The sitting room fell into an uncomfortable silence after Viktor and Gareth left.

Toby still held the cloaked woman's hand, his innocent eyes staring up at her like she was the most fascinating thing in the world.

The kid had no sense of danger—none at all.

But the woman, she just stood there like a damn statue, not moving, not speaking, barely even breathing.

Kaida leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, red eyes locked onto the stranger. Every instinct in her body screamed that this bitch was trouble.

The way she held herself, the hollow look in those eyes, the faint scent of blood that clung to her despite the dirt and grime—yeah, this wasn't some rescued slave.

This was a killer.

But looking at her frail frame, those bony wrists poking out from under the cloak, the way her shoulders hunched forward like she'd been beaten into submission—Kaida's lip curled.

'Pathetic.' Whatever threat this woman might've been once, starvation and abuse had hollowed her out. She looked like a strong breeze would snap her in half.

"Sit down," Kaida said, her voice sharp.

The woman didn't react. Didn't even twitch.

Toby tugged on her hand gently. "Come on, aunty. Sit with me."

Slowly, like a puppet on strings, the woman moved. She sat on the edge of the couch, stiff and mechanical, her head still bowed. Toby plopped down beside her, swinging his little legs happily.

Kaida pushed off the doorframe and walked closer, her boots clicking against the marble floor.

She stopped a few feet away, studying the woman's face—or what little she could see of it beneath that hood.

"You got a name?" Kaida asked.

Nothing.

"Where'd you come from?"

Silence.

"Why are you here?"

Still nothing. The woman just sat there, hands folded in her lap, looking like a corpse that forgot to lie down.

Kaida's jaw clenched. She hated this—hated people who wouldn't talk, wouldn't fight back, wouldn't give her anything to work with.

But more than that, she hated the feeling crawling up her spine. The feeling that this woman wasn't broken at all.

She was waiting.

Kaida took another step forward, her hand drifting toward the dagger at her waist. "No," she said suddenly, her tone shifting. "Let's put it like this..."

Her fingers wrapped around the hilt of her blade, and she leaned down slightly, her red eyes narrowing into slits.

"Are you here to assassinate someone, huh?"

For the first time since entering the manor, the woman moved.

Her head lifted slowly, the hood falling back just enough to reveal her face. Pale skin. Sharp features. And eyes—hollow, yellow eyes that looked like they'd seen death a thousand times and stopped caring.

Those eyes met Kaida's red ones.

And Kaida knew.

Her suspicion crystallized into confirmation in an instant. This wasn't some traumatized slave. This was an assassin. A weapon. Someone sent here with a purpose.

The air between them grew heavy, thick with unspoken understanding. Neither of them moved. Neither of them blinked.

It was like staring into a mirror—two predators sizing each other up, waiting to see who would strike first.

Toby looked between them, confused but not scared. "Aunty? Are you okay?"

The woman's gaze didn't leave Kaida's.

Kaida's mind raced. If this bitch was here to kill someone, who was the target? Viktor? Helena? Someone else?

And then a thought hit her—a terrible, beautiful thought that made her grip on the dagger loosen slightly.

'What if she was sent to kill Viktor?'

The idea sent a thrill through Kaida's chest. If Viktor died, if some random assassin took him out, then Mira would be free.

Kaida wouldn't have to play these stupid games anymore. She could just grab her sister and run, and no one would be able to stop her.

Her hand fell away from the dagger entirely.

"Alright," Kaida said quietly, her voice cold and calculating. "Kill that bastard, and I'll let you live."

The woman's yellow eyes flickered—just barely, but it was there. A reaction. The first real sign of life since she'd arrived.

Kaida straightened up, taking a step back. She turned toward the doorway, already planning her next move. Get Mira. Get out. Let this assassin do her job, and—

"Did you just tell her to kill me?"

Kaida froze.

That voice. Viktor's voice.

She spun around, her heart slamming against her ribs.

Viktor stood in the doorway, one hand clutching his chest dramatically, his face twisted into an expression of mock hurt. "Sniff... did you see, Helena? Your sister is trying to kill me."

Kaida's eyes went wide.

'Helena?'

Her gaze snapped to the figure standing beside Viktor—a woman in a maid's dress, her head bowed submissively. Black hair. Familiar posture.

No.

No, that wasn't possible.

"Sister Mira?" Kaida whispered, confusion flooding her mind. Why the hell was Viktor calling Mira 'Helena'? What kind of sick game was he—

Her thoughts shattered.

The cloaked woman 'moved.'

It happened so fast Kaida's brain lagged behind her eyes. One moment the assassin was sitting. The next, she was a blur of motion—body coiling, then exploding forward like a viper striking.

Her hand shot out.

Kaida's instincts screamed. Her body reacted before her mind caught up, hand slamming down to block the grab at her waist—

But the woman wasn't there anymore.

She'd 'feinted.'

The realization hit Kaida like ice water. The assassin's hand had already closed around the dagger's hilt, yanking it free with a smooth, practiced twist that spoke of years—decades—of training.

'No. No no no—'

Kaida's hand grasped at empty air.

The woman was already moving, already sprinting, boots pounding against marble as she closed the distance in three explosive strides.

Straight toward the maid.

Toward 'Helena.'

Toward 'Mira.'

Time slowed to a crawl. Kaida's eyes tracked the motion, saw the dagger raised high, saw her sister's face—'her sister'—frozen in shock, Green eyes going wide as dinner plates as she realized death was coming for her.

And Kaida understood.

'Not Viktor. Never Viktor.'

'Her target was always Mira.'

"NO!" The word tore out of Kaida's throat like a wounded animal.

She threw herself forward, legs pumping, arm reaching out desperately. Her fingers grazed the edge of the assassin's cloak—'got it!'—and she yanked hard.

The fabric slipped through her grip like water.

The assassin twisted mid-sprint, her body moving with a fluidity that shouldn't have been possible for someone so starved, so broken-looking.

She didn't even slow down.

Just altered her angle slightly, dodging Kaida's grab like it was nothing.

'How?'

Kaida's eyes widened in disbelief. She was a trained guard—had been fighting since she could walk. She'd caught assassins before, stopped killers twice her size.

This woman looked like a skeleton wrapped in skin.

And Kaida couldn't even 'touch' her.

'She's stronger than she looks. Faster. I judged wrong—'

The realization burned through her like acid. She'd dismissed this woman as weak. Broken. No threat.

'Stupid. Stupid!'

Her momentum carried her forward and she hit the floor hard, shoulder slamming into marble with a crack that sent pain exploding through her arm.

She rolled, ignoring the agony, hand already reaching for the second blade strapped to her thigh.

The cloaked woman raised the stolen dagger high, yellow eyes locked onto Mira's frozen form with surgical precision.

Three feet away.

Two.

Mira's mouth opened in a silent scream, her body rigid with terror.

Kaida's fingers closed around the hilt of her backup blade.

"N-NO—!"

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