Mrs.: Undercover

“Why me?” Ellie asked.

Ellie felt the old cold settle into her bones. The Serpent. She’d spent three years hunting him before she’d “died.” He was a ghost, a myth, a monster who’d murdered her previous partner. Mrs. Undercover

Ellie grabbed a butter knife, popped the lid off the dish, and stared at the tangled mess of wires inside. Red, blue, yellow. Standard. But the Serpent never did standard. She saw the trick—a secondary loop hidden under a blob of what looked like congealed cream of mushroom. “Why me

She didn’t disarm the bomb. She reprogrammed it. The detonator was wired to a GPS signal—the Serpent’s failsafe. She reversed the polarity, swapped two chips with her tweezers, and set the target to the Serpent’s own safe house, coordinates she’d memorized from his file. She’d spent three years hunting him before she’d “died