The smell of blood and burnt wood lingered in the air long after Liam left the room again, his boots thudding down the hallway like a death knell. Katherine stood in the center of the wrecked bedroom, her legs still shaky from the electric shock, the faint line of blood on her neck crusting into a thin, red scab. The broken glass crunched under her bare feet as she moved, but she paid it no mind—her gaze was fixed on the black folder on the nightstand, the words "Lock Organization" burning into her retinas like a curse.
He knew. Not just that she was an assassin, but that she was the Black Phoenix.
The realization settled in her bones like ice, cold and unforgiving, but it did not break her. If anything, it sharpened her resolve. Liam Qiu had survived her first attempt. He had hunted her. He had trapped her. But he had not killed her—not yet. That meant he wanted something. Maybe answers. Maybe a game. Maybe he craved the thrill of breaking the woman who had dared to pierce his heart three years ago. Whatever it was, Katherine would use it. She would play his game, dance to his tune, and when he least expected it, she would strike. This time, she would not fail.
She crossed the room slowly, her fingers brushing the edge of the nightstand. The folder was thick, its cover stiff and unyielding, as if it held the weight of all her sins. She hesitated for a moment, listening for any sound of footsteps in the hallway—Stevens, or worse, Liam—but the mansion was silent, save for the distant crash of waves and the crackle of the dying fireplace. With a quick, precise movement, she flipped open the folder.
Inside were photos, documents, newspaper clippings—all about the Lock Organization. Names of operatives, mission reports, target lists. Her own face stared back at her from a faded surveillance photo, taken years ago, before she had become the Black Phoenix. Her hair was shorter then, her eyes harder, no trace of the fragile blind girl she now pretended to be. Next to it was a report, typed in cold, clinical words:
Subject: Black Phoenix (Katherine Wei).
Status: Presumed dead.
Last seen: Obsidian Tower, night of the failed assassination of Liam Qiu.
Notes: High threat. Extreme agility. Signature weapon: willow-leaf dagger.
Motive: Revenge for the murder of parents, Wei Cheng and Lin Mei, at the hands of Black Lotus Syndicate.
Katherine's jaw tightened. He had everything. He knew her name, her past, her motive. He even had the photo of her parents—their faces smiling, unaware of the fate that awaited them at the hands of Liam's men. A flicker of rage burned in her chest, hot and unrelenting, but she forced it down. Rage was a weakness. Rage made you careless. And carelessness would get her killed.
She flipped to the next page, and her breath caught. It was a photo of Zane, standing outside a warehouse on the edge of Iron City, his face half-hidden in shadow, shaking hands with a man in a Black Lotus jacket. The date on the photo was two weeks ago—long after Zane had told her he was hiding her from Liam, long after he had claimed to be her only ally.
Katherine's fingers curled into fists, her nails digging into her palms. He had been working with Liam all along. Using her as a pawn, a lure to draw Liam out, or maybe to prove his loyalty to the man who had destroyed everything she loved. The betrayal stung worse than the electric shock, worse than the bullet that had scarred her shoulder. But she did not cry. She did not grieve. She simply closed the folder, placed it back on the nightstand, and wiped her fingerprints away with the hem of her nightgown.
The sound of a soft knock at the door made her freeze. She quickly resumed her blind-girl posture—head down, shoulders hunched, hands clasped in front of her—before calling out, her voice still hoarse from screaming, "C-come in."
Stevens entered, his expression as stoic as ever, but Katherine noticed the way his eyes flickered over the broken vase, the blood on the carpet, the faint scab on her neck. He carried a tray with a glass of water and a small white pill, his gloved hands moving with precise, mechanical movements.
"Mr. Qiu sent this," he said, placing the tray on the dresser. His voice was flat, no hint of emotion, but when he spoke again, it was softer, almost a whisper. "The pill is for the pain. He… he said you'll need it."
