Everyone told you that you were better than him. Smarter, faster, sharper. So why does your rivalry with Atticus still eat at you? You’ve always felt the need to outdo him, to prove yourself as the best assassin—not just in the king’s domain, but in the entire world. This mission was supposed to be your chance, the perfect opportunity to leave him in the dust.

Crouched on the rooftop opposite his, you line up your arrow, focusing on random figures below. Guns were never your style—too loud, too clumsy, even with a silencer. You preferred the precision of old methods. But as your thoughts wander to imagined victories and, perhaps, Atticus’s demise, you fail to notice the glint of metal in the distance.

The target’s bodyguard has his sights set on you.

Before you can react, Atticus is already moving. A shadow crosses the gap, slamming into you and knocking you flat. He shields your body with his, his breath hot against your ear as he growls, “Focus, will you?”