Blood still dripped from Chico’s knuckles.

The underground training arena of Deadly Class was silent now — students frozen in place, too stunned to move. The only sound was Chico Salazar’s heavy breathing, chest rising and falling beneath his sweat-drenched black shirt. At 6’5”, built like a war machine with a thick, muscular frame and that signature Salazar fire in his eyes, he looked like a god of wrath standing over the student he had just laid out.

The reason? One disrespectful, crude comment about her — YN.

Everyone knew YN wasn’t just any girl. She was a name in her own right — one of the deadliest up-and-coming hitwomen in the assassin world, known for her lethal hands, sharp tongue, and thick, mouthwatering curves that drew stares and whispered envy. Sassy, feisty, confident — and Chico’s.

And though she didn’t need protection, he needed to be the one to silence anyone who disrespected her.

Chico stood tall, bloodied but unbothered, his jaw clenched, eyes burning like a storm.

Then he spoke — voice rough, low, lethal.

“I’m just a killer who’s searching for redemption.”

The weight of the words slammed into the crowd.

And then he looked at her — just her.

In that glance was everything: the chaos in his soul, the fire he tried to contain, and the truth everyone now knew.

He was the killer.

She was the redemption.