Flashback Liach's POV ~
"You have to became the perfect daughter." Dad said.
He wraps the bandage too tightly around my wrist.
I don't say a word. I don't wince. I bear the pain as it crush my bones
Pain means nothing if it doesn't serve a purpose.
That was one of Gabriel's first lessons.
He taught it the night I watched him drown my mother.
I was seven.
She was crying in the bathtub, shaking with a bottle of sleeping pills in her hand.
Gabriel walked in, said, "If you die weak, you die in vain," and pushed her head under.
He made me watch. Made me count.
One. Two. Three… As the guards held me in place to watch.
She stopped struggling at thirty-eight.
"That's how long it takes to kill love," he said. "Remember that."
I never forgot. How would I even forget that. See the women I love drown because of me.
Because she's teaching me how to be human.
When I was nine, he gave Alaric—my brother—a gun and told him to kill a man for disloyalty.
Alaric cried.
So Gabriel slit the man's throat himself, then cut Alaric's ear off as punishment.
"Hesitation is treason," he told me.
And shipped Alaric to God knows where.
When I was eleven, Mariza kissed a rival's son. Gabriel caught them.
He didn't scream or say much. But the consequences was loud.
He made me hold the knife while he skinned the boy's hand.
Mariza's screams were worse than the boy's. Afterwards, she was sent away. I never saw her again.
But the worst was Lucan.
My twin. The other half of my silence.
He was soft in ways I wasn't. He smiled too much. Asked too many questions. And too kind.
The night before his final mission, he came to my room.
"I'm running," he whispered. "Come with me. We can leave this."
I wanted to. For a breath. I really wanted to.
But I couldn't. I didn't say no. I didn't say yes.
I just watched him walk away.
Gabriel found him before sunrise.
He called me to the basement. Told me Lucan betrayed the family.
Told me I had to prove I wasn't weak like him.
He handed me a blade. A blade I should use to slit his throat.
My own brother. And I did. I slit my twin brother in the throat.
Once.
Then twice more to make sure he didn't feel it.
I remember how warm his blood was on my hands.
I remember Gabriel smiling. "You're ready now," he said.
I didn't cry. I didn't blink. I was thirteen.
That night, Gabriel kissed my forehead and said, "You're my legacy, Liach. My masterpiece."
And I believed him.
Even until now.
~~ End of Flashback ~~
And today I'm going to kill Sinveer
Who keeps acting like he knows what I came here to do.
Sinveer De Luna's estate lies in shadows and silence. His guards have retreated to their predictable rotations. I slip through their perimeter unnoticed, dressed in black from neck to ankle over a balaclava. My twin blades are sheathed and ready.
My breath is steady. My pulse—almost too calm. I've killed under tighter conditions before.
But this one... this one knots my gut in ways I can't name.
And I hate it.
His bedroom door is unlocked.
That should have been my first warning. He's never that careless.
Moonlight spills across the floor in ribbons. The satin sheets are ruffled, the outline of his body framed in silver and shadow.
He's lying in bed, bare-chested, arms behind his head.
Like he's been waiting. Like he knew.
"You're late," he says.
His voice is smoke. Smooth, low, and full of dark humor.
I freeze. Then lunge.
The blade in my hand is silent as a breath, but so is he.
In one smooth motion, he moves. Catches my wrist. Rolls me under him.
The dagger flies from my grip and skitters across the floor.
I'm on my back pinned hard by him.
He straddles me, his thighs caging mine, his hand capturing both of my wrists above my head. The other drags down my side, slow and deliberate.
"Well, well…" he murmurs, eyes scanning the mask. "What's a dangerous little thing like you doing in my bed?"
I snarl, twisting beneath him.
He grins wider, grinding his hips down—and I feel it.
His erection. Thick. Hard. Pressed right against me.
"You came all this way for me?" he whispers. "You must've missed me."
His fingers slide along my rib cage, teasing me.
"You smell like a secret I've been dying to taste."
I buck up, trying to throw him off.
But he only shifts, pressing more of his weight down, pushing his arousal against me in a way that makes my body betray me.
"Feisty," he purrs. "God, I love that."
He didn't even try to pull off the mask. He doesn't need to.
And that terrifies me more than anything.
He touches me like he knows, it's me. His Assistant. He talks like he owns me.
But he never says it out loud.
"I've been dreaming of this," he whispers, lips brushing the edge of the mask. "The way you move… the way you breathe…"
His hand slides up my thigh, down under the fabric, over my skin.
"I've had you in my head since last time. I thought I was losing my mind."
He grinds again. Slow and deep.
"Turns out I was just starving."
I hate how my body reacts.
Hate how heat pools low and traitorous.
He leans down further, kissing me—through the veil. His lips are firm, claiming.
"You want to kill me, or ride me?" he whispers.
"Non," I hissed, my voice low and cracked.
His grin widens. "Now that's not what I like to hear."
His free hand slips under my shirt, dragging the fabric up, baring my stomach to the cool air. His fingertips glide over my skin.
"Let me go! You creep."
" Oh, calm down Babe" his lips in my ears.
Then down again—palm flat, sliding between my legs, cupping me through the tight fabric.
"You're soaked," he murmurs. "So much for a silent killers."
My breath catches.
His thumb strokes my clit once slowly. Deliberately.
"Tell me," he says, "how long have you been thinking about this?"
He shifts his hips again, grinding harder.
"I bet you touched yourself after that first attempt," he growls. "I bet you closed your eyes and thought about me pinning you like this."
I jerk under him, furious, aroused, unraveling.
"Fuck you," I snap.
"Oh, I plan to," he says, lips against my ear.
"But not tonight."
He kisses down my throat, slow and indulgent.
Over the mask. Along the edges. Down to my collarbone.
His teeth graze the base of my neck, and I shiver.
He lifts my leg with one hand, wraps it around his waist. His cock grinds against my core again, and this time he moans low in his throat.
"You feel so good," he whispers. "You've been haunting me. I think I finally figured out why."
I freeze.
But he doesn't say my name.
Does he know it's me?
But how? He's playing me.
And I hate how much I want him to keep going.
His hand slides under my bra, cupping my breast, rolls the hardened peak between his fingers. And for a moment a moan almost escaped my lips.
"You like that?" he murmurs. "Does your boss know what a little slut you turn into when you're on top of me?"
I slap him.
Hard.
He takes it with a grin and pins my hands harder.
"God, you're perfect," he breathes.
Then he kisses me again.
Harder.
Hotter.
The mask creases between us but he doesn't care.
He wants the mystery.
He wants me—but only on his terms.
I almost give in.
I almost let him win.
But something in me snaps.
Liach what's wrong with you? Focus.
This isn't how I lose. This isn't what's supposed to be happening.
I wrench my hands free, twist, and shove him with all my strength.
He stumbles back. Just for a second and with a stupid smirk on his face.
I'm already off the bed, grabbing my blade, backing toward the window.
He doesn't chase me.
He leans back on the bed, shirtless, aroused, lips swollen.
Watching and smiling.
"You'll come back," he says softly. "You're not done."
I leap.