"YOU can stay in this room. That door leads to the bathroom—there are towels and soap inside."Viktor spoke politely to the shy young man in front of him. Maxin nodded, glancing at the staircase, waiting for Nox to follow. "We need to talk." he added.
The woman gave a subtle nod, and together they went down the stairs. They passed through the living room and kitchen before entering a narrow hallway with two doors—one in the middle led to the backyard. The other, Viktor opened, revealing a small office space. A desk, a computer, a bookshelf, and a dark green two-seater couch filled the cozy room.
Viktor looked at her, and Nox could sense how hard he was working to stay composed. He walked to the desk and sat in one of the chairs, leaning over to open a drawer. From inside, he pulled out a small gray flask of whiskey. After taking a sip, he offered it to Nox. She declined.
A deep breath filled the room before he finally broke the silence.
"Have you lost your damn mind? You crazy woman! Why did you bring him here, Nox?" There was fire in his eyes.
"I had no other choice." she replied calmly, sitting down across from him. "Coming here wasn't in my plans. You know that. But... I don't trust anyone else but you." Viktor set the drink aside, face tightening with frustration. "Mariah and Bates are dead. It's only a matter of time before the Organization starts hunting me down."
"I warned you so many times, Nox. Over and over again." Viktor's voice rose. "I told you to drop this shit, to let that mission go. But you never listened. And now you've dragged this mess into my house." His head throbbed.
"Maxin is my target. I can't let anyone else kill him but me." She was firm, resolute.
"Do you even hear yourself? Fuck, Nox!"
Viktor slammed his fist on the desk. His knuckles turned red, and he threw his head back against the chair, staring at the wooden ceiling.Nox did the same, unmoved, without anger or regret. She had known what to expect when she came here.
His eyes clouded with a stormy gray landed on her again.
"You say he's your target, but don't you see? This isn't about you anymore. Maxin Romanov was doing fine. He had a life, for fuck's sake, he even had a different name! But you, like some rookie obsessed with a vendetta, showed up. You ruined his life once, and now you want to finish him off? Congratulations. Because of your shit, his location is exposed to killers even worse than us. I told you to make a choice. And what do you do? You kill two colleagues, and now show up at my door with him like nothing happened?"
"I wanted to kill him too! Damn it! I wanted to pull the trigger and send that boy to hell. But I can't! Like a goddamn coward, I can't shoot him—but I can't set him free either. Is that what you wanted to hear? You wanted me to admit I'm protecting a fucking target? Fine. You win."
Nox reached her breaking point. Her chest rose and fell rapidly as the weight of her choices finally pressed against her.
"A killer protecting her target? What is this, some fucking Shakespearean tragedy?" Viktor leaned forward, voice low and sharp. "Listen to me, Nox. Think. What are you planning to do? Drag him along until the end and die with him? You got lucky once, and now you're risking it all just because you saw him cry? The Organization might show mercy—but they don't forgive."
"There's no way out. I started this—I'll finish it. I'll find the one who gave the order, and I don't care how many people I have to kill to get there."
"Remember when Alistair told you that you were born to be a killing machine?" Viktor let out a bitter laugh. "Well, congratulations. You're finally fulfilling that fucked-up prophecy."
Silence settled like dust in the room. Viktor took another sip, watching her.She wasn't the same. And this wasn't new. For the last six months, her emotions had been simmering—slowly breaking through the walls she had spent years building. She didn't even seem to notice, but she'd already fallen too deep.
Even after the brutal punishment and her dismissal from the Organization, Nox kept working for Alistair. She kept receiving targets. Kept perfecting her aim. It was during one of those missions that she met Viktor.
Back then, he was a rookie—forced into the assassin world to support his family. They were opposites: one killed to survive, the other killed by choice. Yet somehow, they worked seamlessly together.
When Nox was expelled, Viktor had witnessed her cold composure, even with her back torn open and bleeding. That was just her. She never cared for others, not even herself. It was Viktor who first reached out, who offered to treat her wounds. While she remained indifferent, he had been careful. And Nox repaid his kindness with a generous sum to cover his hospital costs after the incident that led to her departure from the Organization.
He had since met Deborah, bought this house for peace—and yet, they never completely lost touch. Sometimes she'd call, asking about his unfinished missions. Sometimes she'd show up just to share a meal. She always picked up his calls. She even attended his wedding, waving politely from the back row. Somehow, she became the sister he never had.
That's why Viktor couldn't bear to watch her spiral deeper.
He got up, locked the whiskey flask back in the drawer—along with his pride—and placed a hand on her shoulder.
"So… what's your first move?"
His palm felt her muscles soften slightly, like a silent sigh of relief. In the end, they were partners. No matter how much they fought, they would always find their way back to helping each other.
"I'm going to train Maxin Romanov."
Dressed in fresh clothes, body clean and hair soft and fragrant, Maxin should've been enjoying the delicious lunch. But he couldn't ignore the tension aimed at him by the tall, bespectacled man seated at the table beside his wife and Nox.
"So… how long have you and Nox been dating?"
Deborah broke the silence, and Maxin's eyes went wide. He choked on his drink, coughing violently.Nox, sitting beside him, gently patted his back, feeling the vibration of his skin beneath her hand.
"Careful, darling." she murmured teasingly.
Maxin's ears turned a furious shade of red.
"We're still getting to know each other," Nox replied calmly to Deborah's question. She could feel the woman relax slightly—perhaps her lingering jealousy over her husband's mysterious friend could finally be laid to rest.
"You make a lovely couple," Deborah continued, until Viktor's hand slid under the table and gave her thigh a gentle squeeze, silently asking her to stop.
Lunch ended, and Viktor remained in the kitchen with Maxin standing timidly beside him. The boy seemed to sense the older man's hostility and avoided making any noise or sudden movements.
Nox, on the other hand, had to go to the office with Deborah—her injuries hadn't escaped the doctor's sharp eyes.
"...We were traveling, and while Maxin was at the gas station, some thugs showed up. I managed to escape, but still took a beating." she explained casually when asked about the wounds.
"And your arm? The stitches are clean, no sign of infection. Why didn't you go to a hospital?" Deborah's voice held suspicion—the story felt off.
"Deborah. Nox."
Viktor's voice echoed as he appeared in the doorway. Deborah turned toward him, distracted.Nox took the opportunity to thank her quietly for the medical care—both for her face and her arm—then slipped out the door.