Chapter 4The Don’s Favorite Assassin

A few days later, the LA morning news exploded.

Helicopters circled over Beverly Hills. Sirens screamed through the quiet, wealthy neighborhood.

I sat in my car, parked at the corner of the street. I took a sip of my iced Americano and watched the show.

Last night, Tristan’s four hidden vaults in Southern California had been burned to ashes.

Hard evidence of his mob ties, money laundering, and faked campaign funds had been anonymously emailed to the top thirty news outlets in the country.

His entire family was ruined overnight.

Marcello’s efficiency was terrifying.

The front door of the mansion was smashed open.

Tristan, once so dapper and righteous, was now in messy pajamas. Two heavily armed FBI agents twisted his arms behind his back and slapped on a pair of handcuffs.

He struggled, screaming, but they shoved him into the police car.

I smiled, satisfied. I tossed my coffee cup into a trash can.

I put on my Tom Ford sunglasses and slammed my foot on the gas.

After being used by my own father and betrayed by my fiancé, I had finally learned one thing.

In this world, whether it’s high society or the mob, no place is truly clean.

Except for my real home.

The underground organization that raised me to be a top-tier assassin—“The Syndicate.”

I flew back to New York that night.

I thought, after all the backstabbing out there, at least I had them. My comrades. My handler, who trusted me without question.

We were killers. Our hands were stained with blood. But we had a code. An unbreakable rule.

Never betray your own.

Brooklyn. An abandoned industrial air-raid shelter.

I expertly bypassed the outer sentries. I walked to the door, disguised as a rusted wall panel.

Iris scan. Fingerprint verification.

Beep—Identity confirmed: Codename Scarlett.

The heavy door slid open. I finally let go of the tension I’d held for a year. I stepped across the threshold, letting my guard down for the first time in a long while.

I was already imagining how I’d respond to my teammates’ welcome.

But I wasn’t met with the familiar smell of gun oil and clinking beer bottles.

I was met with dead silence.

I froze.

A dangerous chill shot up from my feet to my spine.

Blinding searchlights snapped on, pinning me in place.

Out of the darkness, a dozen assault rifles, all fitted with laser sights, leveled at me.

Every single one was aimed at my heart.

A swarm of cold, red dots danced over my body, finally settling on my chest and forehead.

If I moved an inch, they would turn me into Swiss cheese.

I squinted, my eyes adjusting to the harsh light.

When I saw the faces behind the guns, my breath caught in my throat.

The man in front was Leo. The sniper who once took a bullet for me.

To my left, behind cover, was Mia. The hacker I’d shared countless secrets with.

These were my most trusted comrades.

The people I thought were my family. The ones who would never betray me.

“Leo?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

The next second, my partners clicked the safeties off their guns.

I tightened my grip on the pistol under my coat. My heart sank into a black pit.