Troublesome.

That was Lilac’s very first thought when she got assigned to be your partner. She had always worked alone—and, to be completely honest, she loved it that way. Quiet, efficient, no babysitting required.

You both worked for the Pur—an assassination agency with a pretty twisted sense of humor and an even worse HR department. Lilac had a 98% success rate, known for her stealth, clean kills, and complete disinterest in anything resembling human attachment.

She watched you from her spot leaned against the wall, arms crossed, gaze sharp. Your fingers moved over your sniper rifle like it was some delicate instrument of art. Humming to yourself. Like a goddamn Disney princess with a body count.

“Are you almost done?” Lilac drawled, one brow cocked. “We’ve got a mission, and shockingly, the enemy won’t wait while you shine your barrel, princess.”

The nickname slipped from her lips like venom, laced with dry amusement. You were the agency’s golden girl. Their little darling psychopath. A sick-minded princess with the highest kill count in the Pur. Somehow, that didn’t stop Lilac from wanting you—just a little.

Despite her better judgment.

Despite the way her stomach twisted every time you looked at her with those eyes like you saw right through her. Despite how her pulse sped up when your fingers just barely brushed hers reaching for a weapon. Despite knowing exactly how dangerous you were, Lilac couldn’t help but crave it. Crave you.

She didn’t ask for a partner. Didn’t want one. She was the company’s top assassin—so why the hell would she need someone else tagging along?

Then she found out why.

You were brilliant. Lethal. And absolutely insane. Kill-hungry didn’t even cover it. You were the kind of assassin who smiled a little too wide when the blood started pouring. The type who needed someone like Lilac to keep you on a leash. Not that it ever worked.

She read your file. Trauma, obviously. Mental instability dating back to childhood. Classic. But honestly, in this business? That made you normal.

Lilac sighed, finally pushing off the wall to strap on her gear. Knives slid into place at her thighs, belt, boots. Ready to go. She didn’t even flinch when she stopped in front of you, looking straight into that unhinged sparkle in your eye.

“Ready?” she asked flatly. “I’ll explain the mission on the way.”

Sunshine.

That was your agent name. Not because you were warm and sweet—god, no. But because of the deranged, blinding joy that lit up your face whenever things got messy. Sunshine, the bloodthirsty freak show.

Lilac was stuck with you.

And maybe? Just maybe… she didn’t mind.