Transmigrated: I Became My Nemesis's Woman

[Flashback]

Raven moved with quiet precision, preparing for the mission ahead.

Thanks to her coordinator—and one of the very few people she trusted—Sal, she had everything she needed. The intel, the timing, the location.

"Fifteen minutes," Sal’s voice came through her earpiece. "You hit the target and clear the area. No delays."

Raven didn’t respond immediately.

She was already in motion.

Slipping through the emergency entrance of the building opposite Globe International, she made her way up to the top floor, her footsteps silent, calculated.

"Where is he now?" she asked, pressing the Bluetooth in her ear as she assembled her sniper with practiced ease.

This was supposed to be just another mission.

Except— it wasn’t. This one would be her last.

After this, she would walk away from the bloodshed she had buried herself in for years.

Sal’s fingers flew across the keyboard as he hacked into the surveillance system.

"I’ve got eyes on him," he said. "West wing. His office."

Raven adjusted the scope, her gaze narrowing as she scanned the towering glass structure across from her.

And then, she found him.

Xander.

Clear. Still. Unaware.

Her finger rested lightly near the trigger. But then the very next second her brows furrowed.

"You said he was alone," she said, her voice low. "Then who is that woman with him?"

Inside the office, a figure sat across from Xander.

Unidentified. Unexpected.

Sal hesitated. "He cleared his evening schedule... maybe it’s a private meeting."

Raven didn’t like it. Variables complicated things. And complications got people killed.

"I think we should wait," she murmured, still watching through the scope.

After all, a clean shot required certainty.

Inside the office, Xander moved calmly, speaking to the woman—completely unaware of the crosshairs settling over him.

Seconds ticked by. Then suddenly she heard Sal curse.

"Damn it."

Raven’s focus didn’t waver. "What?" but confusion laced her voice.

She hated distraction, and Sal being the one annoying her was the last thing she wanted.

"Why are there armed men entering the building?" His voice came out of worry. "Combat gear... multiple units."

Raven’s eyes flickered.

Something was wrong. Very wrong.

Sal was very particular about his work, and he would never bring her into a place without thoroughly inspecting everything.

Then what was he saying

"Raven—listen to me," Sal said urgently. "You need to leave. Now."

Her grip on the rifle tightened.

"What are you talking about?"

"I think t-they’ve found you," Sal snapped. "Xander’s assistant—he tracked your position."

That— that was impossible.

"How?" Raven demanded. "You said he was stationed outside the office."

"He was," Sal replied, frustration creeping into his tone. "But now he’s not!"

A beat passed, leaving both Raven and Sal in alertness.

"Raven, they’re moving toward your building. You need to get out. Use the west-side emergency exit—it’ll take you to the kitchen area. You can slip out from there," Sal instructed.

Raven’s jaw clenched.

Retreat? Now? After everything?

"No," her voice came out sharp and unyeilding.

Sal froze. "What?"

"This mission..." her voice dropped, steady but firm, "is my way out."

Silence filled the line.

"If I walk away now," she continued, her eyes locking back onto her target, "then I lose my only chance at freedom."

"Raven—this isn’t worth your life!" Sal shouted.

But she had already made her decision.

For years, she had stained her hands with blood.

One last mission—that was all she needed to get out from the place.

Raven adjusted her stance, steadying her breathing. The world narrowed. The chaos, voices, and everything faded. Until there was only the target.

Her finger curled around the trigger. "One shot..." she whispered.

Sal, who was watching every gape, watched the movement. And then, she fired.

BANG!

Raven thought it was her, but in that exact same moment another shot rang out.

BANG!

A bullet tore through the air, not toward Xander. But toward her.

Raven’s eyes widened. The shot had landed, but not on Xander.

On the woman.

For a split second, her mind blanked.

Damn it.

But before she could process it— gunfire erupted.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Bullets tore through the space around her, shattering glass and concrete.

Raven reacted on instinct. She dropped and rolled, narrowly dodging the incoming firing rained down around her.

"Raven, can you hear me?! Run from there and meet me at our spot." Sal’s voice echoed frantically through her earpiece.

Another gunshot rang out—louder, closer—cutting through the line.

Sal froze on the other end, his heart pounding.

"Raven?!" he called, but to his dismay, there was no response.

***

Back on the rooftop, Raven moved fast. Her only instinct now was survival.

She grabbed her rifle and sprinted toward the exit, her body running on pure adrenaline. Another round of bullets chased her, one grazing past her shoulder as she ducked behind the wall.

Without stopping, she pushed through the west-side door and slammed it shut behind her, locking it from the inside.

For a brief second, silence engulfed her.

Her chest rose and fell rapidly as she tried to steady herself, her senses still on high alert.

"Sal..." she called, reaching for her earpiece. But then realization hit her.

"Shit, I dropped it."

Raven had never felt this disoriented before. Now that she was being hunted, she knew she had to escape at any cost.

Instead of dwelling on what had happened, she forced herself to focus and followed Sal’s earlier instructions.

She had to reach their hideout before they caught her.

However, no matter how precisely she moved, she was eventually caught. The only difference was that, by then, her desire to be saved was gone.

[Present]

Ivy recalled the events of that night, Sal’s words still echoing in her mind.

"Meet me at our spot," she repeated absentmindedly, until a childlike voice snapped her out of her thoughts.

"Mommy, I am ready."

Leo came running toward her and climbed onto the bed, eager for the bedtime story she had promised earlier.

Ivy smiled as she watched him. They both lay down, pulling the duvet up to their chests.

She had made him a promise, but she could barely remember any stories.

Growing up, she had never been lulled to sleep with gentle words or comforting tales. The man who took her in, her godfather, had placed a gun in her hands instead, training her like the rest of his men and shaping her into exactly what he wanted her to be.

Now, as she looked into the boy’s hopeful eyes, her heart began to race.