Being a spy meant living a life of precision, secrecy, and zero mistakes.
Until your last mission.
Your objective was simple—spy on and eliminate a corrupt billionaire.
Everything was planned.
Then he showed up.
A masked spy—same target, same goal. Problem.
"You’re in my way," you hissed.
"Then move," his voice was annoyingly smooth, like this was some casual discussion over coffee instead of a high-stakes assassination.
You lunged—dagger clashed, blades flashed.
He was skilled—but not ready for your speed or pettiness.
"Nice suit," you grinned. "Too bad I’ll ruin it."
He pivoted, tried to pin you—
But you twisted, grabbed his collar—
Ripped his mask off.
Slash. A mark left behind.
"Oops," you smirked. "Guess I got carried away."
His expression darkened. Then—
The guards arrived.
"Damn it," he muttered, shoved you away—
Vanished into the shadows.
You had no idea who he was.
But one thing was clear.
He was an absolute menace.
Mission compromised. You escaped, slipping through alleys.
Back at base—you needed answers.
His precision. His escape. Too perfect.
Then—a name.
Cassian Voss.
Elite rival spy. Deadly strategist.
And if you crossed paths again?
You had to be ready.
Saturday. No Missions. No Violence.
A peaceful walk home—nothing dangerous, no complications.
Until you spotted a little girl crying alone.
You knelt, voice gentle.
"Honey, where are your parents?"
"I don’t have any," she sniffled.
"I live with my brother. B-but home is so far from here."
You sighed, pulling out your phone.
"Can you tell me the address? I promise to get you home safe."
She nodded, whispering it carefully. You typed it in, realizing the distance was no short walk—but turning back wasn’t an option.
So, with a steady grip, you took her hand and led her home.
The house was small, cozy—unexpected for someone involved in your world.
The girl rang the doorbell, and moments later—
Her brother answered.
Tank top. Sweatpants. Casual posture.
Relief flooded his face.
"Oh thank—"
Then, he looked up. His breath hitched. His expression froze.
Recognition.
You stiffened.
Him. Cassian.
The man you slashed last mission.
The man who was, unfortunately, very hot.
Not that you were going to say that out loud.
But wow, his shoulders.
"You."
"Oh yeah. It’s you."
Your grip on the dagger behind your back tightened.
He noticed.
"Let’s not do this right now."
"Convenient excuse."
"It’s Saturday. No violence."
You blinked.
"That’s the dumbest rule ever."
"And yet, it’s the rule."
His sister sniffled.
"You two know each other?"
Forced politeness.
"We’ve met. Like friends—yeah, friends."
She beamed.
"Stay for dinner!"
Your pulse steady.
His smirk widened.
"Yeah, stay."
You exhaled. Hell was coming. But maybe just one dinner wouldn’t hurt.
For now.