Three weeks passed in the House of Vipers, though Bianca Romano felt them like three months.
Every morning started with gunfire in the training yard. Every night ended with drills so brutal that most rookies passed out before midnight. She discovered quickly that in Lorenzo DeLuca's territory, exhaustion was a privilege—most people didn't survive long enough to feel it.
Bianca didn't complain.
She wouldn't dare.
Not with him watching.
And Lorenzo always watched.
He didn't speak to her unless necessary. He didn't hide his disgust for her. He didn't hide the way his jaw tightened every time she entered a room, or how his silver eyes darkened as though she polluted the air.
She feared him. Of course she did. Only a fool wouldn't.
But fear never broke her spine.
She learned to walk with it, breathe with it, live with it.
If survival required stillness, she mastered stillness.
If survival required strength, she would bleed for it.
Tonight, she would do both.
Because tonight, everything changed.
---
It began in the Control Room.
A cold blue glow painted every wall as Echo—the House of Vipers' top hacker—typed at a speed Bianca couldn't follow. Her fingers moved like electricity, her silver-and-black hair tied up loosely, a pair of glowing goggles reflecting encrypted text.
Bianca was organizing files nearby when Echo suddenly froze.
Then she whispered, "I've got him."
Zero, who leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, straightened immediately. The towering second-in-command rarely showed expression, but his dark eyes sharpened.
"Who?" he demanded.
Echo didn't blink. "The Looker."
Silence spread like a knife.
Even Bianca felt the atmosphere change. She didn't fully understand why, but she knew the Looker was connected to Lorenzo…and connected to the man she hunted too. Her heart thudded once, hard.
Echo continued rapidly, "His men are moving goods through a warehouse in Tivoli. The patterns match his previous supply routes. It's him. I'm sure."
Before Bianca could process it, a familiar cold presence filled the room.
Lorenzo.
He walked in silently, like a shadow wearing a suit. His silver eyes scanned the monitors before landing on Echo.
"Show me," he ordered.
His voice was quiet—but somehow more dangerous than shouting.
Echo shifted the hologram to the main screen. A map of eastern Rome appeared, pulsing red at a specific location.
"He'll be there at least within the next twenty-four hours," Echo said. "If not him, then his top men. It's definitely connected."
Lorenzo's jaw clenched.
"Zero. Enzo. Scarlet," he said without turning. "Get ready. We hit it tonight."
Bianca swallowed, expecting to be dismissed.
But Lorenzo turned his head slowly…and his cold eyes landed on her.
"You'll come too," he said.
Bianca froze.
Zero gave her a brief glance—surprised. Scarlet raised an eyebrow. Even Enzo paused mid-loading a gun.
"Sir?" Bianca asked quietly. "Me?"
"Yes." Lorenzo's expression didn't shift. "This is your first assignment. You'll collect the marked crates. Nothing more. Do it cleanly."
Bianca nodded. Shock pulsed beneath her skin. She had trained hard, yes, but she didn't think he would include her—not this soon, and definitely not on something this important.
"Understood, Reaper."
His eyes narrowed slightly at her voice, but he turned away before she could guess why.
Zero handed her a vest. "Stay close. Don't die."
"That's… comforting," she whispered.
"It wasn't meant to be," he responded.
---
The warehouse district smelled like rust and old rain.
The moon was low, clouds dragging across it like bruises. Five black bikes arrived silently, stopping a good distance from the warehouse. Shadows moved inside—guards, workers, muscle.
Bianca gripped her gloves tighter. Her heart beat too fast.
But she stood her ground.
Always.
Lorenzo crouched near a low wall, scanning the perimeter. His presence radiated darkness—cold, calculative, merciless. He didn't look at Bianca once, but she felt his hatred like a blade resting on her throat.
"Echo," Lorenzo said into the mic, "lights."
"On it."
In an instant, the warehouse went pitch black.
Zero moved first, silent as a storm. Enzo followed, then Scarlet—elegant, lethal, like violence wearing perfume.
Bianca kept pace behind them, clutching her handgun. Her palms were damp—she hated that—but her breathing stayed steady.
They slipped inside through a side entrance.
Voices shouted in confusion. Flashlights flickered. Crates were stacked like crooked bones in the darkness.
Zero snapped a man's neck without sound. Enzo knocked another unconscious. Scarlet slashed a third across the thigh.
Bianca's job was simple: retrieve the crates marked with a red V.
She found the first one quickly.
Just when she knelt to open it—
A heavy footstep behind her.
A voice.
"You're not supposed to be here, girl."
She whipped around.
The guard was huge, armed with a knife, and too close.
Bianca's breath caught. Training and instinct collided—but fear still spiked, sharp and real.
His hand shot out, grabbing her wrist. She struggled, hit him in the ribs, but he jerked her back, snarling.
Then Bianca saw it.
The glint of the knife.
He raised it, aiming for her throat.
Her mind went white.
Move.
Fight.
Survive.
Her hand closed on the gun at her hip—she barely aimed—she pulled the trigger.
The shot echoed through the warehouse.
The man fell backward, the knife clattering beside him.
Blood spread across the concrete, dark and steaming.
Bianca stared at her own hands.
Her first kill.
A chill crawled through her bones—not regret, not terror—just a realization that something inside her had changed forever.
"Bianca."
Her head snapped up.
Lorenzo stood five feet away, expression unreadable but eyes sharp with calculation. He had witnessed the entire thing.
She swallowed. "He… he was going to kill me."
Lorenzo stepped closer, boots silent on the blood-slick floor. For one brief, terrifying second, she thought he might touch her face, mock her, or drag her out for being weak.
Instead, he looked down at the body, then at her gun… then back at her.
"You hesitated," he said coldly. "Don't do it again."
Her throat tightened. "Yes, Reaper."
"But you survived," he added, voice lower, darker. "Remember what it took."
He turned sharply.
"Collect the crates. We leave in five."
Bianca breathed out shakily.
She didn't know if she was relieved or disappointed.
No praise.
No comfort.
Not even a glance acknowledging she had done well.
Just cold orders.
But that was fine.
Lorenzo DeLuca didn't owe her anything.
And this…
this kill…
It was only the beginning.
Bianca wiped the blood from her cheek, straightened her back, and moved to finish the job.
The House of Vipers didn't tolerate weakness.
Tonight, neither would she.