I didn't believe in attachments. Emotions were a liability, a distraction I couldn't afford. I lived in shadows, solved problems for people who thought money could erase consequences, and left no trace behind. That was my world—until her.
The assignment came at 11:47 PM, delivered to my secure inbox like all the others: a name, a photo, and a single line of instructions.
Find her. Confirm her existence. Eliminate if necessary.
Simple. Professional. Deadly.
The moment I saw the file, something in my chest twisted—a cold warning I hadn't felt in years. That shouldn't have been possible. She wasn't just another target. Her name… it made my mind catch fire with fragments of memory I didn't want to remember.
Iris Vale.
I had hunted her once before. Ten years ago. The file said she'd vanished. Clean. Erased. Never to be found again. And yet here she was. Alive.
I leaned back in my chair, swirling the whiskey I didn't intend to finish. My office was silent except for the hum of the city beyond the window. The skyline glimmered like a thousand eyes watching, waiting.
She was in this city. Somewhere. I didn't know why, but I felt it—the magnetic pull of her presence, impossible to ignore.
I found her hours later in the dim-lit corners of the city's oldest library. She was sorting books in silence, unaware of me, unaware of what I knew—or who I was. Her hair fell over her shoulders like dark silk, her hands delicate yet certain as they organized the shelves. There was a calmness about her that was almost unbearable, a quiet strength that made my chest tighten in ways I didn't understand.
I should have left. That was the professional choice. But I didn't. I couldn't.
I watched her for minutes, long enough to memorize the way her eyes lingered on the spines of old books, long enough to hear the soft sigh escape her lips when a book fell. My instincts screamed at me to stay back. To forget her. To complete the mission.
But then she looked up. And our eyes met.
I almost faltered. Almost let a flicker of feeling escape. I had spent years building walls around myself, and one look from her was enough to make every one of them crumble.
"You're… Ethan Cross," she said softly. Not a question, an acknowledgment.
My breath hitched in a way I hadn't allowed myself in a decade. She knew me. But how?
"I could ask you the same," I replied, my voice low, controlled. Professional. Detached.
Her lips curved into the faintest smile. "Iris Vale. I thought you wouldn't recognize me."
A cold shiver ran down my spine. This was no ordinary woman, no ordinary reunion. She was playing a game—one I didn't fully understand yet. And it was dangerous.
I took a step closer. "Why are you here?" I asked. Not because I wanted the answer. Because I needed it.
"I don't know," she admitted, voice barely a whisper. "I… just felt like I had to come back."
Her words were fragile, but something about her gaze made my pulse tighten. I was supposed to eliminate her if emotions became a factor, but there was already a factor. And it was called desire.
The first twist came before I even realized I was at risk. A shadow shifted behind the shelves. Someone had been following her—and watching me. My hand instinctively went to the side of my jacket, fingers brushing the cold steel of my pistol.
"Stay behind me," I growled. Not a request. A command.
She hesitated, then did exactly that. And in that moment, she became more than just a target. She became a responsibility I hadn't asked for—and couldn't resist.
The footsteps grew louder. Fast. Intentional. I pulled her closer and stepped into the aisle, hiding her from view. The intruder appeared—masked, tall, and moving with lethal precision. They didn't know me. They didn't know her. But I did. And I was faster.
The fight was brief. Calculated. Efficient. One gunshot, one suppressed strike, and the figure collapsed. No one would ever know.
She stared at me, wide-eyed. "Why… why didn't you let them—"
"I protect what matters," I interrupted, voice clipped. I didn't wait for her to respond. I didn't explain. I couldn't.
Because that was the truth. I didn't just protect her. I couldn't leave her behind. I wasn't supposed to.
Hours later, as the city slept beneath us, we sat across from each other in my car. The engine hummed quietly, shielding us from the night. She was quiet. Watching me. Assessing me. Dangerous. Fragile. Everything I shouldn't be drawn to.
"I know what you are," she said finally. "And I… I think I'm supposed to trust you."
I looked at her. Really looked at her. The words I wanted to say were tangled with the danger I carried, the secrets I couldn't reveal, and the contract I couldn't ignore.
But one thing was clear: I wasn't letting her go. Not tonight. Not ever.
And that was when my phone buzzed, slicing through the tense silence. A new message from the client:
"Terminate the asset if emotional attachment occurs."
My chest tightened. I read it twice. Three times.
She was my target. But she was also the one I couldn't lose.
The engine idled, the city lights flickered, and I realized the game had just begun.
And I didn't know if I would survive it—or if she would.