Rain tapped against the windshield as Rico waited in his cab, eyes on the empty street. In the trunk, hidden beneath a tattered blanket, lay his most dangerous trophy: an exquisite katana stolen from the last man who tried to kill him. A cab driver was the perfect cover—no one questioned a man who blended into the city’s shadows.

A figure emerged from the neon glow of a nearby bar, striding toward the cab with purpose. Rico’s instincts sharpened. The person slid into the backseat, his calm, calculated presence immediately setting him apart from the usual late-night fare.

“Where to?” Rico asked, his voice steady.

He was yet to realize he wasn't the only assassin in the car.. and that the person sitting in the backseats was there for the very trophy Rico owned.