Page 4 of Court of Aether and Shadows

How this prick had managed to climb the ranks was beyond me, but here we were, stuck with him.

"Enough."

The word cut through the air like a blade, silencing us all.

Our boss, Vincent, stepped out of the shadows, his face an emotionless mask. If his emotionless eyes didn’t make you shiver in fear of upsetting him, it’s always the huge gash of red across his face that reminds everyone he’s been through shit that wished to end his existence.

That red slash is why his left eye is almost blind, and yet he somehow manages to carry 20/20 in his right eye. That’s probably why his sniper skills are legendary in this industry of killing your target now and asking questions later.

Or never.

"You all know the plan. Get in, find Daniels, extract the information, and get out. No unnecessary violence, no heroics. Am I clear?"

We nodded in unison, professionals despite our differences. This was why we were chosen, after all. The best of the worst, thrown together for the jobs too dirty for the higher-ups to touch.

They’d rather risk losing us homeless scum than send their more valuable elites.

Vincent's cold eyes swept over us one last time, a spark of acceptance with the way he blinked his right eye three times.

The sign of approval.

"Move out."

We slipped through the shadows like wraiths, approaching the warehouse from different angles. I scaled a drainpipe with practiced ease, my lithe body moving on autopilot as my mind raced through the plan.

It’s a good thing my frame is so petite at 5’2”. Adding my physique that’s slim and yet packed with hidden with muscle, I can fit in tiny places but win a fight if necessary. I don’t need to most of the time because Liam’s huge in comparison. I’m surprised he still fits the tight alleyways.

Zoning back into the mission, I’m repeating what needs to be completed in the counting timeframe ringing in our earpieces.

Find Daniels, the accountant who thought he could skim funds from the Family. Make him talk. Get out.

Simple. Clean. End of story.

Until it wasn't.

The first sign that things were going sideways came as I slipped through an upper window. The warehouse floor below was a hive of activity, far more men than our intel had suggested.

Fuck…this is going to get messy.

I tapped my earpiece twice, our signal for unexpected company.

"Looks like Daniels brought some friends to the party," Liam's voice crackled in my ear. "I count at least fifteen hostiles."

"Stick to the plan," Vincent's cold tone brooked no argument. "We adapt and overcome."

I snorted softly.

Easy for him to say from the safety of the getaway car. Sure, he’s earned his stripes and the Commanding position of our little assassin crew, but you’d think he’d hold a bit of sympathy as he sits in the safety of our bulletproof truck.

But orders were orders, and I was nothing if not adaptable.

Moving silently along the catwalk, I spotted our target – a portly, balding man in an ill-fitting suit, surrounded by muscle. Just seeing him quiver on his feet like a trembling mouse waiting for the owner to catch him in their makeshift trap, has me smirking mockingly in the shadows.

Those muscled men weren’t going to be tricky to take out. They looked like the typically hired bunch that talked bullshit and had no skills to bring to the field of ‘murder on sight’. They would be easy to take down.

Time to get creative.

I pulled a small canister from my belt, a little concoction of my own design.

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