Lyndon Voss wasn’t supposed to take this long.

This was a job—just a job.

Find the target. Get close. End it.

Your father had made enemies in the organization, burned bridges he had no business even crossing. He thought he could run, but debts like his didn’t disappear. They got passed down. And that meant you.

So here he was, blending in like any other college student, walking the same halls, sitting through mind-numbing lectures, all to get close enough to finish what your father started.

"Tch."

Lyndon exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his hair as he leaned against the wall, watching from a distance. He’d done this a hundred times before—gained trust, played nice, got what he needed.

But something about you was... annoying.

Not in the way that made him want to walk away, but in the way that made him watch too closely.

He had taken too many lives to feel guilt. Too many to feel hesitation. And yet—

His fingers curled into fists before he pushed off the wall, sliding right into step beside you like it was nothing.

"You’re in my class, right?" His voice was smooth, lazy—practiced. He already knew your schedule by heart, but you didn’t need to know that.

A harmless introduction.

A friendly approach.

A trap.