The drive back to the House of Vipers headquarters was silent, the type of silence that felt heavy, pressing, almost alive. Bianca Romano—Bloody Rose—sat in the back seat of the armored vehicle, her fingers still curled as if they were holding the trigger that ended a man's life.
She hadn't even realized she was still clutching air until her knuckles began to ache.
Her first kill.
Her first step into the dark world she had chosen.
The world she swore she needed.
The world she knew she would drown in if she wasn't strong enough.
Outside the tinted window, the city lights blurred into streaks of gold and red, like smudged memories she wasn't ready to face. The mission had been clean, sharp, successful—Lorenzo's crew retrieved the stolen goods, eliminated threats, and destroyed a Viper traitor who had sold their routes to rival clans.
Bianca played her part perfectly.
But perfection didn't stop her stomach from twisting.
"Bloody Rose." Zero's deep voice came from the front seat, not stern… almost gentle. That alone startled her. "You did good."
She swallowed hard. "Thank you… Second."
He turned his head slightly, catching her reflection in the mirror. "It's normal," he said. "The first one hits different. Your blood pressure spikes for hours. Your senses stay sharp even after the fight. Some rookies vomit the first night."
She didn't. But she felt like she might.
She didn't say anything. She didn't trust her own voice yet.
Back at headquarters, the car pulled into the underground garage. The engine's rumble died, and Zero opened the back door for her.
"Go to the training hall," he said. "You have to walk it off. Resting now will make it worse."
She nodded and stepped out.
Her legs felt like someone else's.
As she walked deeper into the metallic corridors of the House of Vipers, the gravity of what she'd done stabbed at her chest.
She killed a man.
She killed someone with her own hands.
For revenge.
For survival.
For a future she hadn't fully seen yet.
Her stomach tightened sharply. She bent forward, pressing a hand to her abdomen as a wave of dizziness washed over her.
"Bianca."
Zero's voice echoed behind her.
She didn't even hear him approach.
He stopped in front of her, frowning. "You're pale."
"I'm fine," she lied.
Zero folded his arms. "It's the first kill syndrome. Some Vipers shake, some cry, some break down, some get sick. Your body isn't used to the adrenaline drop yet."
She exhaled shakily. "It feels… wrong."
"It always does." Zero's gaze softened—not pity, but understanding carved from experience. "But we don't kill without reason. You know that. And you, Bloody Rose… you came here with heavier reasons than most."
Bianca's throat tightened. She forced herself to stand upright.
"I won't fall apart," she whispered.
"I know you won't." Zero touched her shoulder gently. "That's why Lorenzo allowed you on this mission. He sees strength, even if he doesn't show it."
Bianca didn't answer.
She didn't want to think about Lorenzo.
Not tonight.
Zero motioned toward the training hall. "Come on. Walk it off by hitting something."
She followed him silently.
---
TRAINING IN THE DARK
The hall was empty, lit only by dim overhead lights that cast long shadows across the floor. Zero tossed her a pair of gloves.
"Punch the bag," he ordered.
She obeyed.
One punch.
Two.
Three.
Each hit made her arms tremble.
Zero watched her closely, hands behind his back. "Let your anger out, not your fear."
"I'm not afraid," she said, breathless.
"Hm." Zero stepped till he was right behind her. "Then prove it."
Bianca hit harder.
With each strike, the man's face flashed before her—not his actual features, but what he represented. Her father. Her past. Her pain. Her helplessness.
She hit harder until her hands throbbed.
Zero caught the punching bag, stopping its swing. "Good. Again."
They continued like that.
For minutes.
Then an hour.
Bianca didn't notice when her breathing steadied again, when her body felt lighter, when her thoughts were no longer drowning in guilt.
Zero smirked. "There. Told you."
Bianca looked at him, chest rising and falling. "Thank you… Zero."
For a moment, something almost warm passed between them—an understanding, a silent connection born from shared violence and survival.
Zero wasn't gentle.
He wasn't soft.
But he was present, and that mattered in a place like this.
He walked her to the lockers.
"You did well today," he said. "And tomorrow, you'll do better."
Bianca nodded, exhaustion sweeping through her bones.
That was when she felt it.
The weight of a gaze sharp enough to slice her in half.
She looked up.
Lorenzo DeLuca—the Reaper—stood in the doorway, his expression unreadable, his presence suffocating.
He wasn't supposed to be there.
He didn't normally visit the training hall unless he needed to break someone.
His cold eyes flickered to Zero's hand, still resting near Bianca's shoulder.
Zero noticed the tension and slowly stepped back.
Lorenzo said nothing.
He didn't need to.
His stare alone felt like punishment.
---
THE REAPER'S SILENCE
"Zero," Lorenzo said finally. His voice was low, deep, dangerous. "A word."
Zero nodded, following him a few steps away, out of Bianca's earshot—but not far enough to hide Lorenzo's tone.
"You've gotten very close to her," Lorenzo said.
Zero didn't flinch. "She needed support. She handled her first mission. I'm making sure she stays stable."
Lorenzo's jaw tightened. "She doesn't need comfort. She needs discipline."
Zero lifted a brow. "And you think punishing her endlessly will make her stronger?"
Lorenzo didn't answer.
Zero leaned slightly forward. "You're training her too hard. Or maybe you're afraid she'll break. Or maybe…" he glanced back at Bianca, "…you're afraid of something else."
Lorenzo froze.
Something flickered in his eyes—confusion, irritation, something he couldn't name.
"I do not feel anything for her," Lorenzo said, voice like a blade. "Do not mistake my discipline for interest."
Zero smirked faintly. "Whatever you say… Reaper."
Lorenzo walked away without another word.
But Bianca felt it.
When his eyes passed over her one last time.
A flicker.
Something she couldn't identify.
Something he refused to admit.
---
ICE QUEEN
Hours later, when Bianca went to her room, Lorenzo returned to his office.
He barely shut the door before a pair of delicate hands slid around his waist.
"Lorenzo," a sultry voice purred.
Ice Queen.
Dressed in silver silk, lips glossy, eyes hungry. She was the woman who warmed his bed, the one who craved his attention like oxygen.
But tonight, her touch irritated him.
He grabbed her wrist and removed her hold without hesitation. "Not now."
Ice Queen's perfect smile twitched. "You haven't touched me in days. What's wrong? Did something happen? The mission? Or—"
Her eyes narrowed.
"—is it because of her?"
Lorenzo's expression darkened instantly. "Watch your mouth."
Ice Queen scoffed softly. "That rookie. Bianca. Bloody Rose. Everyone sees how you look at her."
Lorenzo stepped closer, his voice cold as death. "I do not look at her."
Ice Queen frowned. "Then why does her name make you angry?"
Lorenzo didn't answer.
Because he didn't know.
Because earlier—when he saw her with Zero—something twisted inside him.
A tightening in his chest.
A burn he didn't recognize.
He hadn't felt something like that in years. Maybe ever.
Ice Queen reached for him again.
This time, he pushed her away.
"I'm not interested," he said flatly.
She stiffened, shocked. Angry. Jealous.
"You'll regret ignoring me," she hissed before storming out.
Lorenzo didn't care.
He leaned back in his chair, jaw clenched.
Bianca's face flashed in his mind—standing strong despite killing for the first time, despite fear, despite pain.
Why?
Why did he think of her?
He slammed a hand on his desk.
He hated this feeling.
Whatever it was.