Lila stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the loose strands of her hair. For the first time in a long while, she noticed subtle changes in her reflection. Her jaw looked sharper, her posture straighter, her body leaner. She had carried so much weight once, the kind that clung to the skin like shame, but now she felt it peeling away, revealing someone new—or perhaps someone old she thought she had lost. Her eyes were clearer too, sharper, as if the girl in the mirror had secrets that no one could touch.
She tilted her head, studying the faint curve of a smile tugging at her lips. It wasn't joy, not really. More like recognition. This was progress. The kind of progress that came not from classrooms or exams, but from the shadows she moved through at night.
The clock on her nightstand blinked, reminding her she didn't have the luxury of admiring herself. She slipped on her jacket, grabbed her bag, and stepped out quietly, the sound of her door clicking shut behind her like a promise.
Before heading to school, she found her way to Nathaniel's office. He was waiting, as though he had known she would come. He always seemed to anticipate her steps, his presence filling the room before he even spoke. He sat behind the wide mahogany desk, his suit sharp and immaculate, the faint glow of a desk lamp casting lines of shadow across his face. Calm authority clung to him like a second skin, but tonight his eyes held something heavier, like storm clouds trying to mask themselves as sky.
"There's a new assignment," he said, voice low, precise, every syllable deliberate.
Lila closed the door behind her and leaned against it, folding her arms. "What kind of assignment?"
His gaze didn't falter. "Not like the others. This one requires precision. No mistakes."
The way he said it made her heartbeat shift, not from fear but from anticipation. Her curiosity sharpened. "Who's the target?"
Nathaniel leaned back slightly in his chair, folding his arms across his chest. The movement was slow, measured, as though he was testing how much weight she could bear before the truth left his lips.
"A politician," he said finally. "One of the worst kinds. On the surface, he's adored—smiling, shaking hands, pouring money into charities. The city worships him as a philanthropist. But behind closed doors?" His tone hardened, like stone scraping stone. "He smuggles weapons. He fattens his pockets with blood money while the streets rot. He's a parasite feeding on lives that don't matter to him."
His eyes fixed on hers, dark and unyielding. "I want you to eliminate him tonight. Quietly. No signs. It must look natural—an attack no doctor can trace."
A stillness passed between them. Lila's lips curved into the faintest smirk. "Understood. I'll handle it."
For a heartbeat, Nathaniel's eyes lingered on her. Searching, perhaps, for hesitation. For cracks. But her face was unreadable, her confidence sharp enough to cut glass. He dismissed her with a small nod, though the air seemed heavier as she stepped out of his office.
By the time she reached school, her posture had changed. She walked with a precision that set her apart from the chattering students crowding the hallways. They fussed about exams, complained about homework, swapped gossip about meaningless things. Their world spun in shallow circles, and Lila walked through them as if she were invisible, a blade moving through air.
Samantha's absence was sharp enough to notice. Usually, the girl lingered, waiting to snarl some comment or toss a dagger-shaped look her way. Today, nothing. No passing glare. No words. Suspicious. But Lila didn't dwell on it. She had bigger matters consuming her thoughts.
She sat through her classes with mechanical patience, her pen scribbling notes while her mind charted out possibilities, scenarios, contingencies. Each tick of the clock pulled her closer to the night.
When the final bell rang, she slipped out with the crowd, returning home.
Her eldest brother, David, was in the living room, adjusting his tie in front of the mirror. The steady scrape of fabric against fabric filled the silence as he prepared for his night shift.
"Work again?" Ethan asked lazily from the couch, his eyes glued to his phone.
David didn't even look up as he answered. "Yes." His voice was clipped, steady, like the man himself. Then his gaze flicked briefly to Lila. For half a second, it lingered, searching her face. But she revealed nothing, only moved past them with quiet ease, slipping into her room as though she had been carved from shadow.
The night deepened, blanketing the house in silence. Doors closed, breaths slowed, the familiar hush of sleep taking the family under. But Lila did not rest. She stood at her window, the moonlight spilling across her desk as she carefully dressed.
