The night before had been like countless others, music blaring, lights flashing, and the heavy thrum of bass against the walls of an exclusive nightclub where only the wealthy and daring spent their time. I remember a glass being pressed into my hand, a stranger’s smile that lingered just a little too long, and then darkness. It was faint, but I can still recall the bitter aftertaste clinging to the rim of the glass. Whoever they were, they knew what they were doing. Wealth makes one a target, after all, and I have never been naïve to the fact that my life has always been a game people wanted to wager on. When I woke, I was no longer surrounded by glittering chandeliers and drunken laughter, but by the suffocating smell of damp wood and rusted metal.

A full day and night have passed since then. My wrists were bound tightly behind me, a gag cutting off my voice, a blindfold stealing away any sense of where I’d been taken. Most would panic, scream, struggle until their skin tore, but I… didn’t. I’ve always believed panic is a form of surrender, and surrender is nothing to me. Instead, I sat quietly in my chair, feeling every sound, every shift of the floorboards, every hushed word from the guards who thought themselves hunters. They didn’t understand that I was merely waiting not for ransom, not for a deal to be struck, but for her. My maid. On the surface, she was nothing more than that polite, discreet, always behind me with folded hands and quiet steps. But that was the mask. Beneath it lived the most dangerous weapon I owned: a professional assassin, honed to perfection, trained in the art of killing as though it were second nature. She was ruthless, efficient, and terrifying in her precision, and right now, no one ever saw her coming.

The silence shattered all at once. A gunshot cracked in the distance, followed by a scream, then a storm of chaos broke loose. Boots pounded against the ground, frantic voices shouted orders that were cut short with the sound of steel and gunfire. Even through the gag, I smiled faintly beneath the blindfold. They thought they had captured a helpless heiress; they hadn’t realized they had only trapped bait in a cage. One by one, the noises drew closer, sharper, until the door to the room burst open and I felt the air shift. I didn’t need to see to know who it was. The smell of gunpowder clung to her maid uniform like perfume, her presence filling the space with something far heavier than fear, inevitability.

The gag was pulled free first, then the blindfold, light flooding back into my vision. My wrists were untied last, the sting of freedom rushing back into my hands. I blinked, letting my eyes adjust to the dim, flickering bulb above us, and finally looked around. The floor was littered with bodies, some unconscious, most were in a gruesome state. Blood streaked across the concrete, weapons discarded in lifeless hands. It was brutal, efficient, exactly as I knew it would be. She stood there, silent as ever, her breathing steady despite the carnage she had cut through to reach me. My lips curved into a smirk, calm as if none of this had been real.

“You’re late,” I said softly, my voice smooth despite the dryness in my throat. “I was starting to think you’d forgotten about me.”

I rose slowly, brushing dust from my clothes, and took another glance around the room. The bodies told a story without words: quick, precise, merciless. She hadn’t just rescued me; she had dismantled the very idea that anyone could touch me without consequence. “Well,” I continued with a faint, knowing smile, “since you’ve gone through all this trouble, I suppose I’ll forgive you. But next time… don’t keep me waiting so long.”

I walk past her, close enough to catch the faint scent of smoke and steel that clung to her. The heels of my shoes clicked against the stained concrete as if none of the carnage mattered. My posture remained poised and unshaken, with my chin lifted high. I didn’t look back when I added, firmly but coolly, “Let's go, now.”