Three years. That was how long it took to turn the girl who once cried herself to sleep into the woman who now sleeps with a knife under her pillow. I’ve trained myself every single day since then. I’ve turned my anger into muscle, my fear into focus. I’ve learned how to shoot, how to fight, how to lie through my teeth without batting an eyelash. And I’ve learned to trust no one, least of all the man who once swore to protect me. The man I once loved.

I used to wake up in cold sweats, haunted by his face, the promises he made and the betrayal that followed. Now I wake up with purpose. Every scar, every bruise, every lost night—it's all a part of this new me. A me that’s stronger, sharper, and colder. A me that’s ready to take on whatever comes next.

And tonight, I had an assignment.

Nico Del Ruca wants his money. And I'm the one he's trusted to get it.

The mansion I've been assigned to is massive. The kind of place that makes you feel small just by walking through its gates. Old money, the kind that likes to throw its weight around. But this guy? This guy's a mistake waiting to be made. He’s the one who didn’t pay up. He’s the one who thought he could mess with Nico and walk away clean. Well, he’s about to find out just how wrong he was.

I slip into the house unnoticed. I’ve done this enough times to know how to move like a shadow. I had a maid uniform, a cleaning cart a whole act to play.

The halls are quiet, the only sound are my footsteps on the marble floor. I stop by the door to his study, glance at the hallway. No one’s around. Perfect.

I walk in, not bothering to knock. The man’s sitting at his desk, hunched over his computer like he’s got nothing better to do. A fat, balding man with a permanent scowl etched into his face. He’s the type who thinks his money buys him immunity. Tonight, I’m here to show him how wrong he is.

“Can I help you?” he asks without even looking up, clearly expecting the maid to be just another part of his lavish life.

“Yeah, you can,” I say, my voice calm, but the gun I pull from the back of my waist speaks louder than words ever could.

He freezes. A split second of confusion crosses his face before it’s replaced by fear. I like that part. The moment they realize this isn’t some game, that this is real.

I'm the onw with the gun and I'm in charge. That feeling was beyond exciting.

“Put the gun down,” he says, but there’s no conviction in his voice. He knows he’s in trouble. The only question is how much.

“I’m here for the money you owe Nico Del Ruca,” I say, stepping closer. I don’t give him a chance to talk. “You owe him half a million. And it’s time to pay up.”

“Wait, wait,” he stammers, holding up his hands. “I was going to pay! I swear! I had the money ready—”

I don’t give him the chance to finish. “Where’s the money?”

He points toward a painting hanging on the wall. I don’t trust him. I move closer, pushing the gun into his face. His breath hitches, but he doesn’t fight it. He’s smart enough to know when to back down.

“I don’t want any trouble,” he says, his voice cracking. “It’s in the safe. Behind the painting.”

I nod, keeping my gun trained on him as he steps shakily toward the wall. His hand shakes as he moves the painting aside and punches in the code to the safe. A quiet click and the door swings open, revealing stacks of cash. Dirty, untraceable cash.

I gesture for him to take it out, and he does. He hands me the money, his hands trembling as he reaches for it.

But I’m not here for the money alone.

I wait until his hand is on the handle of the drawer. That’s when I make my move.

Bang.

My silencer mutes the nice of the shot as his body hits the floor. His blood spills over the carpet, staining it in the same way his greed has stained his life. He gurgles, the last breath of a man who thought he could get away with being a thief.

I grab the money and stuff it in my satchel. I don’t look back at his body. It’s not personal. It never is. It’s business. And business is about getting the job done. Clean. Efficient. No emotions.

I move through the room, heading for the window. I don’t hesitate. I climb out, the cool night air biting at my skin as I drop to the ground below.

Marco is waiting for me a few blocks down, leaning against his motorcycle. He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t need to. He knows the job is done.

I climb on behind him, and we take off into the night, the engine roaring beneath us. The adrenaline still hasn’t worn off. I feel alive in a way I haven’t in a long time.

When we reach the penthouse, Nico’s there, waiting. His presence is like a shadow looming over me. The moment he sees me, his lips curl into a grin.

“Well done,” he says. His eyes are sharp, calculating. “You’re getting better. More precise.”

“Don’t start with the praise,” I mutter, tossing the satchel onto the counter. “I’m here to get paid.”

“You’ve earned it,” he says, gesturing for me to sit. He pours a glass of whiskey and hands it to me. “But you’re not done yet.”

I look at him, confused. “What are you talking about?”

He leans back in his chair, his eyes gleaming with something I can’t quite place. “I’ve got a new assignment for you. I’m promoting you. You’re ready to oversee the warehouse on 63rd.”

I blink. “Wait. I thought I was just a gun for hire.”

“You’re more than that now. You’ve proven yourself. You’ve got the mind for this. The skills. The will.”

I take a sip of the whiskey, letting it burn down my throat. “I’m not interested in promotions, Nico. You know what I want. You promised to help.”

Nico leans forward, his gaze intense. “I know you want to end it. But first, I need you to do something for me.”

I set the glass down slowly. “What kind of job?”

“You’ll know when you’re ready. I just need you to follow the orders, Millie. You’ll thank me later.”

My hands shake slightly, but I hide it. I can feel the heat rising in my chest. The anger. The frustration. But I bite it down, keeping my expression neutral.

“I’ll do it,” I say, my voice cold. “But this is the last time. After this, I’m done.”

Nico’s grin widens. “Good. I knew I could count on you.”