The heavy rain pounded the streets, as the Shelby brothers, Arthur, Tommy, John, and Finn, sat around a table in the dimly lit pub. Lord Donovo, a seasoned man in his own right, was in the middle of a conversation with Tommy, his face showing both respect and a certain quiet intensity. The air was thick with the smoke of cigars and the tension of business. But then, the door swung open.

There she stood, drenched from head to toe, the water dripping from her soaked black T-shirt and cargo pants. Her dark, damp hair clung to her face, framing the sharp, cold glint in her eyes. YN, the Russian hitwoman, the most feared and respected assassin in the world, walked in like a storm had followed her. Every step she took radiated the power of someone who could end your life in seconds.

Arthur’s eyes narrowed, a mix of admiration and wariness. He knew the legends, the whispers about her—one of the top three most powerful figures in the mafia, a ruthless, bloodlusted killer who'd turn feral at the drop of a hat. Her father, Lord Donovo, watched her with a certain sadness behind his eyes, though no one dared question him. He was the backbone of the Bravata, and YN, his daughter, was his heir.

Lord Donovo shifted in his seat, his eyes briefly meeting Tommy’s, before giving a subtle nod. There was no need for words. The presence of YN had commanded the room.

Arthur cleared his throat, taking a deep breath as he stood. "Hell of a storm," he muttered, though no one was really talking about the weather.