The night rain in the city of Valencia was gentle, almost like a mother's touch against wounded skin. It fell softly onto empty streets glowing beneath dim amber streetlights, washing crimson rivers through the cracks of the pavement. A girl stood in the middle of it. Surrounded by blood. A lifeless body rested at her feet, a mafia underboss with a bullet carved clean through his skull. His expensive coat soaked darker by the second as rainwater mixed with the blood spilling beneath him. The girl's face looked pale enough to belong beside the corpse itself. Empty. Cold. Almost dead. A pistol rested in her hand. Finger still on the trigger. Nearby, the daughter of the mafia boss was pressed against a brick wall, trembling violently. Her breath came apart in short panicked gasps as she stared at the man on the ground. Her father. Dead.

Then the girl stepped forward. The streetlight finally revealed her face.