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NIA Rain lashes against the city like a punishment. From the rooftop, I watch it slice through the dark.The skyline glows beneath it, blurred gold and steel, while thunder mutters like a warning. I crouch on the ledge, breathing steady. The glass penthouse below me hums with heat and light — my target’s den. Knight Golden. Billionaire, alpha, philanthropist on paper. Monster in truth. At least, that’s what the contract says. “Five minutes, Silent Blade,” my handler whispers through the comm. “Clean kill. No traces.” As if I need the reminder. Clean is the only way I work. I draw my knife — matte black, silver-edged, balanced perfectly to my hand. A witch once told me it remembers every soul it’s tasted. Tonight, it’ll remember his. The biometric lock surrenders to my tools with a soft click. Warm air spills out, thick with whiskey, cedar — dominance, power, wolf. Inside, everything gleams. Dark marble. Amber lights. Shadows deep enough to disappear into. I move through them like smoke. Until my wolf stirs. It’s been restless all night, pacing beneath my skin. I tell her to shut up. She doesn’t. She never does. But I have a job to do. I find him in the main suite, sitting in front of floor-to-ceiling glass, staring out at the storm like he owns it. Broad shoulders, open collar, whiskey glass half-empty. Too easy. I glide forward, knife raised, until the blade kisses the skin of his throat. A heartbeat. One breath. One motion — And the world shifts. The scent hits me so hard I nearly drop the blade. Pine. Rain-soaked earth. It floods my lungs, my blood. My vision blurs; my wolf goes silent, then howls — one raw, broken sound that rips through my chest. No. Not him. Not now. He inhales sharply, nostrils flaring, eyes snapping open. “You,” he says, voice low and rough. “My assassin… is my mate.” The knife trembles in my hand. I take a step back, fighting for control. My instincts scream at me to touch him. My training screams louder to run him through. “Don’t,” I manage, my voice rough from disuse. He doesn’t move. His gaze slides from my mask to my blade to the pulse hammering at my throat. The faintest curve tugs at his lips. “So the Silent Blade speaks.” “Stay down,” I hiss. “You won’t kill me.” I raise the knife again. “Watch me.” But I can’t. Every nerve in my body is tuned to him. My wolf presses against my skin, desperate to get closer. The mate bond hums like thunder outside. Knight tilts his head, baring more of his throat. “If it’s a choice between dying by your hand or never touching you…” His voice drops to a whisper. “I’ll take the knife.” Damn him. I lunge, the blade grazing his neck, drawing a thin line of blood. The scent of him floods me again, dizzying. I stumble back, gasping. He stands slowly, eyes steady on mine. Even wounded, he moves like a predator. “You can’t fight it,” he murmurs. “Neither can I.” “I can do whatever I decide.” I rip the mask from my face, desperate for air. His gaze sharpens, flickering with something close to awe. “You’re even more dangerous without the mask,” he says softly. “Don’t mistake attraction for mercy,” I snap. “The only reason you’re breathing is because I don’t kill people who smell like fate.” “Is that mercy?” “Strategy.” We circle each other, two wolves trapped in the same snare. Lightning flashes behind him, turning his silhouette gold. “Who sent you?” he asks. I hesitate. My handler’s voice echoes in my head — no questions, no names, no hesitation. Instead, I pull the comm from my ear and crush it under my boot. “Someone rich. Someone scared of you.” He lets out a humorless laugh. “That narrows it down to half the city.” I back toward the door. “Disappear. My employer won’t stop until you’re dead.” “You’ll protect me?” “No. I’ll protect myself.” He takes a step closer. The air between us burns. “You can lie to yourself, Silent Blade. But the bond doesn’t lie.” I feel it then — the pull, the raw gravity between us. It’s unbearable. It’s intoxicating. It’s everything I swore I’d never feel again. “Try me,” I whisper, and vanish into the storm. By dawn, I’m in an abandoned warehouse, wiping his blood off my knife. It glows faintly in the flickering light — gold and alive. His scent clings to me. “Damn you,” I mutter. I shouldn’t care. He’s a mark. A job. Nothing more. But every time I close my eyes, I see those golden eyes, that small, infuriating smile. My phone buzzes. One message. CLIENT UNHAPPY. TARGET ALIVE. FIX IT. TONIGHT. I stare until the letters blur. My wolf growls, low and dangerous — mine. I slam the phone down. “You had to be him,” I whisper. “You had to be that man.” Across the city, I knew he’s awake. I can feel him — that strange tether between us thrumming like a heartbeat. Somewhere in the storm, Knight Golden is bleeding and smiling and thinking of me. And the thought terrifies me more than death ever has. That night, I move through the underground to vanish — new name, new ID, new route out of the city. But the bond makes everything harder. I can sense him at the edges of my mind, like a pulse under my skin. The first bullet tears through the wall beside my head. Instinct takes over. I dive for cover, returning fire. Shadows move — mercenaries, armed, fast. Too fast for humans. My wolf surges. Claws slice through the dark. They go down quickly, but not before one gets a shot off that grazes my arm. My phone rings — unknown number. I answer, breath sharp. “Who is this?” “You should’ve killed me when you had the chance,” a familiar voice purrs. Knight. His tone is low,almost amused. “Now I’m coming to collect what’s mine.” My heart stutters. Fury and something far more dangerous tangle in my chest. “Over my dead body,” I mutter. From the shadows behind me, another voice — not his. “That can be arranged.” Gunfire explodes around me. And somewhere between the smoke and the roar, I realize: Silent Blade is dead.Nia — just began to live.

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