Elizabeth
“NO!”
It’s been rough since my dad passed. I still see that moment, pulling the trigger and watching the light fade from his eyes.
He didn’t look shocked, not at all. No, he wore a proud expression, just like they raised me, to be a cold-hearted killer.
My mom was a legend in her own right. She worked for one of my best friends’ dads, handling all the messy problems that needed fixing.
We were the fixers, solving issues at any cost. And I mean any cost.
Now, my mom traded her fixer life for a spokesperson gig at Corales Corporation here in Glenrich.
She stepped up when Lillian took over as the sole heir.
With her husband Adonis by her side, they got everything in line.
Of course, Adonis and I made sure to keep her in the dark; the fewer incriminating details she knew, the better.
We didn’t want her wrapped up in our mess.
Out of nowhere, my phone buzzed. I glanced at the caller ID and knew only one person would call me at this hour.
“Sir.”
“We’ve got a job for you. Be ready in 15.”
Silence hung heavy on the line after he said that. I sighed, bracing myself for a long night ahead. I swung my legs over the side of the bed and started getting ready. Hair up, Ops uniform on. My phone buzzed again.
“I’m ready.”
“Good. Sending location now.”
I checked the location and recognized it instantly.
It belonged to one of the many corrupt cops who used to pocket cash from Corales Corporation back when Lilly’s dad was in charge.
Now, she’s trying to run an honest business, but Adonis and I have been tying up loose ends behind her back.
It seemed like this one was about to spill the beans on their shady dealings, putting Lillian’s company at risk.
That won’t do. I grabbed my bag and headed out.
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Gravel crunched beneath my tires as I pulled up to the site — a rundown warehouse on the outskirts of a city that hadn’t seen hope in a decade.
The sun had just dipped low, painting everything in bruised gold and shadows.
I cut the engine and let the silence settle before stepping out, the weight of the job anchoring me in place.
I scanned the perimeter, slow and precise. No guards. No posted lookouts. Not even the usual crackheads loitering nearby.
That was the first red flag.
Either this guy was a complete idiot, or he believed himself invincible.
Untouchable.
The kind of arrogance that made men sloppy — and made my job easier.
A slow smirk pulled at my lips.
I took a moment, letting my eyes adjust as I surveyed every inch of the space.
Rooftop access points. Fire escapes. Sewer lines.
Exit routes. My mother used to tell me that a true professional never stepped foot on a site without memorizing every way out.
I followed her lead — once upon a time. Before her voice became just another echo in the back of my mind.
Now, she barely looked at me.
Too busy chasing her own ghosts, too far gone to notice the daughter walking in the path she carved and then abandoned.
I shoved the thought down. No time for old wounds. Not here. Not tonight.
“This one’s supposed to be clean,” I muttered under my breath, slipping my gear out of the duffel. “Accident, maybe suicide. Nice and tidy.”
This was what I was best at — making death look like something it wasn’t. The blade of my legacy was sharp, precise, and cold.
I crouched beside the wall and started laying out my tools, fingertips brushing metal and memory. I could already see the scene in my mind, how it would all unfold, what they'd find when the sun rose.
Then…
Something shifted.
A prickling sensation at the base of my neck. The air thickened — not with danger, but with presence. Someone watching.
I didn’t hesitate. Instinct took over. In one smooth motion, I reached down, drew the knife from my boot, and spun around, releasing it with all the force my body had learned over years of surviving.
“Whoa there, Sunshine, no need to stab me.”
The voice hit me like a spark.
I blinked, heart catching mid-beat.
From the shadows stepped a tall figure, familiar in every line, every cocky, careless breath. That damn smirk. That voice that lived in the center of my chest, even when I didn’t want it to.
“Noah?” I breathed.
My knife was already embedded in the wood beside his shoulder. Too damn close.
“What are you doing here?” I demanded, not trusting the tremble that wanted to sneak into my tone.
He took a step closer, hands raised in mock surrender. “Couldn’t let you have all the fun, could I?”
But it was more than that — I could see it in his eyes. He wasn’t just here for backup.
He was here for me.
And in that moment, with my pulse still racing and the mission barely begun, I felt the shift again — the undeniable pull of the one person who saw through all of it.
The knives.
The plans.
The shadows.
He saw me. And still… he stayed.