The mute Bride of the mafia king
Untraceable.
The first to step out of the armored black SUV was MADWOLF—HY. Towering, sharp-eyed, wild. He didn’t wear madness on his sleeve—he wore it in his grin. His fingers hovered over the hilt of the curved blade strapped to his side, aching for chaos, for blood, for permission.
“Two guards. Balcony. High-grade rifles,” HY muttered, voice low and eager. “Permission to make it messy?”
Behind him, MADCROW—ER—was already hacking into the building’s security with fingers moving faster than thought. His custom wrist rig blinked under the sleeve of his tactical jacket. “Cameras looping. Alarms frozen. Going dark in three... two…”
Sikat na Kabanata