Assassin's Last Billionaire

I Don't Know

-River-

“Whiskey. Double. Neat.” She nodded. A voice came from behind me before she could.....“Bad day?” I turned to see her.

Honey! Loud lipstick. Big curls. Gold hoop earrings. Confidence that made men either fall in love or feel incredibly insecure. She dropped into the booth across from me like she owned the place. Her coat was expensive. Her eyes were louder than her voice. “You’re late,” I murmured. “You’re still moody,” she replied, grinning. I didn’t smile, but something in my chest relaxed just seeing her. “You doing okay, Danny Baby?” she asked, voice light. I nearly chuckled. I nodded once. “It's not like Lucian has horns on his head, I'm fine.” She blinked “But I didn’t ask about Lucian.” I stammered, “ And I…..I didn’t…..I didn’t talk about him. I said I'm fine.” Oh god, why did I stammer. “I can see that.” She scanned me up and down mockingly. “I’m still mapping his routine. His access points are tighter than expected. Henry Kael is the issue.” Her eyes flicked up. “The manager?” “Too present. Too quiet. Always watching. If someone’s going to notice I’m not who I say I am, it’s him.”

Honey leaned back, swirling the drink. “I’ll handle him.” “How?” She smiled. “I’ll find something on him. A crack. Everyone has one.” I watched her for a second. “No direct confrontation. No trace.” “Please. I was trained by you.” I slid my empty glass aside and reached into my pocket, pulling out a bobby pin.

“Still remember this?” “What is this? High school?” she laughed. “Pick the sugar jar.” She raised a brow. “Seriously?” “Seriously. Quiet hands. Focus.” She muttered something under her breath and leaned across the table. The sugar jar had a decorative clasp. She inserted the pin, fumbled, cursed. I raised an eyebrow. “You’re laughing at me in your head.”

“No,” I said dryly. “I’m screaming.”

A click. The jar opened. She smirked, proud. “Still got it.” “Still slow.” We both chuckled, low and quiet. It was strange. Smiling in a place like this. Silence fell for a beat. Honey is one of the few people who calls her out, teases her, but also sees through the assassin mask and holds her when she’s breaking. “You haven’t said it,” Honey said, voice softer now. “But you’re scared.” I looked away. “I’m in control.” “You flinch when you say his name.” I didn’t respond. “River, this isn’t just a mission. This is tied to your past. Your family. Your grief. Our village. Friends.All of it. You have done it many times. You will do this time too.” “That’s why I have to finish this. But I don't know.” She didn’t push. Just leaned forward. “Then let’s finish it smart. Go home and rest. And go for them. You're not alone. I’m here.”

Her voice cracked slightly at the end. I hated that it made me feel something. She stood up. Reached over. Pulled me into a tight, warm hug. She always did this. Ever since we were kids, before bullets, before blood. Back when we only had scraped knees and empty stomachs. I let her hold me. Just for a second longer than I should have. “Keep me updated and don't worry if something happens I will handle the superiors. I’ve got your back, River.” she whispered. “Always.” “I know.” And I meant it. After Honey leaves the bar…

The bar door clicked shut behind Honey, her laughter still lingering in the air like perfume. I remained seated, my fingers curled around the half-empty glass of whiskey. Outside, rain tapped gently on the windows, rhythmic, indifferent. Inside me, however, was a storm that no amount of liquor could calm. I wasn’t supposed to feel this way. The feeling that I couldn't express to Honey and it's really irritating that it never happened before. She knew the mission. Lucian Vale. A pawn in a bloodstained game. I have ended lives with less information than I had on him.

And yet… ‘What if he’s innocent?’ The thought came uninvited, gnawing. His smiles on magazine covers. He was reckless, charming, adored, too easy to hate from a distance. But in person? He looked like someone trying to breathe under the weight of a thousand eyes.

And something about that felt… real. I shook my head, tried to kill the doubt.

But it whispered anyway. "What if I break him?" River had killed men with knives, guns, poisons that left no trace. But a broken heart? That was a different kind of cruelty. One that didn’t end in death, but lingered. Echoed. Scarred. And suddenly, for a woman trained to silence conscience, her silence felt loud. God, what’s wrong with me? Why am I afraid of hurting one man… after I’ve buried so many? Her reflection in the window didn’t answer. It only looked back with tired eyes and a truth she didn’t want to admit.

-Lucian-

The Dominion Football League Semi Finals

Velmira FC [ 3 - 0 ] Strandvik United

Two minutes on the clock. The crowd roared like thunder crashing inside a metal drum, their chants vibrating through Lucian's ribs. Flares painted the night sky in green and gold Valmiera's colors. The stadium pulsed with energy, euphoria bleeding from every seat, every flag, every clenched fist. “Captain! Captain!” “Lucian Vale! King of Velmira!” Strandvik’s defenders were slumped, backs bent, dragging their feet like ghosts. Three goals, one from him, two assisted. Not a single concession. Velmira didn’t just win. We dominated.

I scanned the crowd a sea of madness and joy and yet, my eyes searched for nothing in particular. No father. No mother. No Elena. Just noise. Still, something about tonight felt… whole. Until my gaze fell on the VIP balcony. She stood there. That woman again. The new dietary lead. Hair loose. Lips slightly parted. Unmoving in a world that screamed. I didn’t know why, but seeing her made the fire in my lungs flare hotter. Something unreadable in her stillness. Standing like a f*****g Goddess there. She didn’t cheer. She didn’t clap. She just looked at him. Like she knew something.

“Lucian!” My teammate grabbed me as the final whistle screamed. Game over.

The stadium erupted. Fans poured confetti from the stands, hugged strangers, lit fireworks in the aisles. “Valmiera FC is going to the final.” But f**k I'm distracted in the match looking at a….from whatever heaven she came from. I should be smiling. I should be drunk on glory. Instead, I turned once more to the balcony. But she was already gone. I stood there for a beat too long, surrounded by chaos but feeling hollow at the center.

“Lucian! Media wants a word, champ!” Alex’ voice snapped through the noise, his hand gripping my shoulder like a vice. His smile was for the cameras, not for me. It always was. I nodded numbly, pulled myself into the present. The moment. Or at least tried to.

****

Steam still clung to my skin as I stepped out of the shower, towel slung around my waist. The roar of the crowd still echoed in my head a chorus of “Lucian! Captain!” that should have made me feel like a god. But all I felt was… wired. Not from the win. From the look she gave me. From that damn.... balcony. The locker room was quiet now. Most of the guys had already left, loud with celebration and sweat-soaked laughter. I ran a hand through my damp hair, ready to get dressed, maybe sit in the ice tub—

“You should rest tonight,” came a voice behind me. I stopped, towel still around my neck. Turned slowly. She stood near the bench, arms folded, holding a clipboard and a printed chart. I froze. Literally froze. For a second, I thought I imagined her. But no…..she was there.

Standing like she’d materialized from the same thoughts I was trying to shake off.