Page 60 of Shadow Burn

Katherine crossed her arms. “I have an active federal conspiracy to unravel. I don’t have time for games.”

“This is not a game. This is a tactical neurological reset.”

Her mouth curved before she could stop it. “Is that so?”

“It’s a real term. Ask Vivi. She taught it to me.”

She looked at the table, then at the paddle in his hand. The deadline still sat inside her chest. The fear still sat beneath it.

But so did a spark of competition, and that felt blessedly alive. “Five minutes,” she said. “I can beat you in five minutes or less, and then I’m going back to work.”

Jasper’s smile was slow enough to be dangerous. “There she is. Ping-pong princess.”

She snatched the other paddle from the table. “Serve.”

He did.

The ball snapped across the table, fast and low, and Katherine’s stiff body responded before her mind could interfere. She stepped right, wrist turning, and sent it back cross-court with more force than she expected.

Jasper got to it easily. He moved like a man who’d been trained to trust his body in far more dangerous circumstances than a ping-pong match. His return skimmed the net.

She caught it on the bounce and sent it to his backhand.

His eyebrows rose. “Okay.”

“Did you think I was lying?”

“I thought you were exaggerating.”

“That was your mistake.”

The point went on long enough for her lungs to wake up. The ball clicked against the table, then against paddles, then table again, quick and rhythmic. She’d forgotten the sound and the satisfaction of tracking speed, spin, angle, and weakness all at once. It wasn’t paperwork. It wasn’t survival. It wasn’t the shape of a masked man’s mouth or the wording of an Agency memo. It was a white ball, a green table, and Jasper Perault across from her with focus narrowing his eyes.

He won the point.

Katherine stared at the ball as it rolled under the table. “That was warm-up.”

“Convenient, princess.”

She retrieved the ball and served before he finished smirking.

Jasper was quicker, more athletic, and far too smug when he placed the ball exactly where she had to stretch for it.

Katherine was more precise, more strategic, and ruthless enough to aim for the corner where his paddle lagged by a fraction when she drew him too far left. He won the first game by two points, and the satisfaction on his face was completely unacceptable.

“No,” she said.

He leaned on his paddle. “No?”

“Rematch.”

“I thought you had documents to save.”

“I do. After I destroy you.”

He laughed, and the sound moved through her with more force than it should have. She ignored it and served hard.

The second game was better because she stopped trying to be careful. Her sweater sleeves slid down over her hands twice before she shoved them to her elbows. Her hair came loose from its knot and fell around her face. She missed one shot because she was laughing too hard at Jasper’s offended expression when Priss chose that moment to leap off the couch onto the table and bat the ball under a chair.