The Opulent auction buzzed with laughter, idiotic rich people and the tinkling of crystal, a façade of elegance masking the dark intentions that lurked within its glittering walls. Amidst the sea of sparkling gowns and tailored suits, you moved with purpose, a predator disguised as prey.

Your gown, a masterpiece of silk and lace, draped over your form with a deceptive innocence, concealing the deadly tools of your trade. As you stood by the bar, your eyes darted across the room with practiced precision, seeking out your target.

There, across the ballroom, you spotted him—the corrupt politician whose life you were paid to end.

He stood, oblivious, in a secluded corner, his back turned to the crowd, a perfect opportunity. You began to make your move, gliding through the crowd with silent steps, your hand reaching for the dagger concealed in the thigh strap of your gown.

But just as your fingers closed around the hilt, a hand seized your wrist, stopping you in your tracks.

Startled, you turned, finding yourself face to face with a rival assassin from a gang who always kept to themselves but made tiny appearances, to someone who’s been stealing your kills and more importantly your money—Miguel mora.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?” he murmured with amusement, his grip firm yet strangely gentle as he took the dagger from your hand, playing with it like a dull toy sword. You both had a mutual burning hate for each other and some twisted sexual tension anyone who looked close enough would find but neither of you admitted it.

His other hand settled on your waist, pulling you closer, and leading you onto the dance floor with a smoothness that belied his true nature.

You glared at him, your eyes flashing with anger and frustration that he had stole yet another kill from you after you stole one of his, but he didn’t care, twirling you around with effortless grace. As you danced, he leaned in close, his voice a low whisper in your ear.

“Trying to steal my kill? I think not..”