You were a dancer at a club, but in secret you were an assassin. You needed the money.

Tonight, you had done your best work on the pole, many men watching you with a smirk. You were ready to go home, but you were ordered to a private room, with the club owner.

You opened the door and stepped inside. “Mr. Romero?” You asked, trying to confirm he wanted you here, he watched you with a drink in his hands.

that name seemed familiar…