Chapter 2 Tiffany's Assignment

Sunlight warmed Tiffany's face as she stirred from a deep, dreamless sleep. A sharp pain flared under her shoulder blade when she sat up too quickly.

"Fuck," she hissed, noticing her hand already wrapped in a linen bandage. Memories of the night before surfaced-her initiation, the seal, and the council's chants...

The ache was sharp, but it carried a strange sense of relief. She had made it. She was part of the brotherhood now.

"Morning, my girl," a familiar voice called. Startled, she turned to see her father lounging on the red couch across from her bed, a steaming cup of tea in his hand.

"P-Papa," she stammered, scrambling to her feet to kiss his cheeks. "I didn't see you there."

"Your assistant, Elizabeth, dressed your wounds and changed you into your nightgown," he said, his thick accent of Spanish heritage wrapping around the words like a blade cloaked in silk.

Having him in her room felt unnerving, as always. Their relationship had never been simple, and she could feel the weight of his presence, the way his gaze lingered on her too long. She sat back on the bed, waiting for him to speak, her eyes drifting to the handmade curtains and the sprawling cityscape visible through her window.

"Congratulations again, hija (daughter)," he said, breaking the silence.

Tiffany forced a smile. "I passed out last night. After that speech... I'm sure you're disappointed." She said in a small voice.

"It's fine," he replied, his tone measured. "Getting the seal alone is difficult enough. Does it still hurt? The burn usually lingers for days."

Tiffany touched the fresh mark, the skin still tender. "Lying would be pointless."

"Take something for the pain," he said dismissively, sipping his tea.

She rose from the bed, standing before the mirror to inspect the brand on her shoulder. The raw, angry lines glistened in the morning light.

"I like it," she said, surprising herself. "It makes me feel like I carry a part of you."

Her father stiffened at her words but quickly regained his composure. Tiffany was used to his discomfort in moments like these when her affection for him slipped through. Sometimes, she even enjoyed making him squirm. She had always wanted to match his strength-determined to challenge him yet earn his approval. It was an obsession she had secretly nurtured in her heart.

When he finished his tea, he stood and approached her, brushing a calloused thumb against her cheek. "I know how much you look up to me," he said. "And I'm proud of you, my girl."

She studied his face, noticing the new streaks of gray in his hair. For a moment, he seemed older.

"You're the spitting image of your mother," he murmured, his voice uncharacteristically gentle.

"She wouldn't approve of this," Tiffany said with a soft laugh.

"She's not here to weigh in anymore," he replied, his tone hardening as he walked to the table and retrieved a manila envelope. "You've made your choice. You're an Alpha assassin now. And because of that, I brought you something... This is your first mission."

Tiffany took the envelope eagerly, pulling out a photograph of a man in his thirties. She studied his chiseled features with a smirk. "He's good-looking," she teased. "Am I supposed to marry him?"

Her father chuckled, a rare sound. "If you'd chosen to marry one of the Alpha sons, we wouldn't have this conversation."

"Papa, you know I want to marry for love."

"You're a hopeless romantic," he said, shaking his head. "Love can still grow, even if it isn't there initially."

"Oh, spare me, Papa," she shot back, rolling her eyes. "So, who is he really?"

Her father's tone turned serious. "He's a threat... both to our business and to the brotherhood. This man is an assassin who is skilled at hiding. It took us years to track him down until we finally did. Now, it's your job to eliminate him for us."

Tiffany's pulse quickened. "And when I succeeded?"

"Bring his body to the council. Serve his head on a platter. Do that, and you'll take my place in the brotherhood."

She grinned. "Consider it done."

"Failure is not an option," he said gravely. "You have too much to prove and everything to lose."

"I don't fail, Papa. You know that."

"Everything you need is in that envelope," he said, heading for the door. "Study it. Then get packed."

The sudden urgency caught her off guard.

"You leave tonight for Southern Isla, in the Visayas. First, eat breakfast. Then prepare yourself."

With that, he exited, the door clicking shut behind him.

Once alone, Tiffany stared at the photograph again. The man's dark eyes seemed to look right through her. She sighed, muttering, "Poor bastard. The Alphas have already decided your fate... and mine."

Her gaze shifted to the window, the bustling city below a sharp contrast to the stillness in her room. Thoughts of her mother crept in. She wouldn't have wanted this life for Tiffany, but her father was right-she wasn't here anymore.

Tiffany folded the photograph carefully and tucked it back into the envelope. Whatever her doubts, one truth remained: she would do whatever it took to survive this mission.