~Chapter 1~ I sat perched, at 1:00am, on a polished streetlight in a rich neighbourhood, like a cat, waiting for my target to move. My legs were cramped. I’d been crouched here all night for an assassin job nobody in the Keep wanted to do. The rich neighbourhood had that sterile, manicured smell, all clipped grass and chemical flowers, pierced now and then by the sour stink drifting from overflowing trash bins at the curb. I wrinkle my nose in disgust. “For people so rich, they can’t seem to make their homes smell like anything other than a science lab.” I mutter The only other sounds were the distant whir of pool pumps and the restless tapping of a branch on the streetlight above me. My target, Alexander Credence, is extremely paranoid and spends too much time and money on his alarm systems, which beep and click at every movement. His fake-buff bodyguards, all cologne and bronzer, lumber around the front gate. Even from up here, I can see the orange smears of their spray tans standing out in the moonlight and hear the crunch of gravel under their too-shiny loafers as they circle the driveway for the third time. I’ve been at this house for hours now, and Credence doesn’t seem to mind all the people in the house, despite all the reports. Wait. I lied. He’s moving. As I shifted into a crouch, my leg started vibrating. “What the—” My phone picked up the number on its own accord. It only does that for one number. The Don put a high-tech chip in my phone so that I cannot ignore him. I’ve got to do this fast, or I’m in it deep. “Adola, I trust that the job is complete?” “Sorry, Boss Man,” I smirked. “This guy that nobody and yet everybody wants to kill is pretty hard to kill.” “Adola, get the job done. Enough fooling around or—” I hung up and rolled my eyes. “Do you think I don’t know that?” This mission is to settle the score between the Keeps—the shadowy syndicates that divide the city’s underworld like rival corporations. My Keep, the Keep of the Blades—better known as the Assassins’ Keep—operates from the third circle, just a rung beneath the Don’s inner sanctum. The Mafia here is not some myth whispered in alleyways: it’s a sprawling, real-world enterprise with lawyers on retainer, politicians in their pockets, and businesses serving as fronts on every block. Each circle runs like its own department: the first is for the Don and his capos, the old blood; the second for the fixers, the enforcers, the ones who make threats real; the third, our domain, where silent blades and clean hits decide who rises and who disappears. The Keeps are both rivals and partners—, Keeps of Shadows control the city’s smuggling routes and blackmail files, the Keep of Chains runs the debt rackets and underground prisons, and the Keep of Masks manages public image, bribes, and spin. We all answer to the Don, who rules the Above from his fortress Below, but competition is constant—every job is a chance to climb, or; fall. Tonight, my job is to take out a target before the Shadows get to him. It’s not just about a body count—it’s about reputation, revenue, and the delicate balance that keeps the whole criminal ecosystem running. This is about Valor and Honor.
