The city outside Damian’s penthouse is quiet. Too quiet.
The skyline stretches endlessly, lights flickering in the distance, but inside, the air is thick with something heavier than silence—secrets.
I stare at the contract again, my fingers gripping the edges. My name. Ivy’s name. Written in a language not of this world. My mind keeps replaying Elias Calloway’s words, the warning I overheard.
“She can’t find out the truth.”
I don’t know what truth he meant. But I do know one thing—Damian is hiding something.
And I don’t trust him anymore.
I take a deep breath, trying to push away the growing panic in my chest. I need to think. I need to figure out what the hell is going on.
A sharp noise suddenly cuts through the silence—a thud, like something heavy landing on the balcony outside.
I freeze.
My heartbeat pounds against my ribs.
I am not alone.
Slowly, carefully, I move toward the balcony doors. The curtains billow slightly from the night breeze, but I see it—a shadow moving just beyond the glass.
Then—a figure steps into view.
Tall. Lean. Dangerous.
The man is dressed in black from head to toe, his body built for speed and precision. His messy dark brown hair is tousled from the wind, and his sharp green eyes glint under the moonlight. A scar runs down his jawline, cutting through the stubble, giving him an almost wicked, wolfish look.
Xander Vaughn. A rogue assassin. A man I haven’t seen in years. A man I once trusted… before he betrayed me.
I step back instinctively, my pulse racing. “Xander.”
He smirks, tilting his head. “Missed me, sweetheart?”
His voice is rough, teasing, but there’s an edge to it. A warning.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I demand, glancing toward the locked bedroom door. If Damian finds him here, Xander won’t be walking out alive.
Xander steps closer, effortlessly moving past the curtain and into the room, like he belongs here. Like he’s done this before.
His green eyes sweep over me, landing on the contract still clutched in my hands. His smirk fades. “So, you finally found it.”
A cold feeling slithers down my spine. “You know what this is?”
Xander exhales, rubbing a hand through his messy hair. “Yeah. And if you were smart, you’d burn it and run.”
My grip tightens on the paper. “Not happening.”
He sighs. “Of course not. You always did have a death wish.”
I scowl. “Why are you here, Xander?”
He studies me for a second, something flickering in his gaze. Then, in a voice lower than before, he says:
“You were never supposed to leave that wedding alive.”
The words hit me like a punch.
My breath catches. “What?”
Xander leans against the wall, crossing his arms. “You were set up. Whoever hired you to kill Ivy never planned on letting you walk away. The second you pulled the trigger, you were next.”
I feel sick.
I shake my head. “That doesn’t make sense. The job came through my usual contacts. There was no mention of a second hit.”
Xander scoffs. “You think they’d tell you? They wanted it clean. One assassin to do the job, then another to clean up the mess—meaning you.”
A sharp chill rushes through me. I wasn’t just hired to kill Ivy. I was a disposable piece.
“But it didn’t happen,” I whisper, thinking back to the moment at the wedding when someone else fired first.
Xander’s lips curl into a bitter smile. “No. It didn’t. Because someone else wanted Ivy alive.”
I swallow hard, my mind spinning. “Then who the hell was the real target?”
Xander holds my gaze. And then he says the words that change everything.
“It was never Ivy, Selene. It was Damian.”