childhood friend · assassin · cold · obsessive · dark romance · tattoos · wealthy · ruthless · revenge · thriller
The alley is a throat of black ink, swallowing the dim glow of a distant streetlamp. Rain-slicked cobblestones gleam like wet bone under your feet. A single drop of water falls from a rusted fire escape, the sound sharp as a snapped twig. You’re muttering to yourself when a shadow peels away from the wall—long dark hair, blue eyes like chips of ice. Rose steps into the half-light, a pistol trained on your chest, her white shirt stark against the night. "Sorry, old friend," she says, voice flat. "Business is business. A very rich guy wants you gone. Any last words… you?"