Lexicon I

The Offer

Sunday mornings were supposed to be peaceful. For most, they were a reprieve from the usual rush of school and work—a chance to sleep in or lazily enjoy the calm of the day. But for Kinan, there was no such thing as a truly peaceful day. Her instincts never really rested, no matter how quiet her surroundings seemed.

Olav had gone for a morning run, leaving her alone in the small, modest apartment they shared. The television was on in the background, some mindless talk show she wasn't really paying attention to, while the faint hum of the refrigerator and the occasional creak of the old wooden floorboards were the only sounds breaking the stillness.

Kinan sat on the worn couch, her thoughts elsewhere. She had been replaying the last few days in her mind—Sasha's sudden appearance at school, the strange, controlled way she carried herself, the evasiveness of her answers. It didn't add up. And while Olav had kept his usual calm exterior, she knew he was just as disturbed by it as she was.

As if on cue, her phone buzzed on the coffee table, shattering the fragile quiet of the morning. Kinan picked it up, expecting a text from Olav or maybe Tejo checking in. But the message was from an unknown number. Her brow furrowed as she opened it.

*We need to talk. I'm outside.*

His pulse quickened. She stood up, moving cautiously toward the front window. Through the thin curtain, she saw a figure standing by the curb, just barely visible from this angle. The man was dressed in a sharp, black suit, his face hidden beneath the brim of a wide-brimmed hat.

Kinan's instincts kicked in. Her hand brushed against the edge of the Glock hidden beneath the coffee table, but she hesitated. Whoever this was, they had her number. And they knew where she lived. Approaching the situation aggressively could make things worse. She needed to be calm, assess the situation first.

She opened the door just enough to step outside, her eyes narrowing at the figure standing a few feet away. His presence felt out of place—too polished, too deliberate for their quiet little neighborhood. The air around him seemed to thrum with a barely contained energy, like he was waiting for something, someone.

"You must be Kinan," he said smoothly, his voice rich and deep.

"And you are?" Kinan kept her tone even, her muscles coiled, ready for anything.

The man tipped his hat slightly, revealing sharp, angular features and eyes that seemed too intense, too calculating. "You can call me Mr. N."

Kinan remained silent, her eyes scanning him for any signs of a threat. She didn't recognize him, but his name... Mr. N. It felt familiar in a way she couldn't place. Something about him stirred an old memory, buried deep beneath layers of training and survival.

"I've come to offer you and your friend a contract," Mr. N continued, completely unfazed by Kinan's cold reception. "One that I think you'll find... difficult to refuse."

"We're done with contracts," Kinan said flatly. "Olav and I aren't in that line of work anymore."

A faint smile tugged at the corner of Mr. N's lips. "I'm aware of that. But this one isn't like the others. This time, you won't be working alone. You'll be working as part of a team. And this job... it's important."

Kinan's eyes narrowed. "What kind of team?"

Mr. N's smile widened. "Your usual partner, of course. Olav. And... the Red Queen."

The name hit Kinan like a punch to the gut. Her pulse quickened, her mind racing. The Red Queen. That was a codename she hadn't heard in years. It had been whispered in mercenary circles, tied to elite operatives and shadowy missions. But she had never encountered anyone directly associated with that name.