The husband died first.
Luna watched him drop. Clean headshot. No sound except the soft thud of his body hitting the carpet. She stepped over him and moved through the house. Silent. Her boots made no noise on the hardwood floor.
The file said the wife would be upstairs. Bedroom or bathroom. Luna took the stairs two at a time. Her face was covered. Black mask. Hood pulled low. Gloves. No skin showing. No identifying marks.
She was a ghost.
She found the wife in the bedroom. The woman was pressed against the far wall, shaking. Tears streamed down her face.
"Please," the wife whispered. "Please don't."
Luna raised her gun. Standard procedure. Two targets left. Wife and daughter. Make it quick. Make it clean.
Her finger moved to the trigger.
Then the woman spoke again.
"My daughter. She's only eight. Please. She's just a baby."
Luna's hand trembled.
Heat. Smoke. Flames licking up walls.
Luna blinked. The vision vanished. She was back in the bedroom. The wife was still begging.
"Please. I'll do anything. Just don't hurt my little girl."
Luna's breathing got faster. Her gun hand shook harder.
Where was the daughter?
Luna's eyes scanned the room. Bed. Dresser. Closet. Then she saw it.
A small hand. Barely visible. Trembling at the edge of the bed skirt.
The girl was hiding under the bed.
Luna's vision blurred.
Small hands reaching up through smoke. Coughing. Screaming.
"Daddy! Daddy, help!"
Heat so intense it burned her lungs. Darkness. Terror.
Then strong arms. Lifting her. A deep voice cutting through the chaos.
"I've got you. You're safe."
Luna gasped. Sweat dripped down her spine. She was back in the present. The wife was staring at her with wide, desperate eyes.
"Please," the woman sobbed.
Luna looked at the small hand under the bed. The fingers were shaking. Just like Luna's hands had shaken when she was eight years old. When her world burned. When she thought she would die.
When Victor saved her.
Luna's gun lowered.
The wife's eyes widened in shock. "What—"
"Get your daughter," Luna said. Her voice was rough. Distorted by the mask. "Get her and run. If I ever see you again, you're both dead. Understand?"
The woman didn't move. Couldn't process what was happening.
"Now!" Luna snapped.
The woman scrambled to the bed. Dropped to her knees. Reached under.
"Baby, come here. Come to Mommy. It's okay."
A little girl crawled out. Dark hair. Huge terrified eyes. She couldn't have been more than eight. The same age Luna was when—
Luna turned away. "Go."
The woman grabbed her daughter and ran. Their footsteps pounded down the stairs. The front door slammed.
Silence.
Luna stood in the empty bedroom. Her hands were still shaking. She stared at them like they belonged to someone else.
What the hell just happened?
She pulled out her phone. Dialed.
Victor answered on the first ring. "Report."
"Job complete," Luna said. Her voice was steady now. Controlled. "Family eliminated."
"Good. Come home."
Luna ended the call. She looked at the husband's body at the bottom of the stairs. One kill out of three. Victor would never know. He never checked. Never questioned her.
She was his perfect weapon.
Except tonight, the weapon had malfunctioned.
Luna left through the back door. Her motorcycle was parked two blocks away in an alley. She threw her leg over it and started the engine.
But she didn't head to Victor's compound.
She turned east.
Toward Maya's house.
Maya opened the door before Luna could knock.
"Come here, baby girl."
Luna didn't argue. She stepped inside and let Maya pull her into the bathroom. This was their routine. After every job. Every kill. Maya washed the blood away.
Except there was no blood tonight.
Maya started the shower anyway. Luna stripped off her gear. The mask. The gloves. The jacket. She stepped under the hot water and closed her eyes.
Fire. Smoke. A child's scream.
Strong arms carrying her out of hell.
Luna's eyes snapped open. Her heart was racing.
"Are you okay in there?" Maya called from outside the shower.
"Fine."
But she wasn't fine. Her hands were still shaking.
When Luna finished, Maya wrapped her in a towel and led her to the kitchen. Hot tea was waiting. Luna sat at the small wooden table and Maya handed her the cup.
"Talk to me," Maya said softly.
Luna's fingers trembled around the warm ceramic. "I let them go."
Maya's eyebrows rose. "The targets?"
"The wife and daughter. I was supposed to kill them. I couldn't."
Maya sat down across from her. Her brown eyes were searching. Concerned. "Why not?"
"I don't know." Luna's voice cracked. "The little girl was hiding under the bed. And I just... I saw her hand shaking and I—"
The words died in her throat.
Maya reached across the table and took Luna's hand. "Do you know what this is?"
"What?"
"The instinct of a mother." Maya squeezed her fingers gently. "You were a mother once, remember?"
Luna pulled her hand back. "Don't."
"It's been three years, Luna. You can't keep pretending—"
"She's dead, Maya." Luna's voice was sharp. Cold. "There's nothing to talk about."
"But you still feel it. That need to protect. It doesn't just disappear because—"
"If my baby had lived," Luna interrupted, her voice breaking despite herself, "she'd be turning three years old right now. But she didn't live. She died. So it doesn't matter."
Maya's face changed. Something flickered in her eyes. Pain. Guilt. Something Luna couldn't quite read.
"Maya?" Luna leaned forward. "What's wrong?"
Maya opened her mouth. and Closed it. Her hands were shaking now too. She looked older suddenly. Tired. Afraid.
"There's something I need to tell you," Maya said quietly. "Something important. Something I should have told you a long time ago."
Luna's heart started pounding. "What is it?"
Maya took a deep breath. Her eyes filled with tears. "Luna, your daughter—"
Luna's phone rang.
The sound shattered the moment like glass. Both women jumped. Luna looked at the screen.
Victor.
"I have to take this," Luna said.
"Luna, wait—"
But Luna was already answering. "Yes?"
Victor's voice was ice. "I have another job for you. High priority. I need you ready in two hours."
"I just finished—"
"This can't wait. Check your email. The file is there. Study it and execute tonight."
"Tonight?"
"Is that a problem?"
Luna glanced at Maya. Maya's face was pale. Desperate.
"No," Luna said. "No problem."
"Good. Report back when it's done."
The line went dead.
Luna looked at Maya. "I have to go."
"No." Maya stood up. Her chair scraped loudly against the floor. "Luna, please. This is important. What I need to tell you—"
"Can't it wait until tomorrow?"
Maya's face crumbled. "I don't know."
"What does that mean?"
"It means..." Maya's voice broke. "It means I should have told you years ago. And now I'm afraid if I don't tell you tonight, I might never get the chance."
A cold feeling settled in Luna's stomach. "You're scaring me."
"Good. You should be scared. We both should be." Maya grabbed Luna's hands. Her grip was tight. Desperate. "Promise me something. Promise me that no matter what happens, you'll come back tomorrow. Promise me you'll let me tell you the truth."
"The truth about what?"
"About everything." Maya's eyes were pleading. Terrified about what happened to your….
She stopped. Swallowed hard. "Just promise me you'll come back."
Luna stared at her. Maya looked like she was drowning. Like she was begging Luna to save her.
"I promise," Luna said. "Tomorrow. I'll come back and you can tell me everything. Okay?"
Maya nodded. She pulled Luna into a tight hug. "I love you, baby girl. Never forget that. No matter what you learn. No matter what happens. I love you."
"I love you too."
Luna pulled away. gathered her gear. and walked to the door.
She looked back once. Maya was standing in the kitchen doorway. Crying. Looking at Luna like she was memorizing her face.
"Tomorrow," Luna said.
"Tomorrow," Maya whispered.
Luna left.
She didn't know it was the last time she would ever see Maya alive.