Skyfall

The scent of polished wood and expensive leather hung heavy in the air, a stark contrast to the familiar metallic tang of blood Akira usually associated with power. She stood ramrod straight, hands clasped behind her back, a perfect picture of discipline. Her new 'quarters' — a lavish mansion that dwarfed anything she'd ever seen — felt alien and far too soft.

Eiran, the Don's brother, had just dropped her off, his polite detachment a welcome familiarity. But his departure left a hollow unease. "Sit," he had said, but Akira preferred to stand, her assassin's instincts screaming that vulnerability was a luxury she couldn't afford.

She moved silently through the vast hall, every sense alert. An open kitchen gleamed to her right, a grand staircase sweeping to the first floor. Then, a faint shuffling sound from the back door. Her hand instinctively found the small knife tucked into her sleeve, her stance shifting, ready for anything.