Irene's P.O.V:

"It's D-Day!" Clarrisa exclaimed, her eyes gleaming with excitement.

"I know," Irene Rei replied, her voice laced with calm certainty. "Everyone here has been talking about it." Irene was the top female assassin in the RedClaw, a name that commanded respect and fear alike. With nearly black hair and piercing blue eyes, she was a force to be reckoned with. Heads turned whenever she walked into a room, but Irene was more than just a pretty face. Despite the attention, she was untouchable. Even her best friend, Clarrisa, knew better than to cross that line.

When Irene and Clarrisa first met, Irene was colder than ice—no, colder than liquid nitrogen. But over the years, their bond deepened. Clarrisa was the only one who had ever glimpsed the softer side of Irene. Both women were products of the RedClaw, an elite organization of assassins. The citizens of Germany were blissfully ignorant of the darkness that lurked in their world until it was too late—until death stared them in the face. Irene knew this better than anyone. She had lost her parents, members of one of the top families in Berlin, to a bomb that destroyed everything. Her father's last act was to shield her with his body, saving her life but forever changing who she was.

Clarrisa and Irene had been inseparable since Irene joined the RedClaw. Clarrisa's father led the organization, so she had been raised among killers, even though her innocent demeanor might suggest otherwise. Clarrisa preferred a sweet, innocent style, while Irene dressed to kill, her outfits screaming danger and allure.

D-Day wasn't just any day—it was the day of the annual Cascade Ball, held at the Eyflim house as always. The event attracted the rich and powerful, making it a perfect hunting ground. This year, it promised to be even more interesting, with the mafia leader of the VanGuard rumored to attend. No one had ever seen his face, but tonight could be different. Also on the guest list was Sebastian Haven, Berlin's youngest multi-billionaire. Clarrisa had a crush on him—like every other girl in the city. Irene, however, couldn't care less. She was too focused on missions to waste time on some wealthy playboy.

With the ball looming, Irene and Clarrisa began to prepare.

---

I let my silky hair down, letting it drape over my shoulders to soften my look, a strategy Clarrisa mirrored. We stepped into the car, and the chauffeur handed us our emergency daggers—standard procedure in case things went south, though they usually didn't.



I was wearing full length black dress that was tight at the right places with an off the shoulder neckline as well as a long slit that almost reached my hips. Open enough to grab weapons and move around. Clarissa was wearing a thigh length lilac dress with a lace layer. Perfect for displaying her innocent cover.



The moment we entered the ballroom, my eyes locked onto the glimmering jewels, but more importantly, onto my target: Renoylds Charle. He was a man with a reputation as foul as his deeds—multiple accusations of sexual assault, all confirmed by my own investigations, and a thief who had siphoned funds meant for orphans to rebuild his crumbling business empire. As I scanned the room, noting the positions of the security guards and cameras, my mind was already formulating a plan.

Tonight's challenge was to remain unseen. If anyone caught even a glimpse of me, it would all be over. I assigned Clarrisa to watch my back, keeping lookout while I slipped out onto the balcony. My destination was the fourth floor, where Renoylds' office was located. Scaling the building was routine for me, but as I reached the third-floor balcony, I suddenly felt a sharp gaze on me.

A man was sitting there, casually holding a glass of wine. His voice was low and smooth as he spoke.

"Well, well, well... look what we have here."