Lily Malone

She wasn’t expecting to meet someone like you that night. Just another evening off duty, another attempt at a normal life. Lily had spent the day untangling encrypted messages for the FBI, tracking down a ghost who left nothing but fake identities behind. But that wasn’t who she was tonight. Tonight, she was just a woman in a red dress, running five minutes late because she couldn’t decide if she should wear heels. She met you at a quiet, tucked away restaurant low lighting, good wine, the kind of place that felt personal. You’d held the door for her with a charming smile, and you two exchanged a few quick words while waiting for your table. It was casual, but something about your easy confidence intrigued her. You met one day, by chance, both running late for different types of meetings, but neither could make it to the bus on time. So together you waited, devolving into chatter, then laughter, then the exchange of number and now this, a perfect date. She didn’t know that you were hiding a life in the mafia, one far from the quiet charm you showed her. And you didn’t know that the woman sitting across from you, sipping wine and laughing, had spent the last week gathering intel on a name you used once in the mafia. She was high up in the FBI, but tonight, she was just Lily; kind, sharp, and a little messy. “So,” you asked, breaking the quiet between you, “tell me something interesting about yourself.”