VECTOR IN DC

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Dante raised a hand, signaling to his men to stand down as a few of them shifted nervously nearby. "You're right," he admitted, his tone still annoyingly calm. "Let's get to the point."

Miguel took over, his voice as smooth as ever. "We've been having... difficulties. Our shipments keep getting intercepted. No matter how we change the timing or location, the Feds always seem to know where we'll be."

As he spoke, my mind flashed to the intel we'd gotten before coming here. Ghost had already filled us in on most of this, but hearing it from the source confirmed the suspicions. There was a rat in their ranks, and their organization was crumbling from within.

"Has the thought of a mole crossed your mind?" Slade asked, his tone neutral, but his eyes sharp as he scanned their faces for any tells.

Dante nodded. "Of course. But my inner circle is tight. I trust every single one of them with my life."

I scoffed, leaning back in my chair. "How about that guy?" I asked, pointing to the tattooed bodyguard standing silently behind them. He had the look of someone who enjoyed breaking bones, but his poker face was solid.

Dante laughed, a deep, genuine sound. "Pedro? No. We did time together. He's like a brother to me."

Before I could respond, a young woman entered the room carrying a tray. She set down a bottle of whiskey and four glasses on the table, her movements precise and practiced. Dante, ever the gracious host, offered Slade a Cuban cigar to ease the tension.

Normally, I'd refuse something like this. It's not exactly professional to smoke and drink during an op. But after the day we'd had, I figured, why not? I signaled for a cigar and poured myself a drink. The woman went around lighting our cigars one by one until the room was filled with the faint aroma of tobacco.

Slade held off on drinking for now, keeping his guard up. I followed his lead, keeping an eye on the ice in my glass, watching for any signs of tampering.

Dante took a long sip of his whiskey before speaking again. "We did have someone inside the FBI, but he's gone rogue. Refuses to take our money anymore. Now, he's the one helping them hit our operations."

I leaned forward, placing my drink back on the table. "That's great and all, but I've got one question," I said, locking eyes with Miguel. "Why did we go through all that trouble to meet this guy"—I gestured to Dante—"when you've been with us the whole time, Miguel? You're the real boss, aren't you?"

The room froze. Dante and Pedro's eyes widened, their shock written all over their faces. Miguel, on the other hand, just smirked, lifting his glass in a silent toast.

Slade sighed, rubbing his temples. "You're just figuring that out now?" he muttered, giving me an unimpressed look. "You're slower than I thought."

"Huh?" I blinked at him, caught off guard.

He smirked, clearly enjoying himself. "Amateur."

"Oh, yeah?" I shot back, annoyed. "When did you figure it out?"

"Back at the restaurant," he said with a shrug. "I was waiting to see how long it would take."

Miguel laughed, setting his glass down. "You two are quite the pair. No one's ever figured it out before now."

Dante nodded, raising his glass. "Ghost sent the right people for the job, that's for sure."

I didn't bother hiding my grin as I picked up my drink. This was about to get interesting.

….

Dick Grayson tied the last knot of his apron behind his back, standing at the dinner table to survey his work. The warm aroma of roasted vegetables, garlic bread, and freshly baked lasagna filled the cozy apartment. Candlelight flickered gently on the walls, adding a soft glow to the dimly lit dining room. He adjusted the silverware for the third time, making sure everything was in its perfect place.

"Whew, finally done," he muttered, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. Exhaustion lingered in his voice, but a sense of pride softened the edge.

"Whew, finally done," he muttered, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. Exhaustion lingered in his voice, but a sense of pride softened the edge.

From behind him, a familiar voice chimed in. "Great, because I am starving." Kori's melodic tone carried a hint of playfulness as she walked into the room. She was radiant, as always, her fiery hair glowing like embers in the candlelight. Before taking her seat, she planted a light kiss on Dick's cheek.

Dick tossed his apron over the kitchen door handle and caught her by the arm just as she was about to sit. His other hand found its way to her waist, pulling her close. "Wait, babe," he said gently. His dark blue eyes searched hers with concern. "Can you check on Rachel first? She hasn't been out of her room much lately. I'm starting to worry about her."

Kori tilted her head, her brows knitting together. "Isn't that just Rachel being… well, Rachel? She's always been a little introverted."

