She hit the enter key after typing the last line of code, and the high-tech vault in front of her clicked open instantly.

Nicole Murray spat out a mouthful of blood and wiped her lips with the back of her swollen, battered hand. Her portable laptop hit the ground with a soft thud as she bent down and picked up the AK47.

In the darkness, her eyes were the only thing glowing.

Short, shallow breaths escaped her lips as she scanned the area outside with sharp vigilance.

A strong beam of light suddenly pierced through the dark. Instantly, she pulled down her black tactical goggles and rolled to the side, ducking behind another boulder, gun in hand.

"Chef Nicole... no, guess I should call you Agent Murray now. I know you're here," a smooth, almost mocking male voice called out. "Just come out. I swear, the kids won’t be harmed."

Nicole let out a cold snort.

She glanced at the thermal imaging screen strapped to her wrist—dozens of small figures huddled close in a square, surrounded by armed guards lying in wait.

"One, two, three... eleven, twelve," she counted silently.

Sliding out the final loaded magazine from her back, she quickly swapped it with the empty one in her weapon.

As the searchlight passed over once more, Nicole sprang into action.

Toes barely touching the ground, she fired a launcher from her wrist—its grappling hook shooting toward the top of the wall. Even before it latched on properly, she wrapped the cord tight around her arm, pushed off hard, and launched herself toward the wall like a human bullet.

A squad of goons stood at the top, forming a human shield around her target—Eric Davidson, the kingpin.

“There she is! Open fire!”

“Keep the light on her!”

“Don’t let her get near the boss—”

Da-da-da-da!

Bullets zipped past her, inches away. She moved like a fish darting through water, slippery and fast, expertly weaving through the line of fire.

Reaching the wall, she yanked the rope and with one hand held tight while the other, weighed down with nearly ten pounds of rifle, let loose a rain of bullets into the guards circling the kids.

Her shoulder took the brunt of the recoil, sending a burning shock through old wounds so deep the bone showed through the torn flesh. A silent curse left her lips.

But she kept moving—eyes wet with pain but hands steady as ever, climbing fast with one hand and gunning down the last of the armed men around the hostages.

Suddenly, a sharp pain tore through her shoulder—someone had nailed her right in the arm holding the gun. Gritting her teeth, she dropped the weapon and kept climbing higher.

And then—Eric was right there.

“Shield the boss! Protect him!”

Nicole dodged more bullets, shoved off the wall, curled mid-air, and landed feet-first like she’d bounced off a spring. Charging forward, she drew the dagger she had hidden in her combat boots.

They had rifles. She had a small blade.

But Nicole tore through them like a wolf let loose among sheep, each motion swift and deadly, peeling away their defense layer by layer, until—finally—only Eric was left standing.

She stalked toward him, blade in hand.

Three loyal guards instantly moved in front to protect him.

Eric, the picture of calm with golden hair and blue eyes, flashed a wistful smile. “So that’s why you never said yes when I proposed.”

Nicole said nothing.

He sighed lightly.

“You took up cooking just ‘cause I liked good food, didn’t you? Tch, gotta say—none of those Michelin chefs could come close to your cooking. Damn shame... guess I’ll never taste it again.”

Expression unreadable, Nicole gripped her dagger tighter.

Eric looked at her—the way someone might look at a storm about to hit. In his eyes, there was something strange: part anger, part pity. Then he laughed.

“Nicole, don’t you wanna know how I found out? Your cover was perfect, no flaws. You left me zero chances to fight back...”"Shut up!" Nicole yelled.

Eric looked at her, calm. "So... you did suspect something. Doesn’t matter anymore. Goodbye."

Then came a sharp metallic clink from the floor.

She knew that sound—a grenade pin.

Nicole kicked backward and dove toward the nearest pillar.

“Boom!”

Eric and the few guys who hadn't made it out in time were instantly torn to shreds.

The explosion was deafening—Nicole’s ears went completely numb, her vision flashing white for a few seconds.

Then, silence.

Probably because her ears were still ringing too much to catch any sound.

She tried to move her arm, the one that had taken a bullet—grimaced as pain shot through her. With the other, barely steady hand, she reached up and touched her face.

Her scalp felt like it had been scorched raw from the heatwave, and her face... sticky and wet. Blood. Hers? Theirs? Who knew.

Staggering slightly, she forced herself upright, hand pressed to the floor for balance.

Slowly, the ringing faded. Footsteps echoed behind her.

"Great job, Nicole."

A man in his fifties with silvery blond hair stepped through the wreckage, clapping slowly. He looked utterly unfazed by the corpses littering the place. Dressed in a sharp suit, hair slicked back, his sharp eyes cut right through her.

Nicole frowned slightly, wiping a smear of blood from her lips. "Why are you here? It’s still not safe."

With a wave of his hand, the group of suited bodyguards behind him melted into the shadows.

"I never worry when you're in charge." He looked her over, voice casual. "How long have you been with me, Nicole?"

"Since I was a baby. It's been twenty-eight years," she answered, standing stiff with military precision.

His gaze softened—just for a second. "Twenty-eight years... amazing."

She kept her hands behind her back, spine straight. "Yes, sir."

"No need to be so formal now," he chuckled.

Nicole nodded but didn’t move an inch.

"You've done so much for me… how many people have you taken out, huh?" He leaned slightly, chin on his hand, reminiscing aloud. "You learned to blend in—piano, violin… cooking. Your marksmanship, your coding skills. You even learned to act just to infiltrate deep. Honestly, Nicole, you've worked harder than anyone."

Something started to feel off, though she kept her tone steady. “It was my duty.”

He sighed. “I thought Eric would be... tougher.”

Eric, now nothing but pieces.

Nicole’s brow furrowed.

"...If he had been tougher, I wouldn’t have had to handle you myself.”

She froze.

Bang.

A searing heat shot through her chest, followed by a cold hollowness.

She looked down—right over her heart, a black hole was blooming, blood gushing through torn flesh.

Her knees buckled. She dropped.

Head tilting up, she fought to focus through the blood haze clouding her vision—trying to look at the man she'd called father for almost three decades.

He pulled out a white handkerchief, wiped the blood from his cheek and wrist, then stared down, his face like stone.

"You just knew too much, Nicole. I can’t keep you around knowing what you know. Bye now.”

So that promise—after this last mission, I’d be free—that was a lie too.

She never asked for much. Just wanted to live a real life. To taste freedom... To be human for once.

But of course, with someone like him? She should’ve known better.

Nicole let out a bloody laugh, coughing as she pressed weakly at her chest. Her arms trembled. Strength was leaving fast.

She wanted to say something, but... what was the point?

Whatever.

So this is it.

She was so, so tired.