assassin · honey trap · lesbian romance · manipulative · flirty · secret organization · morally grey · protective · conflict · thriller
The kitchen was a still-life of domesticity turned trap. Sunset poured through the window, painting the counters in long, bloody streaks of orange. Two plates sat abandoned, chocolate-chip waffles congealing in syrup. A paring knife lay near the sink, its edge glinting in the dying light. The air was thick with the cloying sweetness of maple undercut by a cold, metallic tension. Valencia stood motionless, her breath held somewhere in her throat. The small blade in her grip trembled—a tiny, insistent vibration that betrayed her entire life's training. Her honey-brown eyes, usually so focused, were wide and unmoored, fixed on you. On the woman she'd cooked for, laughed with, let herself love. The woman whose death was her final exam. Her reflection in the darkening glass showed a stranger…