MY ASSASSIN IS MY MATE

NIA

You know that feeling when you can’t figure out how fate flipped your life upside down in a single heartbeat? Yeah. That’s me—lying in the bed of the man I was supposed to kill, who turned out to be my mate.

I stare at the ceiling, tracing invisible cracks with my eyes, trying to make sense of it all. Fate has a sick sense of humor. Last night I was Silent Blade—ghost, killer, legend. Now I’m just Nia—confused, sore, and wrapped in sheets that smell like the man I swore to end.

My wolf stretches lazily inside me, content. Traitor.

The sunlight creeping through the glass walls is too bright, almost mocking. The city sprawls below like nothing happened.

I swing my legs out of bed and wince. The bandages around my arm are fresh.

Knight Golden.

My jaw tightens at the memory of his smirk, the sound of his laugh, the way he said “my mate” like it meant something sacred instead of catastrophic.

I push to my feet, slow and careful. Every muscle complains, but standing feels like taking back control.

The penthouse is quiet. No guards. No noise. Just the distant hum of the city below. My weapons are gone, but I can smell the faint burn of silver in the air. He must’ve locked them away.

I move through the space barefoot, scanning for exits. The floor-to-ceiling windows catch my reflection—a ghost in one of his shirts. Great. He even changed me.

There’s coffee on the counter. Two mugs. One empty, one steaming.

Before I can decide whether to throw one or drink it, I hear a voice—his voice—from the next room.Speaking into a phone.

“…No, keep the pack on standby. I’ll deal with the council myself. Yes, I’m aware of the rogue contract. Containment first. Then we talk retaliation.”

Containment. Retaliation. The words crawl under my skin.

He’s not just a CEO. He’s an Alpha—probably one with influence far beyond his fancy skyscraper and smug grin.

I should leave. Disappear before this bond becomes another chain.

I take a step toward the door.

“Morning, Silent Blade,” Knight’s voice cuts through the quiet. “Sleep well? You didn’t stab anyone in your dreams, did you?”

I turn slowly. He’s leaning against the doorway, phone tucked in his pocket, sunlight turning his hair gold. The bastard looks rested.

“You’re still alive,” I say flatly. “Guess not.”

“Barely.” He gestures at the coffee. “I made you some. Black. Figured a killer’s not the cream-and-sugar type.”

I cross my arms. “You figured wrong.”

His lips twitch. “So there’s a soft side under all that steel.”

I grab the mug anyway. It’s hot, bitter, and annoyingly perfect. “Don’t flatter yourself. You’re just good at guessing.”

“I’m good at survival,” he says, watching me. “And apparently, I’m good at rescuing assassins too.”

“I didn’t ask you to.”

“You were unconscious. Hard to ask for anything when you’re bleeding out on my floor.”

I take another sip, trying to ignore the way his eyes track every movement like he’s cataloging me.

“Why am I still here?” I ask finally.

He shrugs. “Figured it’d be rude to dump my mate in an alley.”

I roll my eyes. “Stop calling me that.”

“Stop pretending you don’t feel it.”

The bond hums, like it heard him. My pulse trips, heat blooming under my skin. I look away first.

He walks to the kitchen, his presence filling the room. “You hungry?”

“I don’t eat with my targets.”

“Then consider me your patient. You can feed the wounded.”

I glare, but my stomach betrays me with a low growl. He grins and starts cracking eggs into a pan like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

“You know,” he says over the sizzle, “most mates share breakfast before plotting each other’s deaths.”

“Most mates aren’t on opposite sides of a kill order.”

He glances over his shoulder. “Touché.”

We eat in silence. Well, I eat; he watches. His kitchen smells like coffee and home.

After a while, he slides a datapad across the counter. “This is what we found on the mercs who hit you.”

I skim the file. No names. No origins. Just redacted records and one untraceable payment trail.

“They were paid through supernatural channels,” he says. “Whoever hired them knew what they were doing.”

My throat tightens. My handler. He must’ve known. He set me up.

“Whoever you were working for,” Knight continues softly, “they sold you out.”

I force a shrug, though my hands tremble around the datapad. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Still hurts like the first,” he says quietly.

I meet his gaze, and for a moment, there’s no sarcasm there—just understanding. It’s worse than the teasing. It feels like truth.

The air shifts again. The bond rises between us. I grip the counter hard, but it doesn’t stop the heat curling through my veins.

Knight’s eyes darken, wolf glint flickering gold. “You feel that too.”

“I feel nothing,” I lie.

He steps closer, slow enough that I can stop him, but I don’t. The space between us vibrates with tension.

“Liar,” he murmurs.

I move before my sanity gives way, brushing past him toward the balcony. “I need air.”

The city wind slaps me awake . I lean on the railing, breathing until the world steadies again.

Of course, he follows. He always does.

“You don’t have to trust me,” he says, voice low behind me. “But if you stay, I can protect you.”

“I don’t need protection.”

“No,” he admits. “You need answers.”

I glance back at him. The morning light softens his edges, makes him look less like a monster, more like a man. It’s dangerous.

He continues, “Whoever ordered that hit isn’t done. You want to find them? You’ll need me.”

I cross my arms. “And what do you get out of this?”

He smiles. “A live mate. Maybe a thank-you. Definitely entertainment.”

“Try patience,” I mutter.

“Temporary alliance?” he offers, extending a hand.

I stare at it for a long moment, then take it. His grip is firm. The bond hums like approval.

“Temporary,” I warn.

He grins. “Until fate decides otherwise.”

That night, I lie awake in the guest room, staring at the ceiling again. The city outside glows against the glass. Somewhere down the hall, I can hear him moving—steady footsteps, the low murmur of a voice call. Safe.

My wolf sighs, content.

I press a hand to my chest, feeling the faint echo of his heartbeat through the bond.

I came here to kill him.

Now I’m starting to think fate didn’t just twist the blade—

It turned it back on me.