Her outfit was sleek, black, sharp enough to blend but elegant enough to command attention if needed. Every strap and buckle tightened with purpose. She slid knives into hidden sheaths, adjusted her gloves, and tied her hair back. When she was finished, she glanced once at the mirror. Not at the girl. At the assassin staring back.
Then she slipped out.
The city was alive, buzzing with the hum of nightlife, the thrum of cars, the echo of laughter spilling from bars and restaurants. But Lila's destination towered above the chaos—a lavish hotel glowing with wealth, chandeliers flashing like captured stars through wide glass windows. Tonight, it hosted a party fit for kings, marble floors glinting beneath silk gowns and polished shoes.
She moved through the entrance with grace, a mask of poise covering the blade hidden beneath her skin. Her earpiece crackled once. Nathaniel's voice brushed against her ear like smoke.
"You're inside?"
"I'm here," she whispered.
She scanned the room. The laughter, the orchestra, the clinking glasses—all of it was noise. She needed clarity. The target had one weakness: women. Flattery and beauty blinded him more than power or money. If she could catch his eye, the rest would follow.
She moved through the crowd, her body swaying with precision, her eyes sharp but inviting. And then—
A tray brushed against her arm. She turned sharply, her reflexes ready to snap—until her gaze locked on a familiar face.
David.
Her heart skipped.
He stood in a waiter's uniform, the tray balanced in his hands. His eyes widened the moment they recognized her. Shock punched the air between them.
"Lila?" His voice was sharp, low, disbelief cutting through it. "What are you doing here?"
Her mind raced. Panic threatened, but she smothered it. Lies came like second nature. "I heard they had rare artifacts on display," she said quickly, her tone smooth, almost casual. "For a school project. I didn't tell anyone because… well, you know how they'd react."
David's eyes narrowed, suspicion flickering. For a long moment, it felt as though he would press harder, peel away the mask she had so carefully worn. Then he sighed, the tension leaving his shoulders. "Fine. I'll show you. But after that, you're leaving. I'll even drop you off."
She nodded, relief hidden deep beneath her stillness.
He led her down a side hall, where displays of carved stones and pottery lined glass cases. Dim spotlights cast long shadows across the empty space. David gestured vaguely at the artifacts, though his eyes lingered on her, searching.
As he turned to examine a display, Lila's breath steadied. She slipped away, her steps silent, her shadow merging with the dark.
The lounge where she found the target reeked of smoke and arrogance. He reclined on a velvet chair, cigar between his fingers, the glow painting his smug face in amber light.
"Well, well," he chuckled when he saw her, his gaze crawling over her body. "And who sent me such a pretty little gift tonight?"
She didn't answer. She only smiled, a mysterious curve of lips that promised secrets and danger. She glided closer, her movements fluid, controlled. His eyes followed hungrily, his guard crumbling with every sway of her hips.
Music from the ballroom drifted faintly through the door as she poured him a glass of wine. Her palm brushed the rim, the clear liquid she carried dissolving into the crimson swirl like it belonged there. She handed it to him gracefully, fingers grazing his, her touch deliberate.
He smirked, lifting the glass. "To beauty," he toasted.
Her eyes gleamed. "To endings."
He drank deep, greedy and certain of his power. A sigh slipped past his lips as he leaned back, his body already beginning to betray him. His lids fluttered, his breath slowed, and the room fell into silence except for the faint crackle of his dying cigar.
Lila rose smoothly, her expression empty. She turned, gliding out of the lounge as if she had never been there.
By the time she reached the street, the night air cool against her face, she was already dialing Nathaniel.
"It's done," she said simply.
"Good," his calm voice replied. "You haven't lost your edge."
A ghost of a smile touched her lips as she ended the call.
She returned home before dawn, her movements precise, her body slipping into the rhythm of the sleeping house. She entered her room, closed her door, and only then allowed herself to exhale.
The morning sun painted her walls in pale gold. As she walked to school, she scrolled through her phone. The headline screamed in bold letters:
Prominent Politician Found Dead—Suspected Heart Attack.
Her lips curved, cold satisfaction rising like a tide. She slipped the phone back into her pocket and walked through the school gates, her head held high. The world around her buzzed with ordinary noise, but only she carried the secret of the night.