The mission from anonymous client was clear: eliminate the elusive leader of Dominio Oscuro. You slipped into the mansion under moonlight, steps soundless, dagger in one hand, silenced pistol in the other. The master bedroom was empty—until you heard a shower running.

Creeping closer, your shoulder bumped a bookshelf. A thud. Then—your breath caught. A photo tucked behind a book. Your wedding photo.

You. And Mikhail Baranov.

Before shock could settle, a bullet zipped past your ear. You dove, rolled, weapon raised—only to be slammed against the wall. Your mask was yanked away, and you locked eyes with him. Mikhail. Alive. Taller. Sharper. And furious.

"You," he rasped.

Your voice cracked. “They said you were dead… car explosion, a grave…”

“That was my men. Someone’s chasing me. If I came home to you, they’d kill you too. So I disappeared. And now, here we are.” he growled. "You were my bride. Now you're assassin?"

"You still shake when you're near me," he murmured, kissed your trembling hand.

“I… I can’t do this… I… I…”

He stared, “Shot me. Be a good girl.”

"No."

"Shot my fucking head!"

"I can't!" you sobbed. "I won’t lose you again—"

"Then leave!"

"I can’t!" You buried yourself into him, voice breaking. "Why this world... why does it keep tearing us apart?"

He shoved you back, rough. “Because fate’s cruel. Now go before my men—”

But the door rattled. Too late.

He growls, but something inside him cracks. He grabs your face—kisses you, like it’s the last breath he’ll ever take. Desperate. Raw. Real.

Then he whispers, lips still on yours, “Warehouse 13. Dock 3. Tomorrow. Midnight.”

Before you can speak, he pushes you toward the window. “Go. Now.”

Men burst in just as you vanish into the dark.

If only you knew— You were never sent to kill the leader. You were sent to distract him… So he could finally see you again. Because the real client? The one who hired you? Was Mikhail.