The voice sent a chill down my spine. Familiar, authoritative… deadly.
I spun the car door open, Iris pressed against my side, heart hammering against mine. Outside, the figure stepped into the streetlight. My breath caught.
It was Darius Kane—my former mentor, the man who had trained me, shaped me, and burned the lines of morality into my soul.
"You shouldn't have gotten involved," Darius said, gun pointed casually in my direction, as if we were in a classroom and not a street where bullets could shred us both.
"I didn't ask for your permission," I replied, voice cold, low, controlled. But inside, something snapped. Darius had never scared me before. Not really. But now… now he held leverage I couldn't ignore.
He smirked. "I see you've already made a choice. Protecting the asset, I assume?"
Iris's hand gripped my arm tightly. I felt her trembling. And for a brief, unbearable moment, I realized how much she'd already become a part of me. A part I couldn't let die—not for him, not for anyone.
"Step back," I warned, every muscle coiled, ready to move.
Darius tilted his head, amused. "Step back, or shoot her?"
My pulse spiked. I didn't answer. Because there was only one way this ended—on my terms.
In a blur, I pushed the car door shut, pulling Iris with me, and threw the vehicle into gear. Tires screeched as I maneuvered the car down a narrow alley, hoping to use the shadows as cover.
Darius's laugh followed us. Light. Dangerous. Calculated.
"You can run, Ethan," he called, voice echoing against brick walls. "But she's the key. And you'll fail."
I didn't look back. I couldn't. My mind raced.
Why was he here now? How did he know Iris was alive? And most importantly… what did he want?
I parked in an abandoned garage, out of sight, and finally allowed myself a moment to breathe. Iris sank to the ground, hands pressed to her knees, shaking.
"You're hurt," she whispered. Not because of the fight—I was fine. She could never know what I was truly capable of. She saw the human beneath the assassin.
"I'm fine," I said, voice firm, though my thoughts raced. "You should stay quiet and keep your head down."
She shook her head, looking up at me with those impossible eyes. "You're… different from what I remember. And yet, it's still you."
The words were a spark in a dry forest. I clenched my fists. I wanted to touch her, to pull her into me, to tell her she wasn't alone. But I couldn't. Not yet. Not while Darius was out there, watching, waiting.
Hours later, the city was asleep, but the danger hadn't left. I scanned every shadow, every reflection, every sound. Darius wasn't just here to warn me. He was here to manipulate me, to control me, to test me. And if I faltered… Iris would pay the price.
"I don't understand," she said quietly, her voice breaking the silence. "Why me? Why now?"
Because I wanted to tell her the truth, but the truth was lethal. It would destroy her, destroy us. So I stayed silent, letting the night answer her questions.
And that silence said more than words ever could: she was mine to protect. And if protecting her meant stepping into the fire, I would burn.
A sudden noise made both of us freeze. Footsteps. Slow, deliberate. Coming from the far end of the garage.
I whispered, "Stay behind me. Don't move."
The figure emerged—masked, familiar. Too familiar.
Before I could react, Iris gasped. "No… it can't be."
I followed her gaze. And my blood ran cold.
The man stepping toward us… was holding a photograph. A photo of me… with her. Ten years ago. Together. Laughing. Alive.
I had no memory of it. No explanation. No warning.
But the message was clear. Someone knew our past. And they wanted to drag it out into the open.
Iris looked at me, her eyes wide with fear and something else—recognition.
"This… this isn't just about me," she whispered.
"No," I said, gripping my pistol tighter. "It's about both of us. And right now… someone wants us dead."
The footsteps stopped. The figure tilted the photograph toward the dim light. I could just make out a single word written on it in red:
"REMEMBER."
Iris stumbled back, and I grabbed her arm before she could fall. My heart pounded in my chest—not from fear, but from the certainty that this was no ordinary threat. This was the beginning.
The beginning of a war.
And I had no idea how deep it went.