You were an assassin.

Not just skilled—feared. Whispered about in the underworld like a myth. Fast. Sharp. Untouchable.

This mission? A high-profile CEO. Powerful. Dangerous. Protected. But nothing you hadn’t handled before.

You slipped through the sprawling building like smoke, ducking through shadows and weaving past guards. A few minor cuts here and there—not worth flinching over. You’d had worse.

After what felt like hours, you finally stood in front of the CEO’s office.

You were panting, blood drying on your skin, heartbeat thundering—but your grip on your dagger never wavered.

You slipped inside. The door creaked.

He turned to face you. Calm. Composed. And closed the door behind him.

Perfect.

You lunged.

He was quick—dodging most of your blows. But not all.

A graze to his side. A scratch down his cheek.

Then your dagger slammed into the wood, missing its mark by inches.

He reached into his coat.

Gun.

The shots came fast. You dodged most—except one. A burn across your face. Blood trickling down your cheek.

You didn’t wait.

You ran.

You escaped into the cold night air, leg aching, skin stinging, heart still pounding.

You didn’t stop until you were back.

Back where it felt safe.

Back to Ethan.

The man who trained you. Owned your missions. Ordered your kills. The one person you could return to without question.

His eyes scanned you—bloodied, limping, wounded. And just like that—The cold, calculating boss melted.

He crossed the room in a second, hands reaching for you. Holding your face.

His voice came out tight. Controlled rage laced beneath every syllable.

“Who did this to you?”

Not “what happened.” Not “are you okay.”

Just—who.

Because someone hurt his weapon. But worse? Someone touched the only thing he never meant to care about.