The evidence board is a disaster.
I stare at it in the dim light of the storage room, trying to figure out if I'm a genius or completely losing my mind. Red string connects various pieces of paper, notes, and observations I've been collecting for the past week. Mochi sits on a crate nearby, judging me silently.
"Don't look at me like that," I mutter. "This is necessary."
He squeaks skeptically.
"It is! Look, I've organized everything logically." I point to the top of the board. "See? Category one: 'Suspicious Skills.' Kira can throw knives with perfect accuracy. She claims it's for cutting vegetables, but Torres mentioned that she uses a very specific grip. A combat grip."
Mochi tilts his head.
"Category two: 'Strange Knowledge.' She knows exactly how to treat blade wounds. What poisons smell like. How to pick locks—she did that last month when I got locked out, remember? She said she learned from her uncle, but what kind of uncle teaches lockpicking?"
Another squeak, this one sounding almost amused.
"Category three: 'Mysterious Absences.' Last Tuesday, she said she was gathering night-blooming moonwort. But moonwort doesn't bloom at night, Mochi. I checked. I went to the library and everything."
I'd felt very proud of that research until the librarian had given me a pitying look and explained that maybe my wife just got the name wrong. But I know Kira doesn't make mistakes like that. She's too precise.
"And then there's the conversation I overheard. Guild. Assassin. Contracts." I've written these words on separate cards and connected them all to a central note that just says 'KIRA???' with way too many question marks.
"What are you doing?"
I yelp and spin around so fast that I nearly knock over the entire board. Kira is standing in the doorway of the storage room, holding a candle, looking confused and slightly concerned.
"Nothing!" I say too quickly. "Just... organizing! Storage! Very messy in here. Thought I'd clean it up."
Her eyes travel from me to the board behind me. I try to casually step in front of it, which only makes me look more suspicious.
"Renn, is that a board covered in notes about me?"
"What? No! It's a... shopping list. A very elaborate shopping list."
"It says 'Why does Kira know seventeen ways to kill someone with a teaspoon' in very large letters."
"...That's a weird way to phrase 'buy teaspoons.'"
Mochi has his tiny paws over his face, which is the spirit hamster equivalent of secondhand embarrassment.
Kira walks closer, and I resign myself to death. This is it. She's going to kill me for investigating her. I'll be found in this storage room, murdered by teaspoon, and my last words will be a lie about shopping lists.
But instead of killing me, she just... stares at the board. Her expression is hard to read. She reaches out and touches one of the notes. "'Tuesday: Kira came home with grass stains on her knees. She said she was gardening, but we don't have a garden.'"
"I can explain—"
"You've been investigating me."
It's not a question. I swallow hard. "I... yeah. I have."
"Why?"
The simple question throws me off. "Because—because something's going on! You're hiding things from me, Kira. And I don't... I don't know what to do about it."
She's quiet for a long moment. Then she carefully takes down the note she was holding and reads it again. "I was visiting a friend's grave. She loved gardens. I knelt to pull some weeds."
Oh.
Oh, I'm an idiot.
"The moonwort," she continues, moving to another note, "is called 'night-blooming' not because it blooms at night, but because it grows in shaded areas and prefers darkness. The botanist who named it was being poetic."
"Oh."
"And I learned lockpicking from a former patient who was a reformed burglar. He taught me in exchange for treating his arthritis." She turns to look at me. "I know seventeen ways to kill someone with a teaspoon because I read a lot, Renn. Particularly adventure novels. I thought you knew that."
I want the floor to open up and swallow me whole.
"But," she says softly, "you're right that I've been hiding things."
My heart stops. "What?"
She sets down the candle and sits on one of the crates. She looks tired suddenly. Older. "I haven't been completely honest with you about my past."
This is it. She's going to tell me she's an assassin. I'm going to have to decide if I can live with that. If I can love someone who—
"I used to work in security," Kira says. "For a private organization. Very private. We handled... sensitive situations. Protected people from threats they didn't know existed."
"Security," I repeat.
"Yes. It was dangerous work. I made enemies. That's why I left, why I came here, why I started over with a new name." She meets my eyes. "Kira isn't the name I was born with."
The floor feels unsteady beneath me. "What's your real name?"
"It doesn't matter. That person doesn't exist anymore. I left her behind when I met you." She reaches out and takes my hand. "But some of those old enemies... they've been finding me. That's why I've been tense. That's why someone was following you last week. They're trying to get to me through you."
