BLOOD STAIN

The cool night air wrapped around Asha like a shroud as she crouched on the rooftop, her keen eyes scanning the manor below. The estate belonged to Lord Garran, a powerful nobleman with a long history of bloodstained dealings. He had been instrumental in her family's downfall, a man who profited from the suffering of others. Tonight, he would pay.

Asha's heartbeat was steady, her breathing measured. The past few months had honed her into a shadow, a blade in the dark. She had taken lives before—each one a step closer to vengeance—but this was different. This was personal.

The manor grounds were well-guarded. Torches flickered along the stone walls, and armored men patrolled in pairs. Asha counted at least ten on the outer perimeter. The inner courtyard would have more. She needed to move carefully.

She reached for her grappling hook, securing the rope around a sturdy wooden beam. With practiced ease, she descended, her body moving silently down the wall. She landed in a crouch behind a stack of barrels, listening to the footfalls of the nearest guard. He was moving toward her, unaware of the danger lurking in the shadows.

As he passed, she sprang. Her dagger slid effortlessly beneath his chin, silencing him before he could utter a sound. She eased his body down, slipping into the shadows before another guard could take notice.

Asha moved swiftly, weaving between patrol routes, using the darkness as her ally. Reaching the main courtyard, she pressed herself against the stone walls, listening. Voices drifted through an open window above her.

"…Lord Garran will see you shortly," a guard said.

A second voice, smooth and arrogant, replied. "Tell him I don't wait long. I have other matters to attend to."

Asha frowned. That voice was familiar. She risked a glance through the window, her breath catching as she recognized the man sitting in the chamber. Dorian Valtren—another noble, just as cruel as Garran, if not worse. He was the one who had placed the bounty on her head after she assassinated his brother.

If they were working together, this changed things.

Asha forced herself to focus. Garran was still her target, but now she had to be careful. If Dorian recognized her, he'd alert the entire city to her presence.

She climbed to the second floor, slipping through an open window into a dimly lit hallway. A pair of guards stood outside a heavy wooden door—the entrance to Garran's chambers.

Asha had planned for this. She pulled a small vial from her belt and dipped a throwing dart into the liquid inside. With a quick flick of her wrist, the dart sailed through the air, embedding itself into the neck of the first guard. He staggered, his lips parting in confusion before his body slumped forward. The second guard barely had time to react before Asha was upon him.

Her blade found its mark, and he crumpled.

She wiped her dagger clean, then turned her attention to the door. It was locked, but she had the tools to deal with that. She worked quickly, picking the mechanism until she heard the faint click of success.

Slipping inside, she found herself in a lavishly furnished chamber. The air smelled of wine and perfume. Asha's eyes landed on a figure seated by the fireplace. Lord Garran.

He was older than she remembered, his once-powerful frame softened by luxury. He swirled a goblet of wine, oblivious to the danger behind him.

Asha stepped forward, her dagger raised.

"I was wondering when you'd come," Garran said, his voice calm. He didn't turn to face her.

Asha hesitated. This wasn't the reaction she had expected.

"Do you think I wouldn't recognize the signs?" he continued. "My guards dropping one by one, the faintest whisper of a shadow moving through my halls?"

Asha's grip tightened on her dagger. "Then you should have run."

Garran finally turned, his face illuminated by the firelight. He smirked. "Run? From a child?"

The mockery in his voice sent a fresh surge of anger through her veins. She lunged, but before her blade could meet flesh, the door behind her burst open.

Dorian Valtren stepped inside, flanked by two more guards.

A trap.

Asha spun, her mind racing. She could take the guards—she had before—but Dorian was a problem.

He smiled coldly. "You've been causing quite the mess, little assassin."

Asha didn't waste time with words. She hurled a dagger at the nearest guard, striking him in the throat. Chaos erupted as she dived past the second, rolling into a crouch.

Dorian was fast, drawing his rapier and lunging at her. Asha barely dodged in time, his blade slicing through the fabric of her cloak. She countered with a slash of her own, but he deflected it easily.

Garran laughed, enjoying the spectacle. "She's feisty, I'll give her that."

Asha had to end this quickly. She feinted left, then spun low, kicking Dorian's legs out from under him. He crashed to the ground, his sword clattering away.

She turned her attention back to Garran, but the older man was already moving, grabbing a pistol from his desk.

Asha reacted on instinct. She flung a throwing knife just as he raised the weapon. The blade embedded itself in his throat, cutting off whatever insult he had been about to utter.

Garran collapsed, gurgling as blood pooled around him.

Dorian, still on the floor, looked at her with pure hatred. "You'll regret that."

Asha wasn't about to wait for reinforcements. She sprinted for the window, smashing through the glass just as more guards burst into the room.

She hit the ground hard, pain jolting through her limbs. But she couldn't stop. Not yet.

A bell began to toll—an alarm. The entire manor was waking up.

Asha forced herself to her feet, disappearing into the shadows as shouts rang through the night.

Garran was dead. But Dorian still lived.

And now, he wanted her more than ever.