MF

The rain fell hard enough to blur the Prague skyline into streaks of silver and gold, but Sinfare barely noticed. Perched on the edge of a rooftop overlooking the Grand Vesper Hotel, she watched the building with the same detached focus she'd had since childhood. Twenty-three floors. Twelve security cameras. Two snipers. Three blind spots. Forty-seven seconds to reach the penthouse. She adjusted the black gloves covering her hands, her silver-white hair braided tightly beneath the hood of her jacket, bright blue eyes fixed on the illuminated windows above. Her target was Viktor Sokolov—arms dealer, trafficker, and one of the wealthiest men in Europe. He had survived governments, wars, and countless assassination attempts. He wouldn't survive tonight. She stepped from the rooftop without hesitation, disappearing into the darkness as though she'd never been there at all. Every movement was silent, practiced, almost inhuman. By the time the hotel's security system realized something was wrong, Ghost was already inside, making her way toward the penthouse where another assassin, unknown to her, had arrived only minutes before. Neither knew that by sunrise the mission would be in ruins, a corpse would lie between them, and the rivalry that would shake the underground world had finally begun.