"Through me? Why?"
"Because they know you're the only thing I care about."
My heart does that stupid fluttery thing even though this is a terrible, serious conversation. "Kira—"
"I'm handling it," she says firmly. "I have contacts, people who can help. But I need you to trust me. Can you do that?"
I look at her. At my wife. The woman who makes me breakfast and laughs at my jokes and holds me when I have nightmares. The woman I love more than anything in the world.
"Yes," I say. "I trust you."
She smiles, relieved. "Thank you." She glances back at the board. "Though I am slightly impressed by your detective work. This is actually pretty thorough."
"Really?"
"Mm-hmm. Wrong conclusions, but solid methodology." She stands and kisses my forehead. "Come on. It's late. Let's go to bed."
I follow her out of the storage room, Mochi hopping onto my shoulder. As we climb the stairs to our apartment, I tell myself that everything's fine. She explained everything. There's a reasonable answer.
Except.
Except "security work" doesn't explain why she knows exactly how to treat assassination-specific injuries. Or why she was talking about contracts and guilds. Or why she moves like a shadow sometimes, silent and deadly.
I'm not stupid, despite what everyone seems to think. I know she's still hiding something.
But I also know that I love her.
And right now, I'm not sure which truth matters more.
───
In our bed, Kira falls asleep quickly. She always does—another thing that seems unusual for someone who supposedly worked in security. Don't people with dangerous pasts have nightmares? Startle awake at noises?
Kira sleeps like the dead.
No. No, not like the dead. That's a terrible phrase to use when you suspect your wife might be a killer.
Mochi is curled up on my chest, glowing very faintly. I stroke his soft fur and stare at the ceiling.
"I'm being paranoid, right?" I whisper.
Mochi doesn't answer. He's asleep too.
I want to believe Kira's explanation. I want to accept that she used to work in security and now some bad people are after her and that's all there is to it.
But I keep thinking about that conversation I overheard. About the way she moves. About how Torres looked at me when he mentioned moonwort and silver lichen.
I'm missing something. Something important.
And I'm terrified that when I finally figure out what it is, I'll wish I'd stayed ignorant.
───
The next morning, I'm on a delivery run to the Noble District when I see him again. The man who was following me. He's standing near a fountain, pretending to read a news sheet, but I recognize the way he holds himself. The tension. The awareness.
Mochi squeaks a warning, and I duck into a shop before the man spots me.
The shopkeeper—a nice old lady who sells pottery—looks startled. "Renn? Are you alright?"
"Fine! Just... admiring your new vases. Very nice. Very... vase-like."
She follows my gaze to where I'm peeking out the window. "Are you hiding from someone?"
"What? No! Maybe. Yes."
"Oh dear." She peers out with me. "Is it that man by the fountain? The one trying too hard to look casual?"
"You see it too?"
"Dear boy, I've been selling pottery in this district for forty years. I know when someone doesn't belong." She purses her lips. "He's been asking questions about you."
My stomach drops. "About me?"
"Asking if anyone knows where you live. What your schedule is. Who you spend time with." She pats my arm. "I told him nothing, of course. None of my business who you spend time with, and he had a shifty look about him."
"Thank you," I say sincerely. "I really appreciate that."
"Are you in trouble, Renn?"
"I don't know," I admit. "Maybe. Probably. But I'm handling it."
Am I handling it? I'm hiding in a pottery shop while a strange man asks about my schedule. This doesn't feel like handling it.
The man finally moves away from the fountain, heading deeper into the Noble District. I wait another five minutes before leaving, thanking the shopkeeper profusely.
"Be careful," she calls after me. "And if you need help, you know where to find me!"
I complete the rest of my deliveries on high alert, taking random turns and doubling back on my route to make sure no one's following. By the time I get home, I'm exhausted and paranoid.
Kira takes one look at my face and pulls me into the back room.
"What happened?"
"That man. The one who was following me. He's asking people about me. About where I live. About you."
Her expression hardens. "Did he approach you directly?"
"No. I hid. Which now that I say it out loud sounds really cowardly."
"It sounds smart." She's pacing now, thinking. "He's escalating. That means whoever sent him is getting impatient."
"Kira, who are these people? Why are they after us?"
"I told you. Old enemies from my security work."
"That's not the whole truth though, is it?"
She stops pacing. Looks at me for a long moment. "No," she says quietly. "It's not."
"Then tell me the truth. Please. I can handle it."
