Chapter 8:
The café was warm.
Too warm.
Sunlight filtered through wide glass windows, dust particles floating lazily in the air like nothing in the world had teeth. Soft music played overhead—something acoustic, forgettable. Students crowded small tables, laptops open, lives blissfully uncomplicated.
I sat across from Mia, fingers loosely wrapped around a mug I hadn't touched.
She was talking.
Something about her roommate. Or an assignment. Or a professor.
I didn't hear it.
Not because I wasn't paying attention—but because I was paying attention to everything else.
The reflection in the window behind her.
The man seated two tables away who hadn't taken a sip of his drink in seven minutes.
The barista whose eyes flicked toward me one too many times.
No weapons.
No immediate threat.
Still.
Mia tilted her head slightly. "You're doing it again."
I blinked. "Doing what?"
"That thing where you go quiet." She smiled, but there was curiosity behind it now. "It's like you disappear without moving."
I met her gaze.
Hazel-green eyes. Clear. Honest.
Dangerous.
"Sorry," I said calmly. "Habit."
She studied me for a second longer than usual, then nodded as if accepting an answer she didn't fully believe.
"That's okay," she said softly. "You don't have to explain everything."
That made it worse.
People who didn't demand answers were the most dangerous kind.
The man two tables away stood up.
I felt it before I saw it—the shift, the intent sharpening. He walked past us, casual, unremarkable.
As he passed, he let something fall.
A folded napkin slid across the floor and stopped near my shoe.
He didn't look back.
Mia didn't notice.
I bent down smoothly, picked it up, and unfolded it under the table.
Two words.
Tonight. Dormitory roof.
No signature.
No symbol.
The organization didn't need them.
I crushed the napkin in my palm, my expression unchanged.
"What is it?" Mia asked.
"Nothing," I replied. Truthful enough.
She hesitated, then smiled again. "After this, do you want to walk around campus? It's nice out."
Nice.
I looked at her for a second too long.
"I can't," I said. "Not tonight."
Her smile faltered—but only slightly.
"Oh." She looked down at her coffee. "That's okay. Another time."
Another time.
There shouldn't have been another time.
We stood to leave. Outside, the air was cooler, the sky bruised with early dusk. Students passed in clusters, laughter echoing off buildings.
At the fork in the path, she stopped.
"You're hard to read," she said suddenly.
I turned to face her.
"I don't mean that in a bad way," she added quickly. "It's just… sometimes I feel like you're here, and sometimes it's like you're somewhere far away."
I said nothing.
She took a breath. "When you're with me, I want you to be with me."
There it was.
A line I wasn't supposed to cross.
I held her gaze, my voice even, measured. "You don't want that."
She frowned. "Why not?"
Because if I am, you die.
But I didn't say that.
Instead, I said, "I don't belong in quiet places."
She smiled faintly. "Maybe you just haven't stayed long enough."
She stepped closer—just close enough for me to smell her perfume again. Rose and milk. Soft. Real.
Then she leaned forward and kissed my cheek.
It was brief.
Innocent.
It hit harder than any blade ever had.
She pulled back, cheeks warm. "Goodnight, Evan."
And then she was gone.
I stood there long after she disappeared into her dorm.
The rooftop was empty when I arrived.
Wind swept across concrete, carrying the sounds of campus below—music, laughter, life. The city lights flickered beyond the trees.
I didn't bother hiding my presence.
They already knew where I was.
"Late," a voice said behind me.
I didn't turn.
"You said tonight," I replied.
"Tonight isn't over."
Footsteps approached. Calm. Confident.
Not a grunt.
Not a tracker.
Someone higher.
I finally turned.
The man was tall, dressed in a tailored coat despite the casual setting. His hair was neatly cut, his posture flawless. He didn't look like an assassin.
Which meant he was.
"Handler Orion," I said flatly.
He smiled. "Still sharp."
"What do you want?"
"To observe," he said. "The mentor felt you were becoming… inefficient."
I tilted my head slightly. "I completed every objective."
"Not the unspoken ones."
He stepped closer, stopping a safe distance away.
"You're spending too much time with the girl," Orion continued. "You weren't instructed to bond."
"She's the access point," I said. "Trust accelerates proximity."
"Don't insult me," he replied calmly.
Silence stretched.
Then he said, "We tested her."
The wind stopped mattering.
"How?" I asked.
"Nothing dramatic," Orion said lightly. "A blocked card. A delayed result. A minor inconvenience."
My jaw tightened by a fraction of a degree.
"She cried," he added. "Didn't call her father. Didn't call friends."
He met my eyes.
"She called you."
Cold spread through my chest.
"You didn't answer," he continued. "That restraint saved you."
Saved me.
"And if I had?" I asked.
Orion smiled thinly. "Then we'd be having a different conversation."
I stepped forward.
He didn't flinch.
"Touch her again," I said quietly, "and I'll dismantle this entire branch before you can file a report."
The air changed.
For the first time, Orion's smile vanished.
"That sounds like a threat."
"It's a promise."
We stood there, two predators measuring each other.
Finally, he stepped back.
"You have until mid-semester," he said. "Finish the mission. Kill the target."
"And if I don't?"
"Then the girl becomes leverage."
The words were calm.
Clinical.
I didn't move.
Orion turned to leave, then paused. "By the way—your sister's school records were easy to find."
I was behind him in less than a second.
My hand rested on his shoulder.
Not gripping.
Not shaking.
Just there.
"Say her name again," I said coldly, "and they won't find enough of you to explain your disappearance."
For a long moment, he didn't breathe.
Then he nodded once. "Understood."
He left.
I remained on the rooftop, staring at the dorm building across the quad.
Mia's light flicked on.
I exhaled slowly.
The mission was no longer about revenge.
It was about containment.
And if the organization forced my hand—
I would remind them why SSS-rank assassins were never meant to be controlled.