To kill or To love

Chapter 3 The Shadow Revenant

Earlier in the office

The office lights hummed faintly above her head, though she barely noticed. Vesper Lancaster sat behind her glass desk, posture straight, eyes sharp, yet her mind was wandering somewhere darker. The reports in front of her remained untouched. Numbers, deals, mergers—none of it mattered at this moment.

Her pen tapped twice, then stilled. She had drifted again into that blurred space between past and present. A flicker of memory, the echo of her father’s voice raised in rage, her mother’s silence, the crack of glass shattering. She pulled herself out with a sharp inhale, forcing her thoughts back into place. Memories were a weakness. And weakness had no place in her world.

The door clicked. Her secretary stepped in, quietly placing a file on her desk.

“Your schedule for tomorrow, Miss Lancaster,” she said softly, bowing her head.

Vesper gave her a single glance. Cool, distant, enough to freeze the girl’s breath in her throat. “Leave it there,” she said, her tone sharp as the edge of a blade.

The secretary nodded quickly and disappeared. Silence returned.

Vesper leaned back in her chair, fingers drumming lightly. On the surface, she was the Lancaster heiress, the youngest business mogul in the country, a woman people admired, envied, or hated. But beneath that, beneath the polished image and empire, was the name only a few dared to whisper.

Shadow Revenant.

The ghost in the system. The phantom agent. A hacker, an infiltrator, a blade in the dark. Some thought Revenant was a myth, a code name the agency used for propaganda. But in truth, she was very real. Very alive. And very dangerous.

Her phone buzzed once, vibrating silently across the desk. She flipped it open. A secure line. A familiar voice.

“Revenant,” Raven’s voice carried through, smooth, calm, and steady. The only one who dared call her by that name directly. “There’s a mission. Priority one.”

Her lips curved faintly—not into a smile, but into the cold trace of anticipation. “Go on.”

“Berlin. Tomorrow night. Extraction and elimination. A double-faced target, dealing weapons under the guise of diplomacy. Goes by the alias Voller. Intel suggests possible ties to a bigger web, maybe even closer to your family’s interests.”

The pause after family was deliberate. Raven knew. He always knew how far to push her without stepping over the line.

Her nails clicked against the desk. “Details,” she said simply.

“They’ll be in the file drop within the hour. Your flight is set. Standard cover, but heavy security is expected. Voller doesn’t breathe without guards around him.”

She leaned forward, eyes narrowing, the faint gleam of the city lights reflecting off the glass walls behind her. “Guards are not a problem.”

Raven chuckled faintly. “I never doubted that. Oh—and one more thing. Agency chatter says your uncle’s been moving money again. Offshore accounts. Large sums. Watch your back.”

Her jaw tightened. Of course. The family again. Always the family. “I don’t need reminders,” she said coldly.

“You’re still human, Revenant. Even if you hate hearing it,” Raven replied.

The line clicked dead before she could respond. Typical of him. Always leaving a parting word that dug under her skin.

Vesper closed the phone and leaned back, staring at the ceiling for a long moment. Shadow Revenant was wanted by governments, feared by criminals, respected by the agency. Vesper Lancaster was despised, envied, and plotted against by her own blood. Both names were hers. Both masks she wore flawlessly.

And yet, both drew the same result: she was alone.

She stood, moving to the wide window of her office. The city sprawled beneath her like a restless beast, glittering with neon and ambition. People below ran after wealth, power, love. She already had wealth. Power. Love was irrelevant. What she wanted now was control.

Her reflection in the glass was sharp, almost ghostlike against the city lights. Vesper Lancaster, the world’s richest young businesswoman. Shadow Revenant, the underground’s phantom. Two halves of one truth.

Her phone buzzed again, this time with an alert. The file Raven promised had arrived. She turned back to her desk, eyes already calculating.

Berlin. Voller. A double-faced man hiding behind diplomacy. He thought he could move unseen. She would prove him wrong.

As she opened the file, the faintest sound caught her attention—a shift in the air, the almost inaudible creak of movement near the window. Her hand slid beneath her desk, fingers brushing the hidden blade strapped there.

But when she glanced up again, there was nothing. Only her reflection. Only the city.

Still, the corner of her mouth twitched. She had felt it. Someone had been watching.

And if they thought they were playing her, they would soon learn the truth: Vesper Lancaster played everyone.