The soft morning light filters through the sheer curtains, casting a gentle glow across my living room. I sit comfortably on my plush, light gray couch, my legs curled up beneath me. The couch, adorned with a few colorful throw pillows, is positioned in a cozy corner of the room, surrounded by bookshelves filled with well-worn novels and small potted plants.

As a reader, it was essential for me to have bookshelves and sometimes lose myself in fictional men since I never was able to find one, just yet.

On the one hand, I hold a steaming mug of coffee, its rich aroma mingling with the faint scent of fresh flowers from the vase on the nearby coffee table. I take a slow sip, savoring the warmth and flavor, my eyes closing slightly in a moment of quiet appreciation. The coffee table, made of rustic wood, is cluttered with a few open books, a notepad with scribbled thoughts, and a pair of reading glasses.

I was never a fan of people. I hated being near them. They drained me, which I despised. Youth is supposed to be vibrant and full of energy, yet they siphoned it all away.

As I sit there, lost in my thoughts, the soft hum of my phone vibrating on the coffee table pulls me back to reality. My focus shifts from the comfortable quiet to the small device, curiosity piqued by the sudden interruption.

Marcus. Why so early?

Marcus: Hey, you awake?

I quickly typed back a reply.

Me: Yeah, what's up?

I saw his message bubble and he texted back.

Marcus: Nothing really. Have you had breakfast yet?

Thinking for a moment, I sighed and responded back.

Me: Yeah, why?

For a few minutes, he didn't reply. Concerned, I decided to call him but as I was about to, he replied.

Marcus: Nothing. Just wanted to hang out if you agree.

I smiled, things weren't as awkward as they were years ago.

Me: Sure, why not. I'll see you for lunch.

My phone vibrated again with an "Okay : )" to which I just sent a heart.

As someone who didn't hang out with a lot of people, I was only friends with Marcus and his sister, Rory but with others I was a professional which is what Svetlana preferred.

Speaking of her, my phone vibrated yet again with an incoming call from my boss.

"Yes ma'am?" I asked, waiting for her command.

"Nora, meet me at the HQ this afternoon," Svetlana replied in her flat, monotone vocals and hung up.

I sighed, yet another mission that makes my day going. It does bring me joy but it is often accompanied by a sense of doubt or conflict whether I might come out alive or not.

Remembering the days I was being trained, I sighed with a nostalgic smile. Those days were relentless in their severity.

The underground training facility enveloped me in its familiar, austere atmosphere. Concrete walls, stark and unadorned, lined with racks of lethal tools-weapons that had become extensions of my existence. I stood in the center of the dimly lit room, the training mat beneath my feet offering a slight cushion against the hard reality of what I was about to become.

My hands moved swiftly, almost mechanically, reassembling the handgun before me. The pieces clicked together with a practiced ease, a rhythm born from countless hours of repetition. Each movement was deliberate, and calculated-every motion a testament to the training that had molded me into this weapon of precision.

My father had me trained, early at an age where you might learn how to make friends yet here I was, learning to kill people. Not what I wanted but here I was.

Kostya, my mentor, observed me with the unwavering intensity that defined him, his gray hair made him look even more undaunted. His presence loomed over me, a constant reminder of the expectations I must meet. He was a man of words, so determined and tenacious. One of the reasons why my father let him train me.

His voice cut through the air like a blade as he demanded more from me, pushing me to my limits and beyond.

"Again, Nora!" His voice was gruff, commanding. "You must be faster. Efficient. Your life will depend on it out there."

I suppressed a sigh, the pressure mounting with each passing moment. Kostya's harshness was not born out of cruelty but from a desire to see me excel, to survive in the unforgiving world he was preparing me for. I knew this, yet it didn't make the training any easier. Difficult as every session was, I knew it would make me a better assassin.

Suddenly, without warning, Kostya snatched a knife from the nearby rack and hurled it toward me. Instinct took over as I sidestepped the blade but felt its sharp edge graze my arm. A jolt of pain shot through me, but I stifled any outward reaction. Kostya's lessons were harsh, his methods unorthodox, but they were rooted in a brutal truth-I needed to be prepared for anything.

"Was that really necessary?" I asked, my voice steady yet beneath the calm surface, there was a subtle tremor, a hint of vulnerability seeping through the carefully constructed facade as I stared at him wide-eyed.

He approached me, his gaze piercing as he stood inches away. "Out there, they won't hesitate. They won't give you a second chance," he explained, his tone softening slightly. "You must anticipate danger. Feel it coming. Pain is your teacher, Nora. Learn from it."

I nodded, acknowledging his words even as I inwardly cursed the sting of the wound. Kostya was right, I couldn't afford distractions or doubts. The path I had chosen required unwavering focus, and a willingness to endure whatever challenges came my way.

