The rain came harder that night.
Wind swept through the broken corridors of the old mansion, carrying whispers of the past — the kind that made even shadows hold their breath.
Inside, Adrian and Elara stood back-to-back.
The air tasted like gunmetal and memory.
"They'll come in waves," Adrian said, eyes scanning the darkness.
"Let them," Elara replied. "I was trained to kill in silence. Tonight, I'm not staying silent anymore."
Her voice didn't shake.
Her mask gleamed under the flickering chandelier, and for a moment, Adrian swore he saw the woman she used to be — the assassin who haunted men's last prayers.
Three minutes later.
The first bullet shattered the window.
Adrian pulled Elara down behind a column.
"East side," she murmured.
"Two shooters," he confirmed.
"And one inside already."
A faint click echoed — a trigger being readied.
Elara spun, grabbed Adrian's sidearm before he could react, and fired once.
Bang.
A man dropped from the balcony above — clean shot through the eye.
No hesitation.
No fear.
Viper was awake.
Adrian's smirk was quiet but unmistakable.
"You remember more than you admit."
"I don't remember," she said, reloading. "I react."
"That's muscle memory."
"That's murder," she corrected.
They moved like they'd trained together their entire lives — covering angles, crossing fire lines, finishing each other's kills without speaking.
When the next intruder charged, Adrian caught the man's blade mid-swing and slammed his elbow into the attacker's throat.
Elara swept low, catching another by the knees, twisting his gun until the crack of bone filled the air.
"Two left," Adrian said.
"No," she whispered. "One."
The last man was already in front of them, tall, wearing the Council's crest — a serpent coiled around a sword.
Elara froze.
The man removed his mask.
Her breath caught.
"Taron…" she whispered.
"You trained me," he said quietly. "And now I've come to bring you home."
Adrian's stance shifted subtly — protective, possessive.
"She's not yours to take."
Taron's smile was cold.
"You think she's yours? You're still that naive boy who thought love could tame a killer."
He turned to Elara, eyes soft with something dangerously close to pity.
"They never erased your code, Viper. It's in your blood. When they call, you obey."
Elara's jaw tightened.
"Not anymore."
She fired.
The bullet grazed his shoulder — intentional.
He didn't flinch.
"Next time," she said, stepping closer, voice low and deadly,
"I won't miss."
Taron smirked faintly, then tossed a small device at her feet — it blinked once before exploding into a cloud of silver smoke.
When it cleared, he was gone.
Adrian grabbed her wrist as the sound faded.
"He'll be back."
"I know," she said, slipping her gun into its holster. "So will I."
Her mask cracked slightly at the edge — a scar running across the smooth surface.
Adrian touched it gently.
"You realize what you've done," he murmured. "Killing a Council assassin means war."
"Good," she said, eyes burning.
"Let them come."
Adrian smiled then — a quiet, dangerous curve of his lips.
"There's my wife."
Elara met his gaze.
"Don't call me that."
"What should I call you then?"
"Your mistake," she whispered — and walked past him, leaving the scent of gunpowder and rain in her wake.
Outside the mansion, a Council vehicle idled in the fog.
Inside, Taron pressed a bloodied hand to his shoulder and spoke into his comm.
"She's not the same, sir."
"No," the distorted voice replied.
"She's becoming what we designed her to be."