Talia Rhodes

The rain-soaked lights of the city smeared across the windows as Talia Rhodes stepped into the abandoned penthouse, every instinct screaming that she was already too late. She had planned this moment down to the second—the silent entry, the clean shot, the quiet disappearance—but plans had a way of unraveling when least forgiven. Her pistol came up on reflex, the trigger clicking uselessly beneath her finger. Empty. Across the room, the man she’d been sent to erase turned slowly, a faint smile curling at the corner of his mouth as if he’d been expecting her all along. Talia’s pulse stayed steady even as her options evaporated. No backup, no clean exit, only the cold knowledge that she had been maneuvered into this confrontation with surgical precision. The villain’s voice was calm, almost conversational, as he gestured to the doors locking one by one behind her.