Chapter 3

I staggered back, trying to process what he had just said. “An assassin? That can’t be true.”

He nodded solemnly. “It’s true. Your father led a double life. He kept it hidden to protect you and your mother. But his enemies found out, and that’s why your parents were killed.”

I sank onto the couch, my mind racing. “So, all those times we moved, all the secrecy—it was because of his job?”

“Yes,” he confirmed. “Your father was one of the best, but that life comes with dangerous enemies.”

I looked at him, still skeptical. “Why are you telling me this now? Where have you been all this time?”

“I’ve been keeping an eye on you from a distance,” he said. “Your father wanted it that way. He didn’t want you to know unless it was absolutely necessary. But now, with him gone, it’s my responsibility to protect you.”

I felt a mix of emotions—shock, anger, confusion. “How do I even know you’re telling the truth?”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, worn-out photograph of my father with him, both younger, smiling and holding up what looked like a fishing trophy. “This was taken years ago. Your father trusted me. He knew this day might come.”

I took the photo, studying it closely. It was indeed my father, looking happy and relaxed, something I rarely saw growing up. “Why didn’t he ever tell me?” I whispered.

“To keep you safe,” my uncle said gently. “The less you knew, the safer you were. But now, you need to know the truth to protect yourself.”

I looked up at him, determination hardening my gaze. “What do I need to do?”

He sighed, the weight of responsibility evident in his eyes. “First, you need to learn how to defend yourself. We have to get you out of here and somewhere safe. Then, I’ll teach you everything your father wanted you to know.”

I nodded, a new resolve forming within me. My parents’ deaths had left a void, but now I had a purpose. I would uncover the truth and make sure their sacrifices were not in vain.

Ever since that day, my uncle had been training me mercilessly, always reminding me that there were dangerous things out there, and I had to be ready to fight for myself.

It’s been two years since I started training with my uncle, days and nights without stopping. He kept telling me more about my father’s life, how he was the best assassin, and how he managed to eradicate most of the top dangerous mafias.

I was in the backyard, learning how to fight with a sword, when I heard a scream coming from inside the house. “Uncle,” I muttered, breathing heavily before gripping the sword tightly as I made my way slowly inside, preparing for whatever I might encounter.

“Uncle,” I called out again as I slowly entered the house. Everywhere was dark. I pointed the sword in front of me, ready to defend myself against any danger.

I heard footsteps approaching, and just as I was about to strike, the lights flicked on. “Easy,” my uncle chuckled, deftly evading my sword swing. His gentle laugh made it seem like I hadn’t been ready to slice him to pieces.

“What’s going on?” I asked, noticing the cake in his hands and the small balloons and decorations around the room.

“You totally forgot, didn’t you?” My uncle grinned, setting the cake down on the table.

“It’s your birthday, you silly girl,” he announced, showering me with confetti.

The realization hit me hard—it had been two years since my parents’ death, two years since I lost my joy in life, and I hadn’t spoken to my best friend Susan since that day.

“Come, my dear, make a wish,” my uncle said, lighting the candle on the cake.

I approached him slowly and leaned over the cake. “I only wish for one thing,” I declared aloud, with my uncle watching intently. “For my parents’ murderers to be brought to justice,” I said before blowing out the candle. My uncle’s expression was a mix of emotions before he cheered me on, shaking off his initial reaction.

I smiled at him as I cut the cake and fed him a piece. I was grateful he remembered my birthday, something he had done diligently for the past two years. But this time, it felt different; my parents weren’t the ones waking me with birthday wishes. The thought of them almost brought tears to my eyes, but I knew I had to stay strong for their sake.

“I’m going to bed,” I told my uncle, sensing he wanted to say more but holding back.

Weeks passed since my birthday, and my training intensified under my uncle’s relentless pushing. It felt as though something ominous loomed ahead.

“I’m tired,” I said, dropping the pickaxe I had been using on the practice dummies.

“You don’t understand, Riley. You have to keep training if you want to survive,” my uncle insisted, his voice rising.

This version maintains the narrative flow while enhancing clarity and emotional impact.

I couldn’t bear the sound of his raised voice; I’d always hated being yelled at. “Survive from what exactly?” I yelled back, catching him off guard.

“Day and night, you keep telling me to train, that someone’s coming for me, that I have to protect myself,” I ranted, tears now streaming down my face as my uncle stared at me. “I’m tired of all this nonsense. I lost my parents only to find out my father was an assassin. Now I’m being forced to train for something I know nothing about. How is it my fault that my father chose such a dangerous profession?”

“I just want my life back—the normal life I always had,” I sobbed, tears flowing freely now.

“You can’t have a normal life with those people out there,” my uncle finally said.

“What people?” I demanded.

“It’s not time for you to know,” my uncle said, making me clench my fists in anger.

