The Assassin's vow

I couldn't stop thinking about the file.

Karl Voss had known about me. Before I became Ava Monroe. Before the new name, the new face, the carefully constructed lies. He had watched from the shadows while I bled in the ruins of my family's legacy.

And now he was dead.

Not by my hand.

By hers.

Iris.

That changed everything.

Genevieve met me in the abandoned chapel behind the east wing. She'd picked the location. Claimed it had good acoustics for guilt.

She wore all black, hair twisted in a knot, eyes like frost.

I handed her the encrypted drive I'd stolen from Iris's stash.

She said nothing as she plugged it into her burner tablet and skimmed the contents.

After three minutes, she whistled low.

"So Voss was keeping tabs on the Circle."

I crossed my arms. "You knew about him?"

"I knew of him," she said. "Didn't know he was still operational."

"He's not."

Genevieve looked up sharply. "You?"

I shook my head. "His daughter. Ingrid. She goes by Iris now."

Her mouth tightened. "That's a problem."

"I thought you might say that."

"She's unstable. Voss molded her like a weapon, not a person."

"So did you," I said quietly.

Genevieve paused. "But I never forgot you were human."

We stared at each other for a long moment.

Then she closed the tablet. "Keep her close. Learn her rhythm. But if she jeopardizes the mission..."

"I know," I said.

"Do you?"

"Yes," I said, voice cold. "I'll end her."

Back on campus, I found Iris by the fencing hall.

She was alone, wrapping tape around her fingers.

"You broke in," she said without turning.

"You left the door open," I replied.

Silence.

"You read the file," she added.

"Every word."

She turned to face me. "Still think I'm the villain?"

"No," I said. "I think we're both villains. Just different stories."

She smiled. "Maybe we should write a new one. Together."

That was the first time I saw something different in her eyes.

Not fire.

Grief.

Iris couldn't sleep she had Ava on her mind.

Ava isn't soft. But she's not sharp in the same way. She kills like a scalpel. I kill like a hammer. But maybe… maybe two weapons are better than one.

Late that night, I stood beneath the clock tower, wind whispering through the cracks.

I held a photograph from Karl's file.

A man in a white suit.

Smooth. Untouched. Grinning at my father like they weren't arranging executions over dinner.

Julian Morton.

Next on the list.

And the man who personally signed my mother's death order.

My hands curled into fists.

Iris stood beside me. "You ready?"

I nodded.

Two shadows.

Two daughters.

Two blades.

And one mission: burn them all.