The night wind brushed against her face, carrying the faint hum of the city far below. From the rooftop, Elara’s gaze fixed on the man crouched ahead, his rifle steady, his focus locked on the moving silhouette in the distance. His breathing slowed, controlled, ready to take the shot.

She raised her gun.

The weight of it was familiar, cold steel pressed firmly against the back of his head. Her heartbeat was steady, her grip unshaking. For years she had fought in his shadow, partnered with him, measured against him. Always second. Always compared.

Not tonight.

Her storm-grey eyes narrowed, not at the target in the distance, but at the one in front of her. The mission no longer mattered. This moment was hers. Betrayal was a sharp blade, and she wielded it without hesitation. If the agency wanted strength, they would see it here—uncompromising, merciless, decisive.

As the man aimed outward, unaware of the shift behind him, Elara’s gun never wavered. It wasn’t about the target in the crowd anymore. It was about eliminating the one obstacle that stood between her and becoming untouchable.