“Enough!” I yelled, delivering a roundhouse kick to a dummy, sending its head flying off its body. My uncle’s eyes widened at my agility.

“You need to tell me what’s coming now,” I demanded.

He remained silent, ignoring me. I scoffed, about to walk out, when he finally spoke. “The Evil Triplets,” he uttered, causing me to stop in my tracks.

“The what?” I asked, bewildered.

Uncle started pacing. “One of your father’s victims was Roger, the most powerful and ruthless mafia boss in the underground world,” he explained, and the mention of that name sent chills down my spine.

“He had three triplet sons whom he groomed to be as evil as him. Your father spared them when he took down Roger,” my uncle continued. “Though I wanted him to eliminate those triplets, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Now they’re determined to wipe out our bloodline,” he finished, disgust evident in his eyes.

My eyes widened in disbelief. “Wait, you are…” I started to say.

“An assassin too,” my uncle finished my sentence, his voice calm yet carrying the weight of truth. Suddenly, pieces began to fall into place. My father wasn’t just a victim; he was also a killer. “So my father was a killer,” I murmured, struggling to reconcile this new revelation with the memories of the loving parent I had lost.

“He only targeted bad people,” my uncle countered defensively.

“That still doesn’t change anything,” I replied bitterly. “In the end, he took lives.”

“In the world of crime, it’s either kill or be killed,” my uncle said, his tone grave. “You’ll come to understand that soon enough.”

With that, he turned and walked away, leaving me alone to wrestle with his words and the turbulent emotions swirling inside me. In the days that followed, my anger toward my uncle grew, and I found myself unable to continue my training. Instead, I sought solace in the dimly lit corners of a bar, drowning my confusion and pain in alcohol.

One night, as I sat nursing my drink, my phone buzzed with a notification. Glancing at the screen, I saw it was already 10 PM. “Uncle must be worried,” I muttered to myself, steeling my resolve to leave. I paid for my drinks and stepped out onto the quiet, deserted street. The night air was cool and unsettlingly quiet, broken only by the distant sounds of the city.

As I walked down the street, the night air thick with tension, a chilling plea for mercy cut through the silence. “Please spare my life,” the voice begged, faint and desperate. I followed the sound cautiously, my heart pounding with both fear and curiosity.

I approached quietly, careful not to alert whoever was causing the disturbance. Ahead, a van was parked haphazardly, its doors wide open. Peering closer, I saw a man on the ground, blood trickling from his nose, surrounded by several men. Only two of them wore masks; the rest were bare-faced, their cold expressions revealing their intent.

“Please, I’ll give you anything, just don’t kill me,” the man whimpered, his voice trembling with fear. My breath caught in my throat as I realized the severity of the situation unfolding before me.

“Why do people beg when it’s time for them to pay for their sins, huh?” one of the masked men sneered, running a finger along the barrel of his gun as he towered over the helpless figure.

“Because they’re pathetic,” the other masked man chuckled darkly, his laughter echoing eerily in the quiet street, sending shivers down my spine.

“Hey, brother, would you like to do the honors?” the first masked man asked casually, gesturing towards the trembling victim.

My mind raced. Should I intervene? Fear and uncertainty held me in place.

"With pleasure," he said, and then he shot the man in the head. The man fell to the ground lifeless, blood pooling around him. Blood splash on his mask "Gosh, eww," the other guy remarked, taking off his mask to reveal his face.

I couldn't see his face clearly because my attention was fixed on the grisly scene unfolding before me.

"Oh my goodness," I blurted out loudly, causing both of them to turn towards me.

"Hey," the unmasked man said, waving his gun in my direction. I couldn't see his expression well, but I had a feeling he was smiling.

I knew I had to escape. Just as I was about to run, I heard a gun cock behind me, and I felt something cold against the back of my head. I turned slowly to see another masked man looking at me, his gun pointed directly at me.

"Move," he commanded, shoving me towards the scene. As I walked slowly towards the other two masked men, one of them muttered, "Oh no, why do we always have to kill the pretty ones?"

A chill shot down my spine. What did he mean by kill? I knew I was in serious trouble. The man behind me pushed me to the ground, and I let out a small yelp. He squatted down in front of me, his gaze unsettlingly calm.

"So, what's your name, pretty?" he asked, his tone unsettlingly casual. I begged him, "I promise I didn't see anything, please let me go."

"Well, it's too late for that now, since you've already seen us," he replied coldly.

"Just you," I blurted out, summoning whatever courage I had left. I knew it was risky, but he was the only one I had seen clearly.

He chuckled, his handsome face contorting into something sinister whenever he stopped laughing. "Seeing one of us is like seeing all of us," he said cryptically, and with that, the other two men removed their masks, revealing identical faces.

A sense of impending danger washed over me as I realized the three of them were identical triplets.

"Goodnight," one of them said ominously, and then everything went black as I felt a sharp pain on my head.