Deception

Chapter 1

Eliana

Five months left.

I tightened my grip around the silver locket until its sharp edges dug into my palm, the familiar sting grounding me in the present. It was the last piece of a life that no longer existed, the only thing I had left of my mother. Even after fourteen years, I couldn't bring myself to let it go.

I was six when I lost my parents. We had been driving home from a theme park on a rain-soaked night after I begged them to take me there. I remembered throwing a tantrum until my father laughed in defeat and turned the car around. It was supposed to be a happy memory. Instead, it became the last one we ever made together.

The accident happened so quickly that even now, the details came to me only in fragments. A pair of blinding headlights, the deafening scream of twisting metal, shattered glass scattering through the air, and then silence. When I opened my eyes in the hospital, I was told I was the only survivor.

After the funeral, the court appointed my uncle as my legal guardian. At first, he welcomed me with open arms, or at least that's what I believed. It didn't take long to realize his kindness wasn't for me. It was for the insurance money my parents had left behind.

Once every cent had been spent, so was his patience.

The years that followed blurred into a cycle of temporary homes and reluctant smiles. My grandmother kept me for a while before deciding she was too old to raise another child. My aunt lasted only a few months before sending me somewhere else. Then came my granduncle, who treated me like an obligation rather than family. I was never anyone's daughter anymore. Just another mouth to feed, another burden waiting to be passed along.

Eventually, that ended.

I was kidnapped.

The metallic crackle of my earpiece pulled me back to the present before I could linger on the memory.

"Target's in."

The familiar synthesized voice carried no trace of age or identity beneath its digital distortion. For nine years, six months, and three weeks, I had obeyed that voice without ever knowing who it truly belonged to. Whoever they were, they had made certain I would never recognize them.

I slipped the locket beneath the collar of my tactical suit before lowering myself behind my rifle. Rain drummed steadily against the rooftop, washing over the concrete as the city's neon lights shimmered in the puddles below. Through the thermal scope, the world dissolved into shades of black, grey, and glowing heat signatures.

Back then, I believed the Syndicate had saved me.

When my own family had abandoned me, they gave me food, shelter, an education, and a place to belong. To an eleven-year-old girl with nowhere else to go, it felt like kindness. For the first time since my parents died, I wasn't unwanted.

But the Syndicate never believed in charity.

Everything they gave me came with a price.

They trained me to fight before they taught me algebra. I learned how to strip a pistol before I learned to drive. Languages, surveillance, infiltration, marksmanship, hand-to-hand combat, I mastered them all because failure was never presented as an option. Every lesson shaped me into exactly what they wanted.

An assassin.

Their ghost.

Their most valuable weapon.

Eliana White, the girl who officially didn't exist.

Movement flickered inside the penthouse across the street. A man stepped into view, illuminated by the warm lights spilling from floor-to-ceiling windows.

Marcus Sawyers.

To the public, he was a respected corporate executive who specialized in international shipping and logistics. To the Syndicate, he was a financier of one of the largest human trafficking networks in Southeast Asia. The shipping routes that built his fortune transported far more than cargo.

My assignments were almost always people like him.

Perhaps that was intentional. Perhaps they knew eliminating monsters made it easier for me to live with the blood on my hands.

"Wind's south-southwest. Four knots."

The voice in my earpiece remained calm, measured, almost reassuring.

"Take the shot when you're ready, Eli. Extraction is standing by. Don't linger."

Even after all these years, I found comfort in hearing it. Strange, considering that same voice had shaped me into a killer. It was the only constant in my life, the only presence that had never abandoned me.

I exhaled slowly, letting every distraction leave with my breath. The rain faded into the background. The city disappeared. My heartbeat slowed until nothing existed except the crosshairs resting at the center of Marcus Vance's chest.

My finger tightened around the trigger.

The suppressed rifle released nothing more than a muted hiss.

A fraction of a second later, a tiny fracture appeared in the glass before spreading outward like a spider's web. Marcus Vance collapsed onto the hardwood floor before he even realized what had happened.

One shot.

Clean.

Instant.

Silent.

"Target down," I said into the comms, my voice as emotionless as ever.

"Confirmed," the voice replied immediately. "Pack it up."

There was a brief pause before the final instruction came, just as it always did.

"Go home, Grace."

Grace.

Not Eliana.

Grace.

A name I had never questioned, despite never understanding why he called me that.

I worked quickly, my hands moving on instinct. Within ninety seconds, the rifle had been dismantled into neatly organized components and tucked inside a custom violin case lined with black velvet. A long designer trench coat concealed the tactical suit beneath it, and after smoothing down my rain-damp hair, I looked no different from any other young woman leaving a late-night rehearsal.

By the time I stepped out of the maintenance stairwell and onto the bustling streets below, the assassin had disappeared.

I was simply Eliana again.

Another face drifting through the sea of strangers beneath the city's neon lights.

My fingers found the locket beneath my shirt once more.

Five months.

Just five more months until my contract ended.

Five months until the faceless voice promised I could disappear for good.

No more missions.

No more blood.

No more ghosts.

A normal life.

The thought almost felt unreal.

I drew a slow breath, the cold night air filling my lungs until it stung. Instead of shrinking from the chill, I welcomed it.

For the first time in years, freedom no longer felt like an impossible dream.

It felt close enough to touch.