The Red Room was silent.

Hundreds of girls stood in the grand training hall, their backs straight, their hands clasped behind them in disciplined formation. They knew better than to speak.

The air was thick with tension.

At the front of the room, three girls knelt on the cold stone floor. Their wrists were bound behind them, their chins stubbornly lifted despite the bruises on their faces.

They had been disobedient. They had questioned orders.

And now, they would pay the price.

—

The heavy doors at the far end of the hall swung open.

A shadow stepped inside.

Not just any shadow.

The Shadow.

She moved with slow, deliberate steps, her long black coat flowing behind her. She did not need to speak. She did not need to make an announcement.

The mere sight of her was enough.

All around the room, the girls lowered their heads.

A sign of respect. A sign of fear.

Except for the three kneeling at the front.

Their defiance had been strong enough to break past the fear.

But now, as The Shadow approached, their confidence wavered.

Their grins faded.

—

The Shadow stopped in front of them.

She stared down at them, her expression unreadable.

The girls stared back, their breathing uneven.

Behind them, one of the Widow trainers—their overseer—watched with cold, expectant eyes. He had already decided their fate.

They had crossed the line.

And there was only one punishment for that.

—

The Shadow knelt, bringing herself level with the girls.

She studied them, her sharp gaze lingering on each one.

They were young. Maybe fourteen. Maybe younger.

They had been trained to kill, to survive, to obey.

But something in them had cracked.

And now, they were here.

"Do you understand why you are here?" The Shadow's voice was quiet, steady.

One of the girls swallowed hard.

The second clenched her jaw.

The third—the boldest of them—spoke.

"Because we are not afraid of you."

A murmur rippled through the room.

The other Widows did not dare look up, but their bodies were tense.

The Shadow did not react.

She simply tilted her head.

Then, she reached forward.

With a slow, deliberate motion, she placed a gloved hand beneath the bold girl's chin, tilting it upward.

Their eyes met.

For a single moment, The Shadow saw something familiar in the girl's gaze.

Something fierce.

Something that had once burned inside her.

A long time ago.

Before Hydra.

Before the Red Room.

Before she had become what she was now.

But the past did not matter.

Only the lesson did.

The Shadow released the girl's chin and stood.

Then, without hesitation, she pulled a pistol from her belt—

—and shot the first girl between the eyes.

A sharp gasp echoed through the hall as the body collapsed to the floor.

The second girl flinched, but she did not beg.

The Shadow fired again.

Another body fell.

Only one remained.

The bold one.

The one who had dared to speak.

She was trembling now, her breath coming in short, uneven gasps.

But she still held The Shadow's gaze.

There was no defiance left.

Only the slow, dawning realization of what was about to happen.

The Shadow pressed the barrel of the gun against her forehead.

For a brief second, she hesitated.

A flicker of something—something she did not recognize, something that did not belong inside her—passed through her chest.

Then she pulled the trigger.

The girl slumped forward, lifeless.

—

The hall remained silent.

The lesson had been taught.

The other Widows did not move.

They did not dare.

The Shadow turned, stepping over the bodies without a second glance.

As she walked past the rows of kneeling girls, she saw their shoulders tense, their heads bowed lower.

Good.

Fear kept them in line.

Fear made them obedient.

The doors opened once more, and The Shadow disappeared into the darkness.

Her task was done.

And the Red Room remained unbreakable.