The Woman Who Came to Kill
Leon's voice sliced through the darkness like a knife. "Who are you?"
The hooded woman did not stir. Did not utter a word.
Tension sat between them, thin and wiry.
Nova's gaze fastened onto the figure. Her breathing was calm, but all her muscles were taut, prepared to strike. The warm vibrancy of the market—the laughter, lights, and lingering heat—had disappeared, leaving behind only echoes. That heat was now a memory.
This moment was for something colder.
Her hand hovered near her belt, fingers twitching toward her blade. Her heartbeat stayed calm, but her senses sharpened to a razor's edge. Whoever this was had followed them without a trace—until now.
Leon's jaw tightened. "You have three seconds to answer."
The dagger still trembled where it struck, half-buried in the dirt. The glint of its blade had faded, yet the air had already turned dense with tension.
