MY ASSASSIN IS MY MATE

NIA

Avoidance is an art. And after the kiss, I became a master of it. Three days. That’s how long it had been since I’d let instinct take the wheel and lost control with Knight Golden. Three days since his lips had crashed against mine like fate itself had demanded it. Three days since my pulse stopped belonging to just me. Now, I was doing everything in my power to pretend it hadn’t happened.

I trained until my muscles burned. I buried myself in data and mission reports. I left the penthouse before dawn and returned long after midnight. If I crossed paths with Knight, it was by accident and even then, I made sure it was brief, professional, and laced with just enough frost to keep him at arm’s length.

Distance was survival. Every time he got too close, my wolf stirred, restless and wild. I could feel her pacing beneath my skin, snarling at my restraint. But I didn’t care. The more she wanted him, the more I wanted to disappear. I was in the training room when he finally caught me. The metallic rhythm of blades striking against the dummy echoed through the space. Sweat ran down my spine, my focus sharp enough to cut glass.

“I thought you’d wear the floor out by now,” came his voice from the doorway - irritatingly amused.

I didn’t turn. “What do you want, Knight?”

“To see if my assassin had turned into a ghost.”

“Maybe I did.”

He stepped inside, slow and deliberate. The scent of pine and steel drifted toward me, unraveling the little control I had left.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” he said simply.

I laughed without humor. “You have a flair for stating the obvious.”

“Comes with the Alpha territory,” he said, walking closer. “Observation. Leadership. Uncanny charm.”

I spun on him, blade flashing just enough to make a point. “Stay where you are.”

He stopped, smirking. “You really think I’d hurt you?”

“No,” I said. “I think you’d talk, and that’s worse.”

He chuckled. “You keep dodging me like that, I’ll start thinking I smell bad.”

“You do,” I lied, turning back to my dummy. “Like arrogance and bad decisions.”

He was quiet for a moment, and I thought he’d finally give up.

“Tell me something,” he said, his tone dropping a notch. “Are you avoiding me because of the bond or because you liked it?”

My knife sank into the dummy’s chest. “You talk too much.”

“Only when I’m right.”

I yanked the blade free, grabbed my towel, and brushed past him. “You don’t know me.”

“Maybe not,” he said softly as I reached the door, “but I know how you looked when you kissed me back.”

That stopped me cold. I didn’t turn around. I couldn’t. If I looked at him now, I might break.

Instead, I left him standing there in the empty training room, surrounded by silence and the faint hum of a bond neither of us could shut off. The days blurred. We still worked together—barely. Every conversation was stripped down to business. Every glance felt like a spark daring me to look too long.

Knight didn’t push again. Not directly. But he was always there —in the corner of my vision, in the sound of his laugh drifting through the hall, in the heat that flared whenever our paths crossed. It was like the bond had a sense of humor. The more I ran, the stronger it pulled.

Even his Beta noticed.

One afternoon, while we went over intel on the Crow’s network, the Beta leaned over and murmured, “You two fight like old lovers.”

Knight’s grin was infuriating. “That’s because she’s still deciding whether to stab me or marry me.”

I didn’t look up from the screen. “Keep dreaming, Golden.”

His voice was a whisper, meant for me alone. “I do.”

I told myself it didn’t mean anything. It couldn’t.

That night, I found myself on the balcony. The city below was a wash of neon and shadow, humming with the kind of life I’d always watched but never joined.

The air was cool against my skin, the sky heavy with stormlight. I told myself I was out there for the silence. The space. The view. Not because his scent lingered in the walls and I needed distance to breathe.

“Thought I’d find you here,” Knight’s voice said behind me.

I stiffened. “You have terrible timing.”

“I have perfect timing.” He came to stand beside me, not too close, but close enough for the bond to hum. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

“I’ve been busy.”

He tilted his head. “Training. Research. Running laps around the city at three in the morning. You call that busy?”

I exhaled through my nose, watching the lights flicker across the skyline. “It’s called focus.”

“It’s called running from something,” he countered.

“Maybe I like running.”

“Maybe you’re scared.”

I turned then, glare sharp enough to cut. “Of what? You?”

He smiled, but it wasn’t the usual teasing grin. It was quieter. “No. Of what you feel when you’re near me.”

The words hit harder than I wanted them to. Because he wasn’t wrong.

“I don’t want this,” I whispered.

“Neither did I,” he said softly. “But fate’s not known for asking permission.”

We stood there in silence, the city’s pulse beneath us, our bond thrumming like a heartbeat that didn’t belong to either of us alone.

He took one step closer—not enough to touch, just enough for his warmth to reach me.

“You know,” he said finally, voice low, steady, certain, “the more you avoid me…” He paused, eyes locked on mine, the gold in them burning. “…the more I believe the bond is growing, Silent Blade.”

I didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Because deep down, I knew he was right.