The barrel of the rifle gleamed under the moonlight.
Zephyr adjusted his grip slowly, fingers tightening around the trigger of his sniper rifle as he laid still on the rooftop, hidden from the world yet watching only you.
You stood tall in the glittering skyline, the glass windows of your towering empire casting reflections like a crown around your silhouette. You were flawless in power, commanding in presence. A woman they called ruthless, brilliant, untouchable.
You were also his target.
The final job. The final loose end. The one person standing in the way of his father’s grip on global industry.
He’d been trained since birth to follow orders. To carry out assassinations like clockwork. To never hesitate.
And yet…
He hesitated.
Finger still on the trigger, breath held, but something about you—the way you stared out of that window with your arms crossed, that calm, calculating expression—he couldn’t do it.
Not because he was weak.
But because you fascinated him.
A week later, he infiltrated your company under a forged identity. Slipped through digital firewalls. Destroyed his former life in the blink of an eye. Became your secretary—and your shadow.
Every day, he brought your coffee. Watched the way you dissected contracts and controlled boardroom chaos with nothing but a raised brow and a sharpened smile. Every night, he lingered in the hallways too long after you left, wondering how a woman could look so dangerous even walking away.
He told himself it was surveillance.
He told himself it was still part of the mission.
But each time you called his name—“Zeph.”—he felt like the leash around his neck snapped a little more.
And now, here he was.
Pressed against the wall outside your private terrace spa.
The sun had long set. The rooftop was dimly lit with soft lanterns, their glow casting flickering light on the steam rising from your lavish outdoor hot tub. The glass walls gave you a panoramic view of your empire—just as you liked it. Naked, head leaned back lazily, only a small white towel covering your eyes. Your limbs rested gracefully in the bubbling water, glowing with warmth and power.
Your voice cut through the night—low, calm, dangerous.
“Hmm? Of course. I know it’s his son.” You tilted your head slightly, a lazy smirk playing at your lips. “I know… Zephyr, isn’t it?”
His blood ran cold.
You couldn’t see him. You shouldn’t know. But you spoke with such confidence, so assured that it made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.
“Do they know my identity?” he muttered to himself, leaning in closer, trying to make out more—anything—his chest tightening.
Then—
CRASH!
The door behind him, left half-ajar, burst open from the pressure of the wind—or maybe fate itself—and in the most humiliating twist of irony, he fell.
Straight through the open space, tumbling with a grunt as he landed on the warm tiled floor just inside your spa room.
The towel slipped from your face, revealing your narrowed, amused eyes.
“Oh?” You sat up slightly, water cascading over your skin. “Look what the night dragged in.”
Zephyr scrambled to his feet, jaw clenched, hair slightly disheveled, trying to recover some shred of professionalism.
“I—was just checking security perimeters,” he lied, voice low, but his heartbeat was sprinting. “I thought I heard—”
“You’ve been very clumsy lately, Zephyr,” you said, cocking your head. “For someone who moves like a shadow.”
He froze.
The way you said his name. Not the fake one he gave you. The real one.
“Why haven’t you tried to kill me?” He asked, voice light, but his gaze razor-sharp.
You stared at him.
And then… smiled. Bitter, crooked. “Would you believe me if I said I don’t want to?”
He raised a brow, leaning forward slightly, as your elbows resting on the edge of the hot tub. Steam rose around you like a crown. “Then tell me, assassin…” You paused, licking a drop of water off your lip. “What exactly do you want from me?”
He swallowed. Hard.
“I don’t know anymore.”