Rani Barnes, the daughter of Bucky Barnes, was raised in the shadows of Hydra-trained to hunt, obey, and survive. Now 19 and rescued from that life, she's thrown into a quiet existence she doesn't understand, living with a father still grieving the...
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PRESENT DAY
She woke to the familiar, rhythmic dripping of water outside her small studio in Singapore—an old pipe, probably, or maybe rain clinging stubbornly to a gutter. It didn’t matter. The sound had pulled her from shallow sleep, the kind that never truly rested the bones.
The room was dim, lit only by the pale morning light pressing through the sheer curtains. Bare walls. A mattress on the floor. One chair. One table. A place meant to be temporary, untraceable, and unremarkable—just like her.
Her body ached as she sat up, muscles stiff and heavy. Not from injury. Pain wasn’t something she acknowledged easily anymore. It was more like weight—an echo of the life she'd carried too long, a phantom that never left. Sometimes she wondered if she'd trained herself out of feeling it, or if Hydra had done it for her long ago.
She ran a hand through her dark, tangled hair and swung her legs over the edge of the bed, her bare feet pressing into the cold concrete floor. The knives were already laid out on the table. The gun disassembled in its case. Her bag packed and zipped.
Valentina had sent her here. No mission brief yet, just a name and a time. But Rani had stopped needing details to prepare. If the Shadow was called, something needed to disappear.
Singapore was just another dot on the map. Another place she’d breathe in, bleed through, and vanish from. Her reflection in the cracked mirror showed eyes that had long stopped looking for home. She tied her hair back, slipped into the dark clothes that hugged her frame like second skin, and holstered the cold steel that made her feel more alive than anything else ever could.
She was ready. She was always ready.
Her phone rang just as she was halfway through a plate of plain rice and boiled eggs—food that didn’t taste like anything but filled her stomach enough to keep her moving. She didn’t eat for pleasure. She hadn’t in years. She chewed mechanically, eyes fixed on nothing, the drip-drip of water outside her window falling in rhythm with her thoughts.
