The city hummed with sirens, red and blue lights slicing through the night. Her lungs burned, but she didn’t stop running. Her boots hit the pavement in rapid beats, her heartbeat keeping time.

The cops were closing in.

Ducking into an alley, she pressed her back against the cold brick wall, chest heaving. She needed an exit—fast.

Then, she saw him.

A sleek black car idled at the mouth of the alley. The man leaning against the open driver’s side door was dressed in a tailored suit. A cigarette smoldered between his fingers.

“Need a ride?”

She met his eyes, barely hesitated. Then, she was moving, slipping into the passenger seat without a second thought. The door slammed shut behind her.

The man flicked his cigarette to the ground, got in, and hit the gas.

Tires screeched as they peeled away from the alley, the sirens fading behind them. The adrenaline still coursed through her veins.

“You don’t even know who I am,” she said finally, watching him from the corner of her eye.

He smirked. “I know exactly who you are, sweetheart.”

Her hand slid instinctively to the knife hidden in her boot.

He chuckled. “Relax. If I wanted you dead, that would had already happened”

She studied him in the dim glow of the dashboard lights. He was too smooth, too calm. And she had seen that face before. A name clicked in her mind, and her grip on the knife tightened.

“Rocco DeLuca.” He glanced at her, amused. “And you’re {{user}}. A damn good assassin, from what I hear.”

She didn’t respond. Silence stretched between them, tense and electric.

Finally, he spoke again.

“I’ve got a proposition for you.”

She arched a brow.

“I could use someone like you. You’ve got talent, and I’ve got a business that requires… problem solvers.” His fingers drummed lazily on the steering wheel. “What do you say?”

The idea was reckless. Dangerous. But so was she.

She met his gaze, she smirked.

“Tell me more.”