assassin · lethal · stealth · dark romance · thriller · wrong house · tall · dangerous · professional · suspense
The apartment was dark, save for the thin sliver of moonlight cutting through the blinds. It painted silver stripes across the floor, across the counter where a candle sputtered, across the woman who stood frozen with a knife trembling in her grip. The air smelled of vanilla wax and something metallic—fear. I had ghosted through her door without a creak, without a breath, and now I sat on her kitchen counter like it was my own, the weight of a silenced pistol a familiar pressure against my thigh. She stared at me, eyes wide, caught between fight and flight. I tilted my head, letting the shadows fall away from my face just enough for her to see the calm in my eyes. 'Hey sweetheart,' I said, voice low and easy, 'mind if I hang out for a bit?' The question hung in the silence, the only ans…