Failed Mission, Three Assassins Obsessed with MeChapter 1
Scarlett Draven had been with Ryan Carter since she was sixteen. On the night of her coming-of-age, she had given herself to him as a gift.
From that night on, she became more than his lover—she was the sharpest blade in his hand, the weapon he trusted to take out his enemies.
This mission, however, was dangerous. The target was Victor Kane. Rumor had it he was a madman who never forgave, a man who returned every slight with blood. But Scarlett wasn’t afraid.
“Target locked, sir. When do I fire?” Her finger hovered over the trigger as she steadied her breath.
Ryan’s voice crackled through the earpiece, low and decisive. “Now.”
The moment the word left his lips, Scarlett squeezed the trigger. The bullet screamed out of the barrel—but for the first time in her career, Night Owl missed. Through the scope, she caught Victor Kane raising his glass toward her, that mocking smile tugging at his lips. His eyes glittered as if to say, Cheers.
A chill ran through her. There was no chance for a follow-up shot. She had to leave. If captured, she knew the fate waiting would be worse than death.
Scarlett folded the rifle in one swift motion, forcing the tremor from her hands.
“Sir, extraction route?”
Only static hissed back. Her blood ran cold. “Sir?”
The silence stretched, heavy as lead. She pressed the earpiece tighter, knuckles white, clinging as if it were her last lifeline. Nothing came back but dead static. Hope drained from her chest, inch by inch, like warmth seeping from a dying body.
She waited until every breath scraped her throat raw, until her heartbeat pounded like torture, until enemy footsteps swelled around her like a tide. But the voice she trusted never came. They caught her, cuffed her in cold steel and dragged her before Victor Kane.
Scarlett thrashed like a cornered animal, fury blazing. How had she failed to put a bullet through him? Victor regarded her lazily, swirling his drink before letting his eyes settle on her.
“Well,” he drawled, lips curving, “aren’t you a feisty little cat.” He tipped his glass toward her, voice laced with mockery. “Ryan sent you to kill me? He must be feeling bold.”
The mention of Ryan’s name snapped something inside her. She lifted her chin, voice sharp, “This has nothing to do with him. I hate you so much, I wanted you dead!”