She’d been fifteen. She’d thought Kohl had sent her on the assignment without any backup or supervision, but after the deed was done, she’d left the house of the first body to die at her hands and stepped into the alley behind it to find Kohl standing there, peering into the window.

“What?” she asked, digging her hands into her pockets. Despite the early winter bite in the air, she was still sweating and breathing hard. “You didn’t think I could do it?”

She cursed herself at how much her voice shook. Though Kohl stood in front of her, sharp eyes examining her, all she saw in her mind’s eye was the man who’d bled out under her knife. She wished Kohl would do something other than stand there. Maybe hold her or tell her she did a good job. Or at least take her to get a drink so she could forget what she’d done.

“I follow everyone on their first few jobs,” he said with a shrug. “You wouldn’t be here now if I didn’t think you could do it. I’m just making sure you did it right.”

Leaning against the wall, she let out a nervous laugh. “Sure, I can put a knife through someone, but is there really a right way to do it? I’ll do the jobs, Kohl, but after three years here, I still can’t be convinced there’s any right way.”

She’d spoken in a rush and had to take a moment to control her frantic breathing. Her eyes flicked to his face to gauge his reaction; she’d called him Kohl out loud for the first time. It was an unspoken but obvious rule in the Dom that all the young recruits called him “boss,” or “Blood King.” She’d heard the older employees call him by his name and began to imagine the day she could as well. His face was unreadable, but at least he didn’t seem angry.

“I can tell you one way you’re screwing up.” When she raised an eyebrow, he continued, “You’re standing right outside the murder scene, laughing and debating morals about the body I can see through this window. Let’s go somewhere else.”

In minutes, they returned to the Dom, and Kohl led the way to the armory without speaking. Once inside, he sat at the small wooden table in the middle of the room and began cleaning one of his pistols. Aina leaned between two racks of blades and placed her hands flat on the wall behind her to stop their shaking.

What if her target had children and they found his body first? Nausea rose through her at the thought.

“It’s hard to…” She took a deep breath. “My own parents were shot, Kohl. How can I be someone who takes away other people’s parents, their children, their friends? I know I agreed to the job, but—”

“Why would you blame the person who pulled the trigger? Blame the person who told them to do it.” He looked up at her from his task and swept his eyes over her incredulous face. “Here’s an easier way to think about it. Imagine you fall in love, and then one day you find out your handsome prince starts—”