Elise blinked twice and thrust the accident from her mind. Psych evals were mind games—as were all the tests.

“Chase,” she responded tightly. No way would she say crash. That crash had killed her partner two years ago and put her in the hospital for the first time. The doctor paused, scribbled something, then looked back up. “Family.”

“Demanding.”

Another raise of eyebrows from the good doctor. He must be new or her responses wouldn’t have affected him in the least.

“Dance.”

“Partner.”

And so it went for the next ten minutes.

“Torwoodlee Castle.”

Elise blinked. How had he discovered her identity? Had Nigel filled him in? She had changed her name when she joined MI6, and Uncle Roger had sealed her records. Only a few had any idea she was the daughter of the Marquess of Roxbury and niece to Sir Roger Morriston from the Home Office.

“Torwoodlee Castle,” the doctor repeated.

Elise glanced at the mirrored wall where Nigel and at least one other spymaster observed her tests. “Albatross,” she bit out and fisted her hands, her fingernails digging into her palms.

“Anders Gilmont.”

Her lungs froze, and chills slithered across her flesh. She couldn’t breathe.

Focus. This is a test. He’s trying to trip you up.

“Anders Gilmont.”

She narrowed her eyes, and her blood simmered. “Criminal.” Killer. Sadist. Monster, her mind screamed.

“Scotland.”

“Home,” Elise answered. No sense pretending. He clearly knew who she was.

After the rest of her psych evaluations, she took to the firing range, eager to blow off the frustrations her assessment had dredged up. Lulling the testee into a false sense of security was part and parcel for these tests. But on the range, she came to life, geared for the unexpected.

A small screen popped up, the size of a child. She held her fire, her eyes sweeping the gallery. To the far right, just on the edge of her peripheral vision . . . movement. She turned and fired.

Before her target fell, another sprang up. Elise hit the ground and rolled behind a stack of tires, discharging her weapon. The target went down.

She scanned the range, then narrowed her focus. It wasn’t movement exactly, merely a puff of dislodged air. She waited, her instincts on high alert.

There it was again, this time much closer. Elise crept forward, keeping her body under full cover. She popped up and squeezed the trigger.

Red lights flashed.

“End of test,” proclaimed an automated voice.

Elise removed her cartridge and returned her weapon to the table.

“Nicely done, Agent Taylor.” Nigel’s voice came through the overhead speakers. “Pool.”

Elise nodded and proceeded to the locker room to suit up for her one-mile swim. MI6 planned to exhaust her before her special skills test. Lovely.

But the physical drills weren’t nearly as concerning as the psych eval. Why had they asked her about Torwoodlee Castle? Who had leaked that information to the psychologist?