The Assassin Alpha's Heir

Ivana’s POV

"You've got two hours and fifty-eight minutes to kill Alpha Alfonso. If another assassin reaches him first... don't bother coming home."

He said the words calmly, no hint of threat detected behind his tone. That was what made the Director dangerous. He hardly ever yelled or threw lousy fits. He just stated facts, knowing that failure under his roof meant a body bag before sunrise.

I didn't even drop my gaze. Three hours? They're really trying to make me earn my paycheck today.

"Understood," I said simply.

There was no point in arguing. I reached out, snatched the black leather file off his desk, and turned on my heel. As my combat boots clicked against the polished floor toward the private elevator, I flipped open the folder, my eyes scanning the text at lightning speed, memorizing every single detail before the doors even slid open.

Alpha Alfonso. Head of the northern mafia syndicate. He was making a rare public appearance tonight at the Grand Horizon Plaza. Security was already packed tight because there had been two sloppy assassination attempts on him earlier this week. But that wasn't the detail that made my jaw clench.

My thumb stopped on a red-stamped note at the bottom of the second page.

Multiple contracts issued. Open bounty.

I let out a low, breathy sigh as the elevator doors closed. They hadn't just hired me. They had thrown the contract out to the entire underground market. The client didn't give a damn who took Alfonso down, as long as he was bleeding out on the floor before midnight. This wasn't just a standard hit anymore. It was a race, and I hated sharing my money.

I checked my watch. Two hours and fifty-four minutes left.

My original plan to set up a long-range nest three blocks away was completely useless now. By the time I set up my rifle, another hunter would have already dropped him with a closer angle. I had to improvise, and in this business, hesitation was just a fancy word for suicide.

I burst out of the back exit of the building into the cool evening air, my eyes immediately assessing the city. The evening rush-hour traffic was jammed down the main boulevard. 

I clicked my tongue, cutting left into a narrow alleyway that bypassed the main strip entirely. While breaking into a fast jog, I pulled my burner phone out, tapping out a quick text to my contact for the plaza’s ventilation blueprints.

Every second mattered. I was already running out of time as is. 

Twenty minutes later, I was on the perimeter of the Grand Horizon Plaza. I didn't care about the party. My mind immediately mapped the terrain through an assassin's lens.

Rooftops first. That’s where I’d be if I wanted a quick escape. Clear.

Balconies next. High coverage, easy line of sight. It was clear too.

Exits third. Three main doors, two service corridors, one underground garage route.

Then, the crowd.

My eyes swept over the sea of elite guests sipping champagne. Then my eyes caught something on the second-floor mezzanine.

It wasn't Alfonso.

It was a shadowy figure standing in the blind spot of a pillar—wearing a dark coat that didn't match the black-tie dress code, their body was leaning toward the main stage. Ah...

Before I could lock my focus onto them, the figure shifted into the dark corridor behind the pillar and vanished.

Damn it. Someone’s already here.

The pressure spiked instantly. I ducked into the service elevator, rode it to the third-floor maintenance gantry overlooking the main hall, and slipped into the shadows behind a ventilation duct. I assembled my compact, suppressed rifle in less than thirty seconds, resting the cold barrel against the steel railing.

Now, everything had to slow down.

I took a long, deep breath, letting the adrenaline fade into cold focus. My heart rate dropped. My grip on the rifle settled into a firm, natural weight. My index finger slid over the guard, resting gently against the curved metal of the trigger.

And then, he walked out onto the stage.

Alpha Alfonso.

I didn't care about his sharp jawline, his expensive tailored suit, or his commanding posture. I didn't care that half the women in the room turned to stare at him. I looked at him the way a butcher looks at a carcass.

Four personal guards surrounded him in a tight diamond formation. They rotated their focus every eight seconds, leaving a tiny gap on his left flank. His posture was slightly stiff, his right shoulder pulled back—he was wearing a lightweight Kevlar vest under his shirt. Body shots were out.

His head, however, was completely exposed. No helmet, no collar. Just a clean, unblocked line straight to his temple. Beside him, his second-in-command was twitching, his eyes scanning the room too fast. Traitor or terrified? Doesn't matter. It wasn't my job after all. 

Everything lined up. I was more than ready to shoot. 

I exhaled slowly, letting the air bleed out of my lungs until the crosshairs locked over his left temple. One squeeze, and I would be back at the safehouse before the crowd even finished screaming.

My finger began to apply pressure to the trigger. The wall was breaking. The firing pin was a fraction of a millimeter from releasing.

Bzzt. Crackle.

The static in my tiny, ear-molded comms unit popped violently. I ignored it, keeping my eye glued to the target. I was literally half a second away from pulling the shot.

Crackle.

"Stand down, Ivy."

My eyebrows pulled together, a flare of irritation cutting through my ice-cold focus. Who the hell interrupts an assassin mid-trigger-squeeze?

"...You have the worst timing imaginable," I whispered into the collar mic, my finger still holding the wall of the trigger.

"Mission updated," the Director’s cold voice echoed in my ear.

My finger froze. "What?"

"You are no longer authorized to kill Alpha Alfonso."

A pulse of disbelief hit me. Was this a joke? Did the client chicken out at the last second? Did someone else pay double to buy his life?

"I have the shot," I hissed quietly, staring through the crosshairs at Alfonso's temple. "I am literally pulling the trigger right now."

Then came the sentence that completely destroyed my night.

"Your new mission..." The Director paused, the quiet rustle of a paper flipping over the line. "...is to carry Alpha Alfonso's heir.”