Undercover | Mrs.

Ellie’s eyes flicked to Brenda’s hands. The nails were perfectly manicured, but the cuticles were raw—a sign of recent chemical exposure. Her floral dress was designer, but the shoes were combat-grade boots, resoled for silence. And the casserole dish was giving off a faint, rhythmic click .

“I knew you’d come,” a voice slithered from the shadows. The Serpent stepped out. He was thin, elegant, wearing the uniform of a substitute teacher. “I never believed you were dead, Eleanor. Domestic bliss is a far more creative punishment.”

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

“Why me?” Ellie asked.

Brenda met her in the parking lot. “Clean sweep. No civilian casualties.” Ellie’s eyes flicked to Brenda’s hands

By 2:15 PM, Ellie was inside the school’s boiler room, dressed in her PTA-appropriate cardigan and sensible slacks. The Serpent’s bomb was beautiful—a work of art nestled inside a stolen custodial cart. But Ellie wasn’t looking for wires or timers.

“Good.” Ellie watched Leo and Mia climb onto the school bus, safe and oblivious. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a casserole to return.” And the casserole dish was giving off a

Then she walked out, pulling the fire alarm on her way. The sprinklers came on. Kids filed out, laughing, thinking it was a drill.