All Chapters of She's an Assassin: Falling for the Enemy : Chapter 91 - Chapter 100

The light filtered into the room in thin streaks, the blinds cutting the sun into sharp patterns across the sheets. Marco stirred first, his body half-tangled around Alessa’s. For a moment he didn’t move. He simply let himself breathe in the quiet, the rhythm of her chest rising and falling, the rare peace that life in their world seldom afforded. He loved this and he could really get used to it. He stared at her beautiful face for some time, taking it all in until it was committed to memory. Then he brushed his lips across her shoulder, then shifted until he could see her eyes flitter open. “Good morning.” He murmured, pressing a kiss against her temple. There was warmth in his voice, a softness that few ever got to see from him. Alessa smiled faintly though her gaze quickly clouded with the kind of heaviness that had nothing to do with sleep.“Morning.” She whispered back. For a heartbeat they let themselves exist like that, just two lovers safe in the cocoon of dawn. But the sile

The smell of antiseptic clung for the hospital corridors, sterile and sharp, trying to mask the weight of pain that lived in every room. Marco pushed open the door slowly, his talk frame filling the entrance with sleep just a step behind him. Sophia sat upright in bed though her posture was stiff and her body tense with grief.The thin white blanket looked around her lap and her eyes rimmed with red, carrying the kind of sorrow that burned some more deeply than physical wounds. Alessa moved first. She crossed to Sophia’s side and perched gently on the edge of the mattress. Her hand reached out, warm and steady as it wrapped around Sophia’s trembling fingers.“You’re stronger than you think.” Alessa murmured, her voice soft and soothing. “And I know it doesn’t feel that way now… but the pain won’t always control you. One day soon, you’ll have the revenge you deserve. We’ll make sure of it. We definitely will.” At that, Sophia’s lips quivered. She nodded but the tears came anyway, spill

The bass thudded through the walls of the club like a second heartbeat, heavy and relentless. Colours lights strobed across the room, painting fleeting shadows over Rafael’s grin as he leaned back against the leather couch. His glass was half-empty and the laughter of women around him rang loud in his ears.For once, he wasn’t Rafael the soldier or Rafael the loyal protégé of Marco De Luca. He was just a young man caught in the rush of music and freedom. That’s when he let his guard down. One of the women slid another drink into his hand, her smile coy and her perfume cloying. Rafael didn’t think twice. He tipped the glass back, the liquid burning smooth down his throat.But a few minutes later, something was wrong. His vision blurred. The pounding music seemed to warp, stretching and fading as if underwater. His body felt heavier and his movements became sluggish. He blinked hard, trying to clear the gaze but the room tilted, spinning.Damn it. Rafael’s instincts kicked in sharp and

The late afternoon sun filtered gently through the curtains of the quiet Canadian estate painting Sophia’s room in shades of gold and pale white. She stood at the tall window with her hands folded just below her chest, the soft white dress she wore brushing her knees. It was a simple dress, the type her mother once said made her look like an angel but to Sophia, it felt like a shroud. Her face stretched far beyond the manicured gardens outside. She wasn’t looking at the trees or the stone path winding through them. She was searching for something she could never find again: the life she had lost, the warmth of a child that would never breathe and the arms of the man she longed to hold every night. Her throat tightened as the tears came, hot and silent, slipping down her face in streams that she no longer had the strength to wipe away. She pressed her forehead against the glass whispering curses under her breath.“Father… you’ll rot in hell. You’ll feel every ounce of this pain that

The fluorescent lights hummed faintly above the conference room is the city’s police headquarters. The air was heavy with cigarette smoke, stale coffee and the unease that came whenever a case stank of something bigger than the department could contain. A thick folder of crime scene photos lay scattered across the long table, the image of a lifeless young woman staring blankly into the ceiling burned into every officer’s mind. Detective Marcelo leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temple as though the weight of it all pressed against his skull.“It doesn’t add up,” he muttered as he flicked a finger against the edge of the file. “No signs of robbery, no forced entry, nothing taken. Whoever killed her knee exactly what they were doing.” Across the table, Deputy Caroline Rossi crossed her arms. Her eyes lingered on the photo of the journalist, pale under the harsh flash of the evidence camera. “She was digging into someone’s death.” Caroline said flatly. “And they buried her for it.”