MY ASSASSIN IS MY MATE

NIA

Rain lashes against the city like a punishment. From the rooftop, I watch it slice through the dark.The skyline glows beneath it, blurred gold and steel, while thunder mutters like a warning.

I crouch on the ledge, breathing steady. The glass penthouse below me hums with heat and light — my target’s den. Knight Golden. Billionaire, alpha, philanthropist on paper. Monster in truth. At least, that’s what the contract says.

“Five minutes, Silent Blade,” my handler whispers through the comm. “Clean kill. No traces.”

As if I need the reminder. Clean is the only way I work.

I draw my knife — matte black, silver-edged, balanced perfectly to my hand. A witch once told me it remembers every soul it’s tasted. Tonight, it’ll remember his.

The biometric lock surrenders to my tools with a soft click. Warm air spills out, thick with whiskey, cedar — dominance, power, wolf.

Inside, everything gleams. Dark marble. Amber lights. Shadows deep enough to disappear into. I move through them like smoke.

Until my wolf stirs.

It’s been restless all night, pacing beneath my skin. I tell her to shut up. She doesn’t. She never does. But I have a job to do.

I find him in the main suite, sitting in front of floor-to-ceiling glass, staring out at the storm like he owns it. Broad shoulders, open collar, whiskey glass half-empty.

Too easy.

I glide forward, knife raised, until the blade kisses the skin of his throat. A heartbeat. One breath. One motion — And the world shifts.

The scent hits me so hard I nearly drop the blade. Pine. Rain-soaked earth. It floods my lungs, my blood. My vision blurs; my wolf goes silent, then howls — one raw, broken sound that rips through my chest.

No.

Not him.

Not now.

He inhales sharply, nostrils flaring, eyes snapping open.

“You,” he says, voice low and rough. “My assassin… is my mate.”

The knife trembles in my hand. I take a step back, fighting for control. My instincts scream at me to touch him. My training screams louder to run him through.

“Don’t,” I manage, my voice rough from disuse.

He doesn’t move. His gaze slides from my mask to my blade to the pulse hammering at my throat. The faintest curve tugs at his lips.

“So the Silent Blade speaks.”

“Stay down,” I hiss.

“You won’t kill me.”

I raise the knife again. “Watch me.”

But I can’t. Every nerve in my body is tuned to him. My wolf presses against my skin, desperate to get closer. The mate bond hums like thunder outside.

Knight tilts his head, baring more of his throat. “If it’s a choice between dying by your hand or never touching you…” His voice drops to a whisper. “I’ll take the knife.”

Damn him.

I lunge, the blade grazing his neck, drawing a thin line of blood. The scent of him floods me again, dizzying. I stumble back, gasping.

He stands slowly, eyes steady on mine. Even wounded,