12 | Brother

                                    

                                          

AN: Anything italic with a line under it, is a translation for the Russian words 


The gala continued, the low hum of conversations filling the grand hall, but I was laser-focused on one thing.
Kylan Bianchi. 
The man who held the power, the boss wanted dead. 
I watched him from across the room, his posture rigid, his eyes sharp as he surveyed the gala . He was suspicious—he could feel something off in the air, but he didn't know what was coming.
I adjusted my jacket, the knife hidden in its sheath, resting just beneath my arm. 
My hand brushed against the handle, feeling the cool metal as if it was an extension of me. 
The mission was clear. Eliminate Kylan. End the Bianchi empire.
Ryder stood beside me, his expression unreadable as always. 
He had been quiet tonight, more so than usual. 
But I couldn't worry about that. My focus was on the task ahead.
I waited, watching as Kylan excused himself from the conversation he was having with an older man. 
He moved toward the hallway leading to the bathrooms, his steps calculated, his face expressionless. 
This was my moment.
I followed Kylan down the hall, keeping my distance, making sure no one noticed me. 
The gala was loud enough, distracting enough, that no one would think twice about me disappearing for a moment. 
I stayed in the shadows, my movements fluid and practiced.
Kylan disappeared into the bathroom, and I waited for a beat before stepping forward. 
The hallway was empty. My heart pounded in my chest, not out of fear or hesitation, but from the adrenaline coursing through me. 
I pushed open the door, silently slipping inside.
Kylan stood at the sink, washing his hands, unaware of my presence. 
The reflection of his face in the mirror was calm, but he didn't see me yet. 
My hand gripped the knife tightly. 
This was it - the moment I had been molded for. The moment to end Kylan's life.
But as I went in for the kill, a sudden hesitation crept over me.  
A strange feeling that something wasn't right. 
Yet, I pushed it aside and lunged forward, aiming for his vulnerable neck.
Just as my weapon was about to connect, a vice-like grip wrapped around my wrist, halting my attack.  
It was Kylan's ruthless second in command, Matteo. 
In a split second, he had appeared out of nowhere and now held me in a suffocating grasp.
I hadn't seen him. 
"Kylan!" Matteo shouted, his voice urgent, but Kylan had already reacted. 
He spun around, his eyes wide as he realized what was happening. 
With no time to waste, I shifted my weight and struck again, this time aiming for Kylan's side.
The blade tore through flesh and his pained scream filled the bathroom.