Katherine stared at the pill, suspicion coiling in her stomach. It could be a sedative. A poison. A way to keep her docile, to make her easier to control. But she had no choice. Refusing would only arouse more suspicion. She reached out, her hand trembling slightly, and picked up the pill, popping it into her mouth and washing it down with the water. The liquid was cold, soothing her parched throat, but the pill left a bitter aftertaste on her tongue.
"Thank you," she murmured, keeping her head down. "Did… did Mr. Qiu say when he'll be back?"
Stevens hesitated, as if weighing whether to answer. "He has business in Iron City. He will return by dawn. He also said… you are to clean this room. No one else will do it. If it is not spotless by the time he returns… there will be consequences."
Consequences. The word hung in the air, cold and threatening. Katherine nodded, her voice barely audible. "I understand. I'll clean it. I promise."
Stevens nodded, turning to leave, but he paused at the door, his gaze lingering on her for a moment. "Miss Wei," he said, his voice so soft she almost missed it. "Be careful. Mr. Qiu… he does not forgive betrayal. Not even from those who pretend to be weak."
The door closed softly behind him, leaving Katherine alone in the room. She stood there for a long moment, processing his words. Was he warning her? Sympathizing with her? Or was it another test, a way for Liam to see if she would react, if she would show her true self? She did not know. But she knew one thing: she could not trust anyone. Not Zane. Not Stevens. Not even herself, if she let her guard down.
She turned to the mess, rolling up the sleeves of her nightgown, her movements sharp and efficient—no longer the clumsy, blind girl, but the assassin she truly was. She picked up the broken glass, piece by piece, her fingers moving deftly, avoiding the sharp edges. She wiped the blood from the carpet with a damp cloth, scrubbing until the red stain faded to a faint pink. She straightened the dresser, picked up the fallen vase, and disposed of the pieces in a trash can in the corner. Every movement was deliberate, every action a chance to study the room—to memorize the location of the safe, the gun on the dresser, the folder on the nightstand. To plan.
By the time she finished, the room was spotless, as if no fight had ever happened. The fireplace had died down to embers, casting a faint, warm glow over the room. Katherine collapsed onto the edge of the bed, her body exhausted, but her mind racing. The pill had started to take effect, a dull numbness spreading through her limbs, but it did not cloud her thoughts. She thought about Liam—his ice-blue eyes, his dragon tattoo, the way he had pressed the dagger to her throat. She thought about Zane, his lies, his betrayal. She thought about her parents, their smiling faces, the way they had been taken from her. And she thought about the Lock Organization—its ruins, its members, the blood that had been spilled in its name.
A soft beep from the collar around her neck made her jump. She reached up, her fingers brushing the cold metal. It was a tracking device, just as Zane had said—but it was also a weapon, a noose around her neck, ready to strike at Liam's command. She wondered if there was a way to disable it, to break free from its control. But she knew better than to try—not yet. Liam would be watching, monitoring her every move. Any attempt to tamper with the collar would be a death sentence.
The sound of footsteps in the hallway pulled her from her thoughts. They were heavy, deliberate, the sound of boots against the carpet—Liam was back. Katherine quickly lay down on the bed, pulling the covers up to her chin, closing her eyes, and pretending to be asleep. She slowed her breathing, making it deep and steady, her body going limp, as if the pill had knocked her out.
The door creaked open, and Liam stepped into the room. She could smell him before she heard him—the scent of blood, whiskey, and cedar, stronger than before, as if he had just come from another fight. His footsteps moved toward the bed, slow and deliberate, and she could feel his gaze burning into her, as if he was checking to see if she was really asleep.
He stopped beside the bed, and she felt his hand brush against her cheek, his fingers cold and calloused, the same hand that had pressed the dagger to her throat, that had triggered the collar. She fought the urge to flinch, to pull away, to strike. She kept her eyes closed, her face blank, pretending to be unconscious.
"You think I believe you're asleep?" he murmured, his voice low and dangerous, his breath hot against her ear. "You think I don't know you were looking at the folder? You think I don't know you're planning something, Black Phoenix?"