With a nod of approval, he handed me a folder containing intel on my first mission. I accepted it with a determined grip, my eyes scanning the details with a mix of anticipation and apprehension. This was it; the culmination of years of training, leading to this pivotal moment.

"I won't let you down, Kostya," I affirmed, my voice firm with resolve.

He placed a hand on my shoulder, a rare gesture of reassurance from the man who had shaped me into what I was becoming. "I know you won't," he said quietly. "Trust your instincts. They will keep you alive."

The man had shaped me into what I am today. My father wasn't an absent man but as though he was, I preferred Kostya over him. It didn't infuriate him, no, he was glad I got the training I needed.

In those days, I had met my other mates too, and the ones who did missions for Svetlana.

Svetlana was an interesting being, or so everyone had made up about her. She exuded an aura of unwavering resolve, her voice steady and unwavering as she faced down challenges. She stood tall, unyielding in her principles, and her words carried a quiet strength that brooked no nonsense.

No one could say no to her. That's why she was everyone's boss and ruled a great deal.

....

I pushed open the door to the quaint coffee café, the bell above jingling softly. The warm aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the murmur of quiet conversations, creating a surprisingly cozy atmosphere. I spotted Marcus at our usual corner table, his familiar silhouette a comforting sight in the midst of the café's bustle.

Marcus looked up as I approached, a genuine smile spreading across his face. "Hey, Nora," he greeted, standing to give me a brief, friendly hug. "Right on time."

I returned his smile, feeling a flicker of warmth. "Hey, Marcus. You know I never miss coffee."

We settled into our seats, the polished wooden table between us adorned with a simple vase of flowers. Marcus had already ordered, and a steaming cup of coffee awaited me.

"So," Marcus began, leaning back in his chair, "Svetlana called you as well?"

I took a sip of my coffee, savoring the rich flavor with a confused expression. "Yeah, she called you too?"

"Hmm, she did," he replied, drinking his coffee. "I assumed she called you too since you're her favorite."

Nora chuckled in bewilderment. "Not true. If I was, I wouldn't get scolded so much even if I've done nothing wrong."

Marcus nodded, his eyes attentive. "If that were the truth, she wouldn't be giving the best cases to the best assassin in town. She trusts you a lot, you should know that."

I laughed, the sound blending into the ambient noise of the café. "Maybe. Anyway, forget Svetlana. Tell me what's going on in your personal life. Any dates?"

He looked at me as if I had offended him, making him roll his eyes. "No. And the girl you told me to go on a date with, she wanted to have a foursome. Not a threesome, but a foursome, as if that's even a thing."

I couldn't hold in my laughter, my hand covering my mouth as I watched the annoyed expression on his face with amusement. "I'm sorry. I genuinely didn't know she was into that stuff. Next time I find a girl for you, she'll be normal. I promise."

"Hell nah," he rejected with a horrified look. "Next time I might end up with a woman who likes to murder her ex-boyfriends."

We lingered over our coffees, savoring the rare moment of normalcy before the inevitable return to our chaotic lives. The conversation meandered through lighter topics-old friends, favorite movies, and even a bit of friendly banter about who could handle their missions better. But eventually, the time came to part ways.

"Hey, do you remember Emily? The escort I met in Berlin?" Marcus asked as I finished my last sip of coffee. "She got married to her step-sister."

I cringed, placing my now empty cup on the table. "Really? That's disgusting but good for her. She won't have to do escort servicing anymore."

"Who said she isn't doing escort servicing anymore?"

My laughter rang out, a blend of genuine amusement and unmistakable embarrassment. It started as a chuckle, my eyes sparkling with humor, but quickly turned into a slightly awkward giggle as I felt my cheeks flush a deep shade of red.

Marcus glanced at his watch, a hint of reluctance in his eyes. "I guess we should get going," he said, standing up and stretching.

"Yeah," I agreed, finishing the last of my coffee. "Duty calls."

We stepped outside, the cool air a stark contrast to the warmth of the café. Marcus turned to me, his expression amused yet warm. "See you at the HQ."

"You too, Marcus," I replied, giving him a reassuring smile. "Bye."

"Bye."

We left the cafe in opposite directions with smiles on our faces. It felt good to catch up with personal lives once in a while.

Now, it's back to the grind. Off to headquarters for yet another deadly mission. Seems like that's just the rhythm of my life.

{Word Count- 1910}

A/N

Ahh here is chapter 2! I hope you enjoyed! Longer chapter this time.

What do you think about Marcus till now?

Please vote and comment. It will help me with the book ranking.

Anyways, see ya next week!

xoxo

-lily