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Prologue
The wedding day of Arian Guzun. Ferma La Guzun, the residence of Zafira Guzun, nestled on the banks of the Dniester River, Dubasari, Moldova…
“It seems I missed theI dopart of the wedding.” Derision drowned out the tinge of regret in his voice. His eyes were as cold as the Arctic wind and as sharp as a sword’s edge. They remained fixed on Arian Guzun through the scope of the XS1 TrackingPoint sniper rifle.
“Trouble in paradise already, Pakhan?” He snorted, paying little attention to the man striding purposefully toward the bedroom where his newly acquired wife had disappeared moments earlier.
The man was not his target.
“Oh no, I have something much more entertaining in mind for you.” An ominous Cheshire grin crept across the assassin’s face as he stared at his target through the scope. “As for her, she’s the perfect catalyst to accelerate the war. No more procrastinating, Guzun.”
Having arrived during the ongoing ceremony, he occupied his time by observing the proceedings through the scope. His gaze was momentarily diverted by a low-level bridge leading to the driveway of the house. An insatiable investigator by nature, his mind wandered, pondering how many bricks were used to construct it and how the imperfect blocks of clay had come together to create a resilient structure that had withstood the test of time. His eyes scanned the golden-yellow surface, appreciating the variations in hue, some parts appearing more earthen brown. In his imagination, the water flowing beneath represented an immortal, fluid vein of the planet—guarding the entrance to the Guzun’s nest.
“Destul! Get your mind back in the game,” he quietly cursed himself for wasting time on such trivial matters as he returned his gaze to the grand mansion. Guests were gaily celebrating the union of the happy couple with music and dance. “How quaint to celebrate such a farce, or how say I, Arian?”
Not everyone was enjoying the reception—the target he was there to eliminate was one of them. Unfortunately for her, that was a judgment error. First, she segregated herself from the masses, setting herself up as an easy target. Next, she gave in to emotional distress rather than having fun at the reception—worse, she forgot to pay attention to potential dangers.
“Isn’t there a saying that one should savor every moment of life, as you never know when it might end?”
Or was that his philosophy?
“Yeah, you should’ve drowned your sorrows with the overpriced bubbly, danced, and had some fun because your moment has come.” His finger curled into the trigger guard, briefly caressing the metal before locking onto his target through the scope. “You make it so easy,Comare.”
There was a time when he was known as one of the world’s deadliest assassins. Tapping into the mindset that had earned him that accolade, he cleared his thoughts with his gaze steady as he watched the elegant woman walking toward the window. At this moment, she meant nothing to him. Any emotional connections they had once shared were now severed. No empathy softened the icy gleam in his eyes as he observed her wiping tears from her cheeks.
“As you sow, so shall you reap,” he grunted, his words eerie amid the hummingbird’s cheerful chirping overhead.
The slight hesitation before he squeezed the trigger wasn’t deliberate, but in that brief moment, the outcome of his mission was unintentionally altered. The birds continued to twitter, undisturbed by the soft click and whirr as the bullet left the rifle’s barrel.
He released a slow exhale as he watched the impact forcefully propel the fragile woman off her feet. Grimly, he witnessed her hurled against the wall like a ragdoll before crumpling to the floor.
By the time she fell, the disassembled rifle was stowed in its case. Unhurriedly, as if without a care, he mounted the hidden dirt bike, kick-started it, and sped away. A smug smile played on his lips as he glanced back toward where he had just come.
“Now, the real war begins.”
Chapter One
Current day.
Six weeks later, Medpark International Hospital, Chisinau, Moldova…
Awareness, being mindful of her surroundings regardless of the situation she was in, had been ingrained in her since she was a little girl. In her opinion, it was an essential tool for every human being. Over time, she honed her skills and knew how to anticipate and react to potential dangers or opportunities, and in doing so, she made informed decisions. Using those senses was the best weapon and defense mechanism for man. Some had a better grasp of using it to their advantage. Others failed miserably, and because of that, they found themselves caught in undesirable situations.
Her entire life, she had been trained and prepared for the unexpected. Nothing ever unsettled her—well, if it did, no one would know. An untenable ability to hide her thoughts behind a mask of indifference or feigned joy had been both her strength and her weakness.
Confidence fueled success, but too much of it led to downfall.
Exactly what had happened to her.
She had been exposed, compromised in a power struggle no one could have foreseen. It was also the reason why she was stuck in a hospital bed, swathed in bandages like a mummy.
She was weary of the charades, the pretense of playing dead, of keeping her eyes closed. If not for one man, she would have been dead. She wasn’t sure if her suspicion was correct, but if it was, it was a man she had believed to be a betrayer. Now, she owed him her life.
How fucking unfair is that?
Cognizance surged as her body reacted to the external stimuli. She was immediately on alert. Keeping her muscles relaxed with her eyelids unmoving, she appeared as a lifeless figure.
Movement.
