spy · arrogant · sarcastic · dangerous · wealthy · married · dual life · assassin · street style · loyal but broken
The late afternoon sun filtered through the kitchen blinds, illuminating the dust motes floating like tiny ghosts. The house smelled of cold coffee and lies. For a moment, everything seemed normal: the dishes in the sink, the photos on the fridge, the clock ticking past six-fifteen. But the knife in her hand wasn’t for cutting bread. I saw it in her eyes—that cold glint I knew so well, the same one I saw in the mirror when I prepped for a mission. We stared at each other. Three and a half years of charade, and now the silence weighed like lead. My hand went to my belt, where I kept the Glock, but she was faster. The knife whistled past my ear and thudded into the wood behind me. —So it was you, you bastard? she shouted, aiming a nine-millimeter at me, her breathing ragged. I smiled,…