Katherine's heart raced, but she did not move. She kept her eyes closed, her breathing steady, refusing to give herself away. He was testing her again, trying to make her slip up, to confirm his suspicions. But she would not. She had come too far.
Liam laughed, a cold, harsh sound that sent chills down her spine. "You're good. I'll give you that. But you're not perfect. I see the fire in your eyes. I see the way you move, even when you're pretending to be blind. You're not scared of me, Katherine. You're angry. You're hungry for revenge. And that's going to be your downfall."
He pulled his hand away, and she heard him move to the nightstand, picking up the black folder. She heard him flip through the pages, the sound of paper rustling in the silence.
"You know about Zane, don't you?" he said, his voice neutral, but there was a hint of amusement in it. "You know he's been working for me? That he sold you to me to save his own skin? That he's the one who told me you were alive, that you were the Black Phoenix?"
Katherine's body tensed for a split second, but she quickly relaxed, pretending to shift in her sleep. She already knew, but hearing it from Liam's mouth made the betrayal sting even more. Zane had been her only link to the past, her only "family." And he had been using her all along.
"He thought he could manipulate both of us," Liam continued, closing the folder with a sharp snap. "He thought he could use you to kill me, and then use me to get rid of you. But he's a fool. A coward. He doesn't realize that I've been playing him just as he's been playing you. And when this is over, he'll pay. Just like you will."
Liam moved to the chair beside the bed, sitting down with a heavy thud. Katherine could hear him pour himself a glass of whiskey, the sound of liquid sloshing against the glass. She kept her eyes closed, her mind racing. What was his plan? What did he want from her? Was he going to keep her trapped here forever, torturing her, testing her, until she broke? Or was he waiting for her to make a move, to give him an excuse to kill her?
"You know," he said, after a long silence, his voice softer, almost reflective. "Three years ago, when you stabbed me, I thought I was going to die. I felt the blade in my chest, the blood pouring out, and for a moment, I was scared. Not of dying, but of never finding you. Never knowing why you tried to kill me. Never getting my revenge."
Katherine's eyes remained closed, but her ears pricked up. This was the first time he had spoken about that night, about the assassination attempt. It was a crack in his armor, a hint of vulnerability. She filed it away, storing it in her memory—another piece of the puzzle, another weakness she could exploit.
"But then I survived," he continued, his voice hardening again. "And I hunted you. For three years, I searched every corner of the world, looking for the Black Phoenix. And then Zane came to me, offering you on a silver platter. He said you were blind, broken, easy to control. But I knew better. I knew it was you. The way you walk. The way you hold your head. The scar on your shoulder. Even the way you lie—it's the same as it was three years ago."
He stood up, his footsteps moving toward the door.
"Sleep well, Katherine. Tomorrow, the game gets harder. And this time, I won't be so lenient. If you slip up—if you show even a hint of the Black Phoenix—you'll regret it. I promise you that."
The door closed softly behind him, and Katherine finally opened her eyes. The room was dark, the only light coming from the embers in the fireplace. She sat up slowly, her heart still racing, the numbness from the pill fading, replaced by a cold, burning resolve. Liam knew everything. Zane had betrayed her. She was trapped, outnumbered, outgunned. But she was the Black Phoenix. She had survived worse. She had fought harder. And she would have her revenge.
She looked at the door, her eyes sharp and cold. Tomorrow, the game would get harder. But she was ready. She would play Liam's game, dance to his tune, and when the moment was right—when he least expected it—she would strike. She would drive her willow-leaf dagger into his heart, just like she had three years ago. And this time, she would finish the job.
As she lay back down, closing her eyes, she made a vow. A vow to her parents. A vow to the Lock Organization. A vow to herself. She would kill Liam Qiu. No matter what it took. No matter how much she had to suffer. No matter how many lies she had to tell. She would be free. And she would make him pay.