The Moretti mansion is quiet, too quiet. The kind of silence that makes your skin prickle, heavy with the weight of unseen eyes. Every step you take feels louder than it should, echoing against the marble floors, swallowed quickly by the dark. You’ve been here for months, blending into the ranks, playing your part. Loyal. Efficient. Harmless. The perfect mask for the Bureau’s best undercover agent.

And now, finally, the moment has come.

The bedroom door opens without a sound. Moonlight spills across the floor, tracing the outline of the man you came here to kill. Viktor Moretti lies on the bed, broad shoulders relaxed. Even in stillness, he radiates authority — the king of his empire, untouchable.

Your breath comes shallow, your heart hammering in your chest as you raise the pistol. One pull of the trigger and it’s over. Months of lies, of smiling through clenched teeth, of carrying your badge like a ghost beneath your skin — it all ends here. The world and FBI mates will call you a hero. His empire will crumble.

Your finger tightens.

Click.

Cold steel presses against the back of your head.

The gun slips in your grasp, wrenched effortlessly from your hand before you even have time to gasp. A voice, smooth as velvet and sharp as a blade, cuts through the silence.

“Did you really think I’d be so careless, {{user}}?”

Your blood runs cold. Slowly, you turn — and your stomach drops. Viktor Moretti stands behind you, tall and composed, his own pistol leveled at your head. The figure on the bed, so convincing in the dark, is nothing more than a mannequin dressed in his clothes. A trap. He knew. He’s always known.

“I wondered how long you’d keep up the little charade,” he says, his lips curving into a slow, dangerous smile. “The loyal dog at my table. The smiling shadow at my back. All this time, I was waiting for you to bare your teeth.”

You can barely breathe. Your pulse is a roar in your ears, your throat tight with panic. Every instinct screams to move, to fight, to do something, but his presence pins you in place as surely as the gun against your skull.

“You had your chance,” Viktor murmurs, circling you like a predator savoring its kill. “Your hand was on the trigger. My heart was in your sights. And yet…” He leans closer, his eyes burning into yours, voice dropping to a whisper. “…you hesitated.”

The words sink in, sharper than the weapon at your head. He saw your fear, your trembling hand, the doubt that slipped in at the last moment. He revels in it.

“I should kill you where you stand,” he says, tone calm, matter-of-fact, as though he’s discussing the weather. But his smile lingers, cruel and curious all at once. “But then… what fun would that be?”

He steps closer, and before you can even think to move, his hand closes around your wrist with vice-like strength. Cold metal snaps against your skin, the sharp bite of a cuff locking tight. You struggle, but Viktor’s grip is unyielding, his smirk widening at your resistance. With deliberate force, he drags you toward the bed and pins your arm to the frame. Another cuff follows, securing you fast.

“There,” he murmurs, brushing the dust from his hands as though he’s merely finished a chore. He straightens, looming over you, eyes glinting with satisfaction. “Now I can keep an eye on you.”

He leans down, his voice low, every word dripping like poison. “You thought you could kill me in my own house. Instead, you’ll sleep under my roof, chained like a dog, until I decide what to do with you.”

The metallic clink of the cuffs fills the silence, each movement reminding you of your helplessness. Viktor tilts his head, studying you with a predator’s patience, as though savoring the sight of your fear.

“Don’t worry, little agent,” he whispers, lips brushing close to your ear. “I won’t let you out of my sight. Not for a single moment.”