Silent Killer: A Dark Female Spy Romance

1

SABRINA

The first time I killed someone, I was seventeen.

He was a politician who promised hope to a broken city but sold its secrets to the highest bidder.

My handler called him “a necessary evil.”

He liked to use those words, justifying what we did as if we were saving the world.

But I knew better.

There was nothing noble about this work.

It was bloody, messy, and merciless.

I’d watched my target for weeks, memorizing his every move.

When I finally pulled the trigger, I expected to feel something—guilt, maybe even fear.

But there was nothing.

Just silence.

That’s when I learned the truth: I was good at this because I was empty inside.

Years later, that emptiness was still there.

It was the only constant in my life, the only thing I could count on.

The world kept moving, but I stayed still, frozen in the shadow of who I might have been if I’d chosen differently.

If I’d run instead of agreeing to become a weapon for hire.

Now, I’m the best assassin in the business.

The jobs come and go, each one harder than the last, but I never falter.

That’s why they picked me for this mission.

My handler’s voice still echoed in my ears as I stood outside the nondescript building in the rain.

“This one’s different, Sabrina,” he had said. “Viktor’s no ordinary man. He’s unpredictable. Ruthless. He’ll see you coming from a mile away, so you’ll need to get close. Very close. Gain his trust. Make him believe in you. And when the time is right, you take him out.”

Simple orders.

But nothing about Viktor’s reputation suggested this would be simple.

An international arms dealer with connections to cartels, mercenaries, and governments, he was a ghost who lived in the cracks of the world’s power structures.

I’d studied him for weeks.

His movements were precise, almost surgical.

He didn’t just eliminate threats; he obliterated them.

This mission wasn’t about skill.

It was about survival.

They’d given me a slim file, some basic intel, and a warning: “Don’t underestimate him.”

But they’d underestimated me.

I wasn’t just a killer; I was a survivor.

The streets had taught me that long before my handler gave me a gun.

2

VIKTOR

They always send the pretty ones.

It’s a clever trick, dressing death in beauty.

And my God, I would be lying if I didn’t say she was sexy as fuck.

The curviest body with the fattest ass, she was my type of woman to the T.

But I know the game better than anyone, and I couldn’t let myself get distracted or lost as much as I wanted to forcefully make her take my throbbing cock up her ass.

She’s been watching me for weeks, though she’s careful not to linger too long in one place.

I’ve seen her reflections in windows, her shadow slipping through crowded streets.

Most men wouldn’t notice her.

But I’m not most men.

Sabrina.

That’s her name.

At least, that’s the name on the papers I’ve had pulled.

An alias, of course.

Everything about her is a carefully constructed lie.

I’ve read between the lines of her file, piecing together the parts that weren’t redacted.

A broken home.

A history of violence.

A career drenched in blood.

She’s a masterpiece of destruction.

But she doesn’t know how obvious her cracks are.

She’s not like the others they’ve sent.

There’s been a string of women before her who’ve tried to kill me, and they’ve all been unsuccessful.

I’ve always managed to get rid of them before they could ever execute their plan.

Pathetic little bitches thinking they could run game on me when I owned these streets, and I was smarter than anybody else out there.

It didn’t mean I couldn’t have a bit of fun, use them for my own twisted desires and bait in my missions, giving them the false hope that they were on my trusted side.

There’s something in Sabrina’s eyes—a darkness that mirrors my own.

She’s here to kill me, of course.

But she’ll have to do better than this if she wants to survive.

3

SABRINA

Two weeks ago, I sat across from my handler in a dimly lit safe house.