Manhattan was alive even at night.
Neon lights reflected off wet streets, taxis rushed past, and people filled the sidewalks as if sleep didn't exist in this city.
But hidden beneath that bright life was a darker world.
A world ruled by Alexander morozov
At just twenty-six, Alex wasn't just part of the mafia — he was its supreme leader. Cold, calculating, and terrifyingly efficient. Every major operation in the city passed through him. People called him The Ace because he never failed a mission.
Beside him stood his most trusted man, Victor Hale, his right-hand and strategist.
Together, they controlled half the underground world of Manhattan.
But tonight, Alex was somewhere unexpected.
A small café.
The café was simple. Warm lights, wooden tables, and the smell of freshly brewed coffee.
Behind the counter stood Ivy.
To anyone else, she was just the owner of a cozy neighborhood café — calm, quiet, and polite.
But Ivy carried secrets deeper than the ocean.
She wasn't just a café owner.
She was one of the deadliest assassins in the underground world.
And nobody knew.
Not yet.
The door chimed softly as Alex walked in.
His presence alone made the air heavier.
He sat at a corner table, waiting for a meeting while casually scanning the room.
That's when he noticed something.
A man leaning over the counter.
Harassing Ivy.
"Come on sweetheart," the man laughed, "give me your number. Don't act all high and mighty."
Alex rested his chin on his hand and watched.
Normally, situations like this ended one of two ways.
Either the girl cried.
Or someone stepped in.
But Ivy did neither.
Instead, she sighed.
Then in one swift motion—
She grabbed the man's wrist.
Twisted it.
SLAM.
The man's face hit the counter.
Before he could react, Ivy kicked the back of his knee, forcing him down.
The entire café went silent.
She leaned closer and whispered calmly,
"Leave before I break something you'll miss."
The man scrambled up and ran out.
Ivy simply dusted her hands and went back to making coffee like nothing happened.
As if that entire scene meant absolutely nothing.
Alex's lips slowly curled into a smirk.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
Later that night in his penthouse office, Alex sat behind his desk.
Victor stood across from him.
"Find out everything about the girl from that café," Alex said.
Victor raised an eyebrow.
"A girl?"
"Just do it."
The next day Victor returned with a file.
"Her name is Ivy Carter," Victor said.
"Owner of a café in Manhattan. Business degree. No criminal history. Clean record."
Alex frowned slightly.
"That's it?"
Victor nodded.
"Completely normal."
But Alex didn't believe that.
Normal girls didn't move like that.
Normal girls didn't react like nothing happened.
Something about her was… off.
And it intrigued him.
But work came first.
Victor placed another file on the desk.
"New mission."
Alex looked up.
"Location?"
"Abandoned warehouse district. Rival group."
Alex stood up, grabbing his coat.
"Let's go."
Hours later, the warehouse was silent.
The mission had gone exactly as planned.
Efficient.
Clean.
Typical Alex.
As he walked out of the building, the cold night air hit his face.
Then—
A noise.
A faint movement behind the building.
Alex immediately turned.
Someone was there.
He started walking toward the sound. Then running. The figure ran too. Fast. Too fast. Alex chased through the dark alleyways until finally— He grabbed the person by the arm. "Got you." The figure struggled violently.
Alex tried turning them around—
But suddenly—
WHAM.
Pain exploded through his body. The person had kicked him straight in the nuts. Alex collapsed to one knee. Through the blur of pain, he looked up.
For a split second—
He saw her.
A girl.
Slim figure.
Black clothing.
And eyes…
Eyes as deep and dark as the ocean.
Then she ran.
Disappearing into the night.
Alex sat there, breathing heavily.
And suddenly one thought crossed his mind.
Those eyes.
He had seen them before.
At the café.