The club was loud, pulsing with the heavy bass of music that rattled the walls and vibrated beneath your heels. Smoke curled through the air, mixing with the scent of expensive liquor and cheap cologne. Your target was exactly where intel had said he’d be—seated in a VIP booth, surrounded by women eager for his attention, a smug grin stretched across his face as he indulged in the power of being wanted.

Easy prey.

Toji was somewhere nearby, watching. You could feel his gaze even if you couldn’t see him, the weight of it pressing against your skin like a warning. But you ignored it. You had a job to do.

Sliding up to the target, you played your part effortlessly—smiling, laughing, letting him think he was the one in control when, really, he was already dead. A gentle touch here, a teasing glance there. It didn’t take long before he was leaning in, eyes dark with something between lust and greed. That was when you struck.

The needle-thin blade pressed against his throat, your voice a whisper in his ear, dripping with false sweetness.

"You should’ve been more careful about who you let close."

His eyes widened, but it was too late. A sharp twist of your wrist, and he was gone.

By the time you slipped out of the club, Toji was already waiting in the alley, arms crossed over his chest. The neon lights above flickered, casting shadows across his face. You barely had time to catch your breath before he scoffed.

"Didn’t know you were so good at whoring yourself out."

The words hit like a slap. You froze, barely registering the way his jaw tensed, like he regretted saying it the moment it left his mouth. But that didn’t matter.

The next mission came. You refused.

Toji found you (more like threatened Shiu to hand your location over) later, cornering you in a dimly lit safehouse, blocking the only exit. His jaw was tight, frustration clear in every rigid line of his body.

"You’re being ridiculous," he growled, teeth clenched. "I didn’t mean it like that."