The weapon

CHAPTER ONE

CLARA’S POV

“Take this magazine,” Julian said coldly, as he offered me the blue wrapped stalk of documents.

“What's this?” I questioned, while scanning the room despite his dangerous glare.

“We’re running out of time, Clara Voss. Those responsible for you father’s death should be with him by now,” he said, his sharp gaze cutting through me as his words forced memories to crash into my mind, reminding me that my father’s death had never been natural but a carefully crafted scheme.

“Adrian Vale is back from his trip. After his wife died I heard he took one year off with his daughter.” Julian said calculatively, while my face was fixed to the magazine in my hands.

As I heard his name my inner core burnt so hard. Knowing that the bloodline of my father's murderer was still alive.

“Relax,” Julian scoffed.

“Adrian isn't someone you can infiltrate easily. His a cold-hearted, ruthless business man and trust me he never let his enemies go scout free.” He warned, as he stared at me intensely like a parent monitoring his trained dog intended to break it if they don't obey.

“I don't care!” I exclaimed, but deep down I knew I was still scared of that family despite my foster father trainings.

You’ve waited twelve years for this,” Julian continued as he lit the cigarette between his fingers, his voice echoing across the warehouse while smoke curled into the tense air. “Don’t tell me you are scared..."

“Of who?” I cut in and scoffed under my breath, my lips curling with disdain as I forced the word out. “Adrian and his trolls called family?”

“Our mission begins tomorrow,” Julian Blackthorne ordered, his voice loud enough to snap me back to attention as I steadied myself and focused on the task ahead.

“I will take care of it,” My voice was so desperate, that I was ready to tear down the whole Adrian's bloodline.

“Daughter, I've you sent your application to the hotel.” The only time he called me that name was when he wants me to do what he says. At least he trained an orphan like me when I had nobody.

“I’ve applied as a private chef in one of his luxury hotels,” I said, my tone firm as my eyes remained fixed on the documents, flipping through each page carefully while absorbing every detail about him. 

“Your worst nightmare is not far. Let the battle begin,” I whispered under my breath, my jaw tightening as the words settled into my resolve.

“That’s interesting but I hope you’ve applied to the right hotel,” he replied coldly as he sipped from a glass of alcohol, watching me with a calculating look that never missed anything. “I applied to one of his favorite hotels.

“I heard he goes there every year to mourn his wife’s death anniversary,” I said, my voice steady but filled with rage as the weight of his past only added to the complexity I refused to acknowledge.

“He’s the son of the man that ruined my family, the reason I was trained brutally and turned into this,” I murmured, gripping the documents tightly as a surge of anger coursed through me, because ever since my father died, I had been shaped into something sharper, something dangerous. 

For a fleeting moment, I imagined tearing his face apart, but I knew better than to act on impulse because this mission required precision, not recklessness, and instead of striking blindly, I would slip into his life like an angel in disguise.

“This man is far smarter than you think, which is why I trained you the way I did so you can fight him,” Julian said as we stepped into the darkest room of the underground warehouse, where a projector displayed Adrian’s entire bloodline from his father down to his little daughter, each marked with red paint that signified their deaths by my hands.

The sight tightened something inside me because the story I carried since childhood replayed itself again, my father’s blood staining the asphalt, a car accident with no witness and no justice, just a family that walked away untouched with his blood on their hands. 

I lowered my gaze to the documents again and continued reading, taking in every detail as it confirmed that Adrian Vale was a widower with one daughter, and his wife’s anniversary was tomorrow.

The man in the photograph carried bitterness in his eyes, the kind that came from facing the cruelty of the world, and for a brief second, I saw something human in him before my foster father’s voice cut through my thoughts. 

“Grief makes men careless, and even powerful men are not exceptions,” he said, reading my expression in a way that always unsettled me because it reminded me I could never hide anything from him.

His words sank deep, leaving no room for mercy or pity as I straightened and met his gaze. “Tomorrow our game begins,” I said quietly, closing the file and tossing it back to him as my decision settled firmly within me.

“I trust you, daughter. You’re one of the best chefs I know, and anything about knives has always worked well in your hands, whether on the battlefield or in the kitchen,” he said with a faint smile that didn’t reach his eyes, while his voice turned colder again as he added that we would make Adrian fall gradually.

“But wouldn’t it be better to launch a direct attack? There’s no need to play a spy game,” I said, unable to hide the impatience creeping into my voice as the need for revenge clawed at me.

“That's too slow,” I said impatiently, clenching my hands on the magazine.

“Adrian is a wise man. Truth never slips from his hands, so we have to remain invisible,” he replied quietly, his gaze sharpening as he laid out the plan with calculated precision, explaining that we would gather information first, his weaknesses, his business strategies, and then destroy him in a way he would never see coming.

The room grew heavier with every word, thick with anger, liquor, and cigarette smoke, yet beneath all of it, something continued to bother me because the photograph I had seen did not match the monster I had been told about. 

“He doesn’t look like a monster,” I said before I could stop myself, the thought slipping out as doubt flickered briefly within me.

“Don’t confuse appearance with truth. Men like Adrian Vale destroy lives and businesses,” he replied quietly, ending the conversation as he left the room and left me alone with my thoughts.

I made my way to the training room, forcing everything else aside as I prepared myself, tightening the belt around my waist while gripping different books on how to destroy an enemy hiddenly. If only I had his kind of wealth I would have resurge the case of my father's death but my foster father said that wouldn't be necessary.

Tomorrow night, he would be at the hotel, vulnerable, and the more I thought about the cold expression in his photograph, the more something unfamiliar tried to distract my focus, but I pushed it down because someone had to pay for my childhood.

I had been only seven years old when I lost my father in a fatal accident caused by an unknown syndicate, and justice had been nothing but a distant illusion ever since, so I let the anger consume me as I continued throwing the knives, ignoring the burn in my palm as it turned red. 

Tomorrow, I would step into Adrian’s world, not as an enemy he could see, but as a spy sent to ruin him from within, smiling at him while standing in his most vulnerable state.

I didn’t know what his world would look like, but I was ready to tear through it completely, even if it meant tearing through my own heart to destroy Adrian Vale, because weapons were never meant to fear their enemies, they were meant to strike straight into their hearts, and that had always been my perfect aim. 

Defeating Adrian’s family was not just a mission, it was my purpose, and whether they fell by my hands or I destroyed everything their name stood for, I knew I would not stop until it was done.