"Yeah," Dick admitted, his voice softer now, "but it feels different this time. She's been spending way more time alone. She needs someone to talk to, and she's more likely to open up to you than to me." He smiled faintly, brushing a stray lock of hair from Kori's face.

"Okay, okay." She sighed but returned his smile. "You're lucky you're so cute when you worry."

Dick leaned down and kissed her lips briefly before letting her go. "Thanks, babe."

As Kori approached Rachel's room, she hesitated at the door. A strange quietness seeped through the crack under it, the kind of stillness that felt heavier than usual. Kori raised her knuckles to knock but paused, her lips pressing into a thin line. Come on, Kori. It's just Rachel. She rapped gently on the door.

Knock… Knock.

"Rachel? Are you in there?" she called out. "Why don't you come downstairs for dinner? Dick worked hard on it." She waited, but the silence persisted. Kori frowned and tried again, louder this time. "Rachel?"

Still nothing.

"Okay, I'm coming in," she warned. Slowly, she swung the door open, stepping into the dimly lit room. Her heart sank at the sight. Rachel lay sprawled on her bed, her head dangling over the edge, dark hair cascading to the floor like a black waterfall. Her usually sharp, piercing gaze was dulled, fixed on nothing in particular.

"Rachel?" Kori asked, her voice softer now. "Are you okay?"

Rachel sighed heavily, her shoulders barely rising with the effort. "Not really," she muttered without looking up.

Kori walked over and sat on the edge of the bed, mirroring Rachel's position, their heads nearly upside-down. "What's wrong?" she asked, her tone a careful blend of concern and curiosity.

Rachel hesitated, then sighed again. "Boy drama."

Kori blinked, taken aback. "Boy drama?" she repeated, her voice rising slightly in surprise. "Did he hurt you? Say the word and I'll track him down and beat him to a bloody pulp." Her eyes glowed faintly as she spoke, though her playful tone undercut the threat.

"No," Rachel said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Thanks, but it's not that."

"Then what?" Kori pressed gently.

Rachel finally sat up, pulling her knees to her chest. "It's Tom," she admitted, her voice tinged with frustration. "He's been so distant lately, and it's driving me crazy."

Kori raised an eyebrow. "Distant how?"

Rachel ran a hand through her hair, her fingers trembling slightly. "He doesn't text back as much. We barely see ourselves lately, I don't know... I just feel like something's wrong. What if he doesn't like me anymore? What if he's... seeing someone else?" Her voice cracked on the last words, and she buried her face in her hands.

Kori stared at her, stunned. "Rachel. For someone who has battled demons and taken down intergalactic warlords, I can't believe you're letting a boy make you sound so… defeated."

Rachel peeked through her fingers, her cheeks already starting to flush. "He's not just a boy," she said quietly. "He's…" She paused, her pale skin turning a delicate shade of pink.

Kori's eyes widened, and a teasing grin spread across her face. "Are you blushing? Oh, you are! This is too cute." She whipped out her phone. "I need a picture of this."

Before Kori could snap a photo, Rachel waved her hand, and the phone flew out of Kori's grasp, landing softly on the bed.

"For you to be acting this way, he must be something special," Kori said, still smiling.

Rachel nodded, her blush deepening. "He is. He's… different. I've never met anyone like him. I don't want to meet anyone else. Just him."

"Girls!" Dick's voice called from downstairs. "Dinner's getting cold!"

Kori stood, brushing off her jeans. "Well, you heard him. Let's eat first, and tomorrow morning, you'll go see him. Talk to him. Find out what's really going on."

Rachel looked up at her hesitantly. "You think I should?"

Kori offered her hand with a warm smile. "Yes. But first, food. You'll need your strength for all the emotional chaos tomorrow."

Rachel groaned. "I don't have an appetite."

Kori grabbed Rachel by the wrist and practically hauled her off the bed. "For a girl who can fly, you're making me do way too much heavy lifting."

Rachel let out a small laugh despite herself. "Fine. But don't expect me to eat much."

"I'll take what I can get," Kori replied, dragging her toward the stairs. "Now let's go before Dick burns the lasagna reheating it."

And with that, the two made their way to the dinner table, where warmth, food, and a little slice of family awaited.