: SOLACE. She was feared, respected, and wanted in nine countries—for arrests, not dates. But her assignment now? Observe Dr. Fleurentin. Determine if she was still a scientist... or something more dangerous.

She zoomed her monocular in.

"Goddamn." Her voice rasped.
Not professional. She knew better.

⸻

The Meeting

Inside the hall, Rue adjusted her mic and cleared her throat.

"Good evening. I'm Dr. Rue Fleurentin and today we'll discuss the weaponization of eco-degradation and what that means for your grandchildren's water."

Ja'Liah, now seated in the back row in disguise—oversized cardigan and clear glasses, she almost choked on her cucumber water. That voice...

But then, gunfire.

Screams.

The lights cut out.

Rue sighed softly. "Y'all couldn't wait 'til after the Q&A?"

She dropped the mic, literally. From the inside of her jacket, she pulled two custom pearl-handled pistols and motioned toward the side exit.

A figure in all black appeared through the smoke. Gun up.
Rue whipped around—aimed.

"Don't shoot," the figure said. "I'm on your side."

"Everyone says that," Rue muttered.

Then their eyes met.

Ja'Liah's hood slipped back. Rue blinked. "You again."

"You remember me?"

"You tackled me into a canal in Venice last year. You don't forget that kind of trauma."

"I dried you off. With warmth."

"With a Glock pointed at my thigh."

"Same difference."

They both ducked as bullets ripped through the wall.

Ja'Liah grabbed Rue's hand.

"You wearing Dior or Kevlar under that?"
Rue grinned. "Both. I don't take chances."

They ran. Slid under closing blast doors. Shot out cameras. Laughed mid-firefight. Rue elbowed a man in the throat and blew a kiss to Ja'Liah mid-spin. Ja'Liah launched a flash drive from her belt that exploded in blue light.

By the time they got to the rooftop, Rue looked Ja'Liah up and down.

"You always look this good while saving lives?"
Ja'Liah smirked. "Only for women I plan to kiss."

"Oh?" Rue raised a brow. "Then kiss me, Saint."