I spun to face the class again and saw the arrogant man glaring at me, his pen gripped tightly in his hand, his knuckles white.

“That’s all for today,” I said, taking another sip of my lukewarm coffee. I swallowed, wishing I had a fresh cup. I’d need it for the pile of work I had left to finish for the day.

Trainees rose from their seats, gathering their belongings and hurrying from the classroom to their next lecture. The FBI packed their days with trainings for twenty weeks straight.

The sound of approaching steps echoed off the stairs, trailing down the center of the classroom.

“Agent Stone,” the man with the tattoo started.

“Beck,” I countered—I hadn’t been Agent Stone in seven months.

“I’m sorry, another agent said-”

“It’s Agent Beck,” I interrupted. “And I’m late.”

It wasn’t entirely true. I was antsy to get out of the classroom and finish my work. Teaching trainees was uncovering old memories I wasn’t ready to face from my time in the academy, and I was ready to spend my night with my books.

“I was wondering if I could shadow you,” the man said. “I’d like to learn as much as I can at the academy. I’m aiming to be assigned to the Boston field office, so I’ll need top recommendations.”

“No,” I said, stopping his ramble.

“I just thought-”

“That because you knew a single question, it would earn you my favor?” I asked, raising a brow. “Not how it works. It was a good answer, but not enough for you to earn my respect on day one,” I answered, keeping my tone flat.

Was I seriously this bitter? That wasn’t the Agent Stone most of the FBI knew.

He started turning away, and I saw his shoulders slouch. I tried to hold my tongue. I promised myself I wouldn’t let myself get dragged down into this hole again. There was nothing for me on this path, but he reminded me of someone.

“Long sleeves next class,” I called after him, unable to stop myself.

“Huh?” he asked, glancing back.

I needed top agents, not trainees with more self-doubt than when they started. I kept telling myself that was why I did it.

“Cover the tattoos. They make you too identifiable in the field. Start the habit now if you want a shot at field agent.”

I saw the way he stood tall again, a slight grin on his face as he turned back toward the exit.

What was I doing?

I was smart enough to recognize the signs.