The morning sun painted soft gold across the VossTech building. Ava adjusted her jacket as she walked through the revolving doors, blending in with the flow of employees. She had always been good at disappearing into crowds — becoming whoever the world needed her to be.
Today, she was Ava Moretti, efficient, quiet, trustworthy assistant.
Not a killer.
Not a ghost of the Serpents.
Just a woman trying to make a living.
She smiled faintly at the receptionist and headed straight for the private elevator. She'd memorized every camera location in the building the night before, even the ones hidden in the ceiling corners. It wasn't paranoia — it was instinct.
When she reached the top floor, Ethan was already there. He stood near his desk, sleeves rolled up, scanning documents that looked more like classified code than company files. A half-empty cup of coffee sat beside him, long forgotten.
"You're early again," he said without looking up.
Ava placed a folder on the desk. "You told me yesterday you appreciate efficiency."
He smiled slightly, still focused on the papers. "I didn't realize you'd take that as a challenge."
"I like to meet expectations."
Now he looked at her. For a moment, she wished he hadn't. There was something about the way his eyes studied her — calm, deliberate, as if he could see through the walls she had built around herself.
Ethan Voss wasn't like her past targets. Most were predictable — greedy politicians, corrupted agents, violent men who thought money made them untouchable. Ethan was different. He looked like someone who carried his own secrets, ones heavy enough to make his silence deafening.
---
Around midday, Ethan called for her. "Can you come to my office?"
She walked in, professional smile in place. He gestured toward a chair. "I need you to handle some encrypted files. It's confidential — no one outside this office touches them."
"Understood," she said. "May I ask what it's about?"
He hesitated before replying. "A financial trace. Someone's been laundering funds through false subsidiaries connected to our name. I don't like being used."
Her heartbeat slowed. So that's how close he is. The Serpents weren't wrong — Ethan's company had stumbled too near their front accounts. But hearing him talk about it with quiet determination made something twist inside her.
He wasn't hunting them for power or greed. He just wanted the truth.
She took the flash drive he handed her. "I'll review the data."
"Good. And Ava…"
She looked up.
"Be careful what you find. Not everything on those files will make sense at first glance."
"I'm good with puzzles," she said softly.
He smiled faintly. "I can see that."
---
That evening, as she sat at her apartment desk analyzing the encrypted data, her mind wasn't on the files. It was on Ethan's expression — the brief flicker of vulnerability in his eyes when he mentioned being used.
She shouldn't care.
Feelings were distractions.
Yet she couldn't stop thinking about it.
Her phone buzzed. Marcus again.
Marcus: Status report.
Ava: I've established access. He trusts me.
Marcus: Good. Don't get sentimental. Remember, VossTech's exposure could destroy us. Hale expects results.
Ava exhaled, typing slower this time.
Ava: Understood.
She tossed the phone aside and leaned back. "Results," she muttered. That word always sounded like blood.
---
The next day, she brought Ethan his morning coffee — black, no sugar, just the way he liked it. He was on the phone, voice low and clipped.
"Tell them to shut down all offshore accounts. I don't care if it costs us."
He paused.
"No, don't escalate. We keep this quiet."
He hung up and ran a hand through his hair. He looked exhausted.
"Tough morning?" she asked.
He gave a half-smile. "You could say that. Someone's trying to erase data faster than I can trace it."
She tilted her head. "Maybe you should take a break."
He laughed softly. "You sound like my old assistant. She said the same thing right before she quit."
"Why did she quit?"
He looked away. "People don't always like being close to danger."
The way he said it sent a chill down her spine. She wondered what kind of danger he meant — the one he knew, or the one sitting right in front of him?
"Anyway," he said, shaking off the heaviness. "There's a company dinner tonight. I need you there."
Ava raised a brow. "You want your assistant to attend?"
"I want someone I can trust."
The word hung between them.
Trust.
She nodded. "All right."
---
That evening, Ava dressed in a sleek black gown that fit like a second skin — elegant enough for the crowd, unassuming enough for movement. She wore no jewelry except the small silver pendant that never left her neck.
The dinner was hosted in a luxury hotel ballroom. The air buzzed with laughter, deals, and polite deceit. Ethan moved through the crowd easily, confident but detached, as if he were playing a role he no longer enjoyed.
