Mrs. Lina's Home.
That's what the sign out front says—sun-bleached, crooked, and hanging from a single rusty nail. It's been that way for years. The city sees an old orphanage tucked away in one of New York's quieter corners, nothing more. But to me… it's home. Eight kids, one strange but loving family, and a woman who somehow keeps all of us stitched together.
When I opened my eyes that morning, I was greeted by the same fading blue decor of my room, the cracked walls, the peeling paint, the worn-out bunk bed I've shared with William for years. Nothing had changed—except me.
"You're finally awake, big bro."
William stood over my bed, eyes wide and brows slightly scrunched, a mix of confusion and disbelief on his face. I didn't blame him. If I woke up to see my brother wrapped in bandages like a discount mummy, I'd be confused too.
"Yeah," I muttered, pushing myself up with a controlled grunt. "Don't worry about it. Just got into a little fight yesterday."
I tried to sound casual—like I didn't get rag-dolled through a wall by a superhuman lunatic and nearly killed—but William didn't press further. He never does when I'm not ready to talk. He just nodded and went back to what he was doing, because that's the kind of kid he is.
I stepped down from my bunk and headed out of the room. The hallway was lined with old photographs—years' worth of birthdays, Christmases, school events, and messy memories. Kids smiling next to a woman with silver hair and the softest brown eyes. Mrs. Lina. My guardian. My mother in every way except blood.
I ran my fingers across one picture as I descended the stairs. My heart felt heavier with every step.
The living room was quiet except for the TV blaring some comedy show. Miss Mary sat on the couch, laughing like she didn't nearly punch a man through a car last night.
"Ohhh, Henry!" she said, turning toward me with a grin. "You're finally awake. Great—Mom's been looking for you."
Her tone was light, but my stomach instantly twisted. When Mrs. Lina "looks for me," it's usually because I've done something reckless. And, well… I definitely had. Again.
"What does she want?" I asked, trying to mask the nervous prickle creeping up my neck.
"She's waiting in the garden," Mary said, flicking off the TV and stretching. "Don't worry, she'll explain everything."
Explain everything?
That was a big statement after the night I just had.
Why was I attacked?
Why did a stranger know my name?
Why was Miss Mary… whatever the hell she was during that fight?
And how was any of this connected to Mrs. Lina?
"Smoking again?" I asked as she grabbed her cigarettes, giving her my usual smirk.
"You know nobody's gonna marry you if you keep that up," I added.
She didn't even look back—just flipped me off with her free hand. Classic Mary.
I took a steadying breath and made my way to the back garden.
The sight hit me with the same warmth it always did. A burst of color—flowers blooming in every shade possible, sunlight filtering through the leaves, the faint scent of soil and lavender. All of it a product of one woman's endless care.
And there she was.
Mrs. Lina stood amidst her flowers, wearing her white blouse and blue jeans, both stained with dirt. A bright blue apron tied around her waist. Despite her age and her work, she always looked… radiant. Grounded. Safe.
"Ahh, Henry, my son," she said the moment she saw me. Her smile was soft and warm enough to melt steel. "You're finally awake. That's good news."
The word son hit me harder than I expected. It always does. That woman could calm a hurricane just by speaking.
"Yes, Mrs. Lina," I said quietly. "I'm really sorry for the trouble I caused—"
"I assure you, it's not your fault, dear."
She said it so gently, trying to smother the guilt before it formed, but I knew better.
"No, Mrs. Lina," I said, staring down at the grass. "You're just trying to make me feel better, but… it was my fault. I got into a losing fight. I shouldn't have—"
She didn't argue. Not this time. Instead, she stepped closer and placed both hands on my shoulders. Her warmth… vanished.
"Come with me, Henry."
Her tone shifted. All gentleness dissipated like a snuffed candle. She turned and walked back toward the house, and something cold lodged itself in my gut. I followed her inside, past the empty halls. All the younger kids were at school, and I was the only graduate living here now. Only Mary, Mrs. Lina, Willam and I were home.
We stopped beneath the staircase—just a blank wooden wall.
Or so I thought.
Mrs. Lina reached into her apron pocket and pulled out a small remote. One button. Just one. She pressed it without hesitation.
The wooden wall opened.
A panel slid back, revealing a stairway leading down into darkness.
My breath stalled.
For a moment, my legs refused to move.
But she descended, and I followed.
The air grew colder the deeper we went. When we reached the bottom, a light flicked on automatically.
What I saw nearly stopped my heart.
A medium-sized room stretched before us, lined with steel walls. Racks of guns—pistols, rifles, shotguns—were organized neatly along the walls. Shelves filled with ammunition, equipment, gadgets I couldn't name. And at the far end, a massive surveillance system displaying multiple camera feeds—every angle of the house, and beyond. Miles beyond.
"What… is all this?" My voice cracked, and I hated how small it sounded. The woman I trusted most was standing in a secret underground armory with a look in her eyes I'd never seen before.
Mrs. Lina walked to a wide metal desk in the center of the room, covered in stacks of files. She picked up a single sheet of paper and turned to me.
"Let's start with this," she said.
Her voice was cold. Focused. Almost… murderous.
I took the paper with shaking hands. At first, I didn't understand what I was looking at.
Then I did.
It was a bounty poster.
Her face was printed in crisp detail—her younger self, fierce eyes, a haunting smile.
Lina Carter — Blood Granny
Affiliation: Hit Woman
Priority Tier: S+
Bounty: 2,000,000,000 USD
The numbers blurred. My fingers trembled. I slapped my hand over my mouth, feeling my heartbeat spike.
"Mrs. Lina… you… you have a bounty on your head?"
My mind scrambled for an explanation. A prank? A fake? Some twisted mafia joke? But Mrs. Lina isn't the type to create fake posters for fun. She isn't the type to lie like this. Every instinct screamed that the paper was real.
And the word Hit Woman carved itself into my skull.
My head filled with questions. Thousands of them.
Was she framed?
Was this a past life she escaped?
Was I even safe near her?
She took a deep breath.
"It's obvious you have many questions," she said quietly. "But let me say this first… everything on that paper is true."
My world cracked.
The woman who raised me, who bandaged my wounds, who scolded me, who gave me the closest thing to real family… was a killer. Not some street thug—not a simple criminal—an S+ priority assassin with a two-billion-dollar bounty.
My chest tightened. My thoughts tangled. The room felt smaller, the cold walls pressing in.
I looked up at her, searching desperately for a sign she was joking. A twitch of a smile. A hint of the warm woman I knew.
There was nothing.
Only the truth she'd been hiding all these years.
And somehow… that truth was just the beginning.