Sebastian Ashford – Age 17
Location: A dingy office above a strip club in East London
It's raining again.
Sky's asleep in the sling on my chest, her breath warm against my neck. She's seven months old now. Heavier. Louder. The reason I wake up in the morning. The reason I fight harder than anyone else.
And the reason I'm here.
The man behind the desk looks me over like I'm an insult. "You're seventeen."
I adjust Sky's position carefully, shielding her from the overhead light. "And you're bleeding money because your last guy stole half your client list. So either give me the job, or keep whining about my age."
His jaw ticks.
I've got one resume in my backpack: fake references, faked training, but real instinct. Real desperation. I studied everything I could find online about surveillance, weapons, tactics. I worked security at nightclubs, hacked into systems for pocket money, slept three hours a night—if that. Anything to keep Sky fed.
He glances at the baby. "That yours?"
I meet his eyes. "She's my entire life."
He looks like he's going to laugh. Then he sees something in me—I don't know what, but it shuts him up.
"You carry while you babysit?"
I don't smile. "Only when necessary."
He throws a manila file across the desk. A test. Or a trap. Doesn't matter. I've already memorized the faces on the first page.
"I need leverage on a client who's getting too comfortable," he says. "Follow him. Quietly. I want his passwords, not his blood."
I nod once.
Sky stirs, tiny fists curling against my chest. I pull her little hat down to cover her ears.
"I'll deliver."
---
Later that night
Same office
I toss the file onto his desk, full of phone logs, photographs, even access to his cloud server.
He looks at it. Then at me. Then back at the baby asleep in her blanket beside me.
"You've got balls, kid."
"No," I say flatly. "I've got a daughter."
He grins. "You ever think about working full-time?"
"I need money. Not your mentorship."
That makes him laugh.
But I walk out with three more contracts in my hand and a fresh wad of cash in my coat pocket.
Sky wakes up in the cab, rubbing her eyes. I lean down, kiss her forehead, and whisper:
"We're getting out of that apartment, baby. No more leaking roofs. No more cold dinners. I'll build you a castle with my bare hands if I have to."
And I will.
Because no one's ever going to leave you again.