Addicted To My Genius Assassin Wife

Chapter 6 6

Word Count: 677 | Released on: 21/03/2026

ella

asterpiece of distraction. Crystal chandeliers, the heavy scent of contraband bourbon, and expensive F

found floating in the East River. A "stupid shootout," they called it. I sipped my champagne, hiding a smirk behind t

ed the bar. His face was an unreadable mask as he slid a leather-bound drink menu across the p

it was a flawless succ

of peace was over. A real war had begun, and I needed

moment I stepped into Alistair Kirkland's

o-ceiling windows displayed a city Alistair believed he owned. He sat at the head

" he asked, his voice smooth and d

e he expected me to be. "Only that the jazz bands are getting l

hosts. "Perhaps it's time we find you a man who isn't dull. A powerful family in Chicago is very in

orcing a dramatic, annoyed sigh, but inside, my blood ran cold. This was his ultimate leash.

ago followed me in

knock. The man who walked in brought the stench of raw meat, copper, and pure violence w

he independent warlord of Ch

sale," Gus rumbled, his massive frame dwarfing the delica

mily. He leaned forward, a predator negotiating a kill. "Tell Kirklan

ng, giving him my most devastating, unbothered smile. "In this city, Mr. Camacho, the highest

nd that vibrated in my chest, bef

air's paranoia was pushing him to tighten his grip on every single resource in this city, from alliances to the v

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“My entire family was slaughtered three years ago by Alistair Kirkland, the usurper who stole the underworld throne. I was the only survivor. Smuggled out of New York as a child, I was trained in the shadows to become a flawless weapon. Now, at sixteen, I returned to the city that was supposed to be my graveyard. But the New York I returned to was a suffocating cage. Kirkland didn't just wipe out the Valenzuela bloodline; he branded my few surviving loyalists as traitors. He paraded my men down the streets in heavy iron chains, letting the very people we once protected hurl rocks at them. He bought the doctors, ensuring my wounded soldiers would bleed out in the dark. Even worse, the mother of my only ally-Julian Morgan-secretly sold us out to a Chicago warlord just to keep her archaic grip on power. I stood in the shadows, watching an eleven-year-old boy get his head smashed with a jagged stone just for defending his father's honor. How could the city my grandfather built cheer for our extermination? Why did the old guard prefer to cower and die in the dark rather than fight the monster who stole our home? "Ghosts don't knock on my door, Athena. What do you want?" Julian asked me. I tossed a blood-stained ledger of Kirkland's deepest secrets onto his desk. "I'm here to help you take back what's yours, and burn Alistair Kirkland's empire to the ground."”