When he saw Ava by the bar, his gaze lingered longer than it should have. She met his eyes, calm but unreadable.
"Wine?" he asked, offering her a glass.
"Why not," she said.
They stood side by side, the hum of conversations blurring around them.
"Tell me," Ethan said quietly, "what made you work in this field? You don't strike me as the corporate type."
Ava smiled faintly. "I like to stay busy."
He looked at her closely. "That's not an answer."
She took a slow sip of wine before replying. "Maybe I'm just running from something."
"Everyone is," he said softly.
For a second, she saw something in him — a man who'd built his own walls, just like her. But before she could ask, a voice interrupted them.
"Ethan! I didn't expect to see you here."
A tall man approached, sharp suit, sharp smile. He extended his hand, which Ethan reluctantly shook.
"Paul Grant," he said to Ava. "Investor. And you are?"
"Ava Moretti," she said smoothly. "Personal assistant."
Paul's eyes flickered over her, and his smirk deepened. "Of course. Ethan always did have good taste."
Ethan's tone turned cold. "That's enough, Paul."
Paul raised his hands. "Relax, I was joking." But his eyes stayed on Ava, and she didn't miss the hint of recognition. Something in his gaze told her he wasn't just a businessman.
Later, as the event ended, she leaned toward Ethan. "Who was he?"
"Someone I wish I'd never partnered with," Ethan muttered. "Grant has ties to offshore networks I'm trying to sever."
Ava's pulse quickened. Offshore networks. That meant Serpent fronts. So Grant was one of theirs — maybe not an assassin, but a collaborator.
And now, Grant had seen her face.
That night, she couldn't sleep. The mission was unraveling faster than she planned.
She picked up her phone and texted Marcus:
Ava: New complication. Paul Grant saw me. He's connected.
Marcus: I know. We placed him there for a reason. To keep Voss in check. Don't interfere.
Her blood ran cold. They put him there? That meant Ethan had been surrounded long before she arrived.
She realized then that she wasn't the only one being used.
---
The next morning, Ethan arrived late, his usual composure slightly cracked. He didn't speak much, but when he finally did, his voice was quiet.
"Paul Grant was killed last night."
Ava froze. "What?"
"Car accident. Police say it was a brake malfunction." He stared out the window. "But that's not an accident."
She forced her face to remain calm. Inside, her stomach knotted. The Serpents had eliminated their own contact — to erase traces, to tighten control.
And Ethan knew it.
He turned toward her suddenly. "Do you ever feel like someone's watching you, Ava?"
She swallowed hard. "Sometimes. Why?"
"Because lately, I can't shake the feeling that I'm not the only one in this building with secrets."
For the briefest moment, their eyes met — predator and prey, both uncertain who was which.
---
That evening, Ethan didn't go home. He stayed late, working on his computer as the office lights dimmed. Ava stayed too, pretending to sort documents. Around 10 p.m., he finally stood up.
"You should go home," he said. "It's late."
"I could say the same to you."
He smiled tiredly. "You don't have to take care of me, Ava."
"Maybe I want to."
That stopped him. For a moment, silence filled the room. The rain outside tapped against the glass, a soft rhythm to their stillness.
He walked closer. "You're an interesting woman."
"And you're not what I expected."
"Oh?" His tone was teasing, but his eyes were searching. "What did you expect?"
"A ruthless genius who doesn't look people in the eye."
He chuckled. "I used to be. Not anymore."
"What changed?"
He hesitated. "Losing people you care about changes everything."
The way he said it made her chest tighten. She wanted to ask who he'd lost, but she didn't. Questions like that opened doors she wasn't ready to walk through.
Ethan finally said, "Go home, Ava. You don't have to keep pretending to be strong all the time."
She almost laughed. If only he knew how strong she really was — or how much of her life was built on pretending.
---
When she reached her apartment that night, she poured herself another drink. She tried to tell herself she was in control — that she could finish this mission before emotions got in the way.
But then she saw Ethan's reflection in her mind — his quiet smile, his tired eyes, the way he'd said her name like it meant something.
And for the first time, Ava Moretti wondered what it would feel like to be someone else.
Someone who didn't have to lie.
Someone who didn't have blood on her hands.
She finished her drink and whispered to herself, "You can't fall for him."
But deep down, she already knew the truth.