"Can you?" She sounds genuinely uncertain. "Renn, what I did before... it wasn't pretty. It wasn't noble. If I tell you everything, you might not look at me the same way."
"Try me."
She studies my face, searching for something. Then she takes a deep breath.
"Before I met you, I was a—"
The shop door slams open downstairs. We both freeze.
"Kira!" a voice calls out. Male. Authoritative. "I know you're here. We need to talk."
Kira's face goes pale. "No," she whispers. "Not him. Not now."
"Who is it?"
She doesn't answer. Just moves to the door of the back room, positioning herself between me and whoever just entered.
Footsteps on the stairs. Heavy boots. Multiple people.
"Mochi," I whisper, "go check how many there are."
He nods and phases through the wall—one of his spirit abilities that's really useful in situations exactly like this.
The footsteps stop at the top of the stairs. Then the door opens, and three people enter our small living space.
The first is a man in his forties, dressed in expensive black clothes that somehow look both formal and practical. He has sharp features and cold eyes. Behind him are two younger people—a woman with twin daggers at her belt and a man who moves like a fighter.
They all have the same look. Professional. Dangerous. Definitely not here to buy healing salves.
"Kira," the older man says. "It's been a while."
"Master Vex," Kira replies, and her voice is colder than I've ever heard it. "You're not welcome here."
My brain stutters to a halt. Master Vex. The name from the conversation I overheard. The one she said to send someone better than last time.
Oh no.
Oh no, no, no.
"I'm afraid your preferences are irrelevant," Vex says smoothly. "You broke Guild law when you married a civilian. You know the penalty."
"I fulfilled my contract. I gave you ten years. I'm done."
"No one leaves the Guild, Kira. You know that."
They're talking about her like she's... like she's part of some organization. Like she has a contract. Like she...
All the pieces suddenly slam together in my mind with horrible clarity.
The Guild. Contracts. Vex sending assassins. Kira knowing how to kill with teaspoons.
My wife isn't just someone who used to work in security.
My wife is an assassin.
A real, actual, professional assassin.
And these people are here to collect her.
Mochi chooses that moment to reappear, squeaking frantically. Five more downstairs. Exits blocked. Windows watched.
We're trapped.
"Renn," Kira says, not taking her eyes off Vex, "I need you to go into the bedroom and lock the door."
"What? No! I'm not leaving you—"
"Now, Renn."
"You must be the husband," Vex says, looking at me with mild interest. "The delivery boy. How... quaint."
The woman with the daggers smirks. The fighter crosses his arms. They're all looking at me like I'm a particularly amusing pet.
"He doesn't know anything," Kira says quickly. "He's innocent in this. Let him go, and I'll come with you quietly."
"Kira, what are you—"
"I'm afraid it's not that simple," Vex interrupts. "He's seen our faces. He knows we exist. That's a security risk."
The implication hangs in the air like a knife.
They're going to kill me.
These people, whoever they are, are going to kill me because I married an assassin without knowing what she was.
"No," Kira says, and something in her voice makes everyone in the room tense. "You're not touching him."
"Kira, be reasonable—"
"I said no." She steps forward, and I see her hand move to her belt. To a knife I didn't know she kept there. "You want me? Fine. I'll come with you. I'll take whatever punishment you think I deserve. But Renn leaves. Now. Unharmed."
"That's not how this works."
"Then I'll make it work."
The tension in the room is suffocating. Everyone's hand is on a weapon now. Mochi is trembling on my shoulder, and I realize with absolute certainty that violence is about to happen in my living room.
My wife is an assassin.
These people want to kill me.
And I have absolutely no idea how to stop any of this.
"Kira," I say quietly. "What's going on?"
She doesn't turn to look at me. Doesn't take her eyes off Vex. But her voice, when she speaks, is gentle.
"I'm sorry, Renn. I'm so sorry. I should have told you everything from the beginning. I should have been honest."
"Told me what?"
"That before I met you, I was the Shadowstep Clan's best assassin. That I've killed twenty-four people. That the Guild owns me, and they've come to collect their property."
The words hit me like physical blows.
Twenty-four people.
Assassin.
Property.
"But none of that matters," she continues, her voice fierce now, "because you're the only thing I care about. And I won't let them hurt you. I promise."
Vex sighs. "How touching. But promises mean nothing here." He gestures to his companions. "Take him."
They move fast. Professional. Trained.
But Kira moves faster.