River-
The scent of iron hung thick in the air,metallic, warm, too familiar. I didn't flinch as the man slumped to the ground in front of me, blood soaking through his white collar like wine spilled on snow. "Rex reporting, Target neutralized," I whispered into my comms, my accent dulled, untraceable. I stepped over the body with the silence of the ghost. Another one down. One step closer. One name off the list. And still, the fire inside me didn't flicker. It raged.
They had killed my family like they were nothing, in a war they didn't start. And now, years later, I have become something far worse than the monsters who destroyed my life.I have become their executioner. By the time I reached the rooftop, the adrenaline had already started to fade. I unzipped the bodysuit halfway and lit a cigarette with hands that rarely shook until now. A file glowed red in my encrypted inbox. I tapped it.
Next mission:Velmira, Thornevale Industries
Target: Maheer al-Qari (shoot at sight)
The VIN (Vigilant Intelligence Network of UKN) wouldn't admit it, but they were hiding him on Velmirion soil. And Iknew someone close enough to smell it.
Lucian Vale. I have done my research.
Star striker. Only Billionaire heir of Thornevale Industries. Famous for scoring goals, breaking hearts, and keeping secrets buried in his designer briefcase.No one would suspect him of harboring her. Which made him perfect for my mission to destroy terrorist Maheer's group Ansar-ul-Khaaliq.
'Mission accepted'. I replied. But this time, it wasn't just a mission. This time, she would get justice and then disappear.
***
I lay on a stiff mattress, staring at the cracked ceiling. The dim city glow crept through the curtains through the curtains. My body was still, but my mind was spinning.I closed my eyes. And it began again.
We are in the yard, laughing. My little baby brother, Leo, chased a football, tripped, and fell flat on his face. I giggled, running toward him. "You're getting worse every day." "I'm just acting," he said, brushing off his knees. "You're the real clown." I turned to see my mother in the kitchen, waving from the window, apron stained with tomato sauce. "Lunch!" she called in Cernovian. "Wash your hands, both of you!" Our father hammered something by the gate, muttering to himself. Mira, my childhood best friend, painted her nails with a broken compact mirror, and Sofya—radiant in her rainbow scarf—practiced a dramatic monologue for a play she'd probably never get to perform. It was a warm, safe day.
The kind you think you'll have forever.
Then suddenly … Leo stopped smiling.
He turned and walked inside.
I followed. "Wait up." Inside, the air shifted. My heart beat hard against my ribs. The walls felt tighter. The hallway darker. "Dad?" I called. "Mom? Leo?" I turned left, Leo's room. Empty. Right, my parents' room. Nothing. The kitchen... abandoned. The pot had stopped boiling. The windows were shut. Everything was too still. My breath caught, my legs trembled.I rushed back outside. "MIRA!" I screamed. "LEO? DAD?!"
And then…..A blinding white flash.
The roar of fire. The ground ripped open beneath me.
My eyes flew open. I bolted upright, gasping. Heart slamming.I pressed a hand to my chest, willing herself to believe I was awake—that the fire wasn't real, that the smoke hadn't followed me into the room. But the memory clung like smoking, thick, choking, inescapable.
I wrapped my arms around myself, knees pulled tight to my chest. And for a few minutes, just a few, I let the tears come. Silent. Hot. Relentless. I didn't often. I didn't have time for it. But some ghosts refused to be buried. Sleep was a stranger. The moment I closed my eyes, the past returned like a blade to the ribs.
I moved on autopilot dragging fingers through my hair, splashing cold water on my face, changing into clean clothes with surgical precision. There were no mirrors in the room. I didn't need one to know she looked like hell. Still, I picked up the tablet. The mission file still glowed red.
INFO:LUCIAN VALE…..
Son of Cassian Vale—CEO of Thornevale Industries, a multinational defense firm that supplies advanced weaponry and surveillance systems to governments worldwide. To the public, Lucian was just a rising football star. But to me, he is the perfect access point into the machinery of global power. Thornevale Industries had long been whispered about in the shadows—alleged arms deals, off-the-record tech transfers, contracts with organizations that vanished behind smoke. It was this circle, protected by money and legacy, that I needed to breach.
I am not after Lucian himself. I am after the secrets buried under his family name, the kind of secrets that could tell me who had helped the terrorists vanish after the attack on Cernova… and why. These questions have let me come here in UKN, a politically and financially strongest country, whose onBillionaire's GDP is equal to our country's GDP. I've been living here for the few months, doing my spy work on my targets and eliminating them. Velmira, the financial capital of UKN and home of Thornevale Industries, is going to be my last destination in my Journey of destruction of Ansar-ul-khaliq and the ones who helped him. I don't care which minister or businessman he or she is, I'm going to get them. And that guy Lucian Is going to help me without his knowledge. That pervert horny guy, famous in chicks, but ruthless who defies him, from what I've researched, will not be a big problem for me to get into. I think!
***
The Dominion Football League Quarter Finals; The scoreboard blinked:Velmira FC [ 2 – 2] Titanova United (Eighty-eighth minute).
The crowd was on fire,chants, flags, flares. A million voices screamed Lucian Vale's name as he sprinted toward the box, the ball at his feet, defenders closing in like wolves. But I can see, he isn't feeling any pressure. Playing on homeground. He must be feeling purpose.
With one fluid motion, Lucian cut left, slipped between two defenders, and launched the ball with a curved strike that defied gravity. The stadium held its breath.GOAL. The net rippled.
The arena exploded. "VALEEEE!" the announcer shouted. "Lucian Vale does it again! He takes his team to the semifinals!"
Lucian didn't celebrate wildly. He raised his arms once and closed his eyes, letting the noise crash over him. This wasn't just a win. It was survival. His teammates tackled him in a blur of jerseys and sweat.
Somewhere in the chaos, he caught sight of her. Elena. My only obstacle to Lucian. Front row. Big sunglasses. Red lipstick. Designer scarf. Still watching him. Pretending she belonged in his world, even after their breakup. He sighed and turned away like she was not there. This could be my moment to get myself into his eyes. The media swarmed him the moment he stepped off the pitch, cameras, lights, questions like bullets.
"Lucian! How does it feel to win this close to the wire?","What was going through your mind in those final minutes?","Are you dedicating this win to someone special?","Are you seeing someone new?" He rubbed sweat from his brow. "The only thing on my mind," he said coolly, "was the goal." such a handsome actor he is. "And what about love?" one journalist pushed. "Anything heating up off the field?" Lucian's jaw tightened. He saw Elena step forward, again smug, glowing.
And then, finally, our eyes met and held for a moment. He stood at the edge of the field, sweat glistening on his sharp jawline, hair tousled from the storm of the game. His jersey clung to his sculpted frame, each muscle defined, every line on his torso carved like a marble statue. Mud streaked down his arms, mixing with blood from a rough tackle, yet his expression remained cold, unreadable. His brown eyes intense and unflinching scanned the stadium like a predator, calm but calculating. There was no joy in his victory, only hunger for more. He looked like a man built for war, not just sport, handsome, brutal, and completely untouchable.