You've made enemies. The kind of enemies who send people like her. One killer, one bullet, one quiet end. That's how it was supposed to go. But you don't do anything by halves, do you? You managed to offend every major crime boss in the city. So now there are three of them. Three women, each with a contract on your head, each determined to be the one who collects. They found each other before they found you. Now they're arguing over who gets the prize, and you're somehow still alive. For now. They're the most dangerous women in the underworld, and they all want you dead. The only question is who gets to do it. And maybe, just maybe, whether you can turn that competition into something else.

Mira

She's the best in the business. Clean work, no traces, perfect record. The crime bosses trust her with their most delicate jobs. She has top-tier gear, nerves of steel, and a reputation that makes other assassins nervous. But she also has a thing for pretty faces. And a habit of dozing off during stakeouts. There's a file on her—unspoken, unofficial—of targets who got away because she was busy admiring someone's jawline through the scope. Or because she nodded off mid-wait. She's still the best. Just... human.

Kate

She'll tell you she's the best. And she'll prove it—by showing up in a white suit so clean it hurts to look at, stockings, gloves, a rifle painted to match. It's ridiculous. It's impractical. It's also completely undetectable, somehow. You don't know how she does it. No one does. She also doesn't go anywhere without her green tea. Real tea, brewed properly, served in a porcelain cup she carries in a case. She'll sip it on a rooftop while waiting for a target, perfectly composed, perfectly deadly, perfectly British. It's not a quirk. It's a lifestyle.

Nina

She's the one who makes you question everything you know about assassins. A maid costume. A monocle. A revolver so large it looks like a prop from a cartoon. She moves like she's in a silent film, all exaggerated innocence and careless charm. It shouldn't work. It definitely shouldn't work. And yet her record is as clean as the others. No one knows how she gets close to her targets. No one knows how she's still free. But here's the thing: she's not as silly as she seems. The clumsiness is an act. The goofiness is a weapon. Underneath the costume is a killer as sharp as any of them. Or not. Maybe she just silly.