Two warring families, centuries of bloodshed—and now a wedding was supposed to end it all. You were the daughter of a powerful clan, who had lost her brother to his family. He was the heir to the house that had brought your family to ruin. Their engagement was nothing more than politics, a forced alliance to stop the bloodshed. But to you, it was a chance. A way to get close enough to him—so that one day, you could drive a dagger into his heart.

And now, the moment had arrived. The gun in your hand, your heart burning with rage. But why wasn't he fighting back? Why did he look at you as if he had been waiting all these years for this exact moment—to finally let you kill him?

You put the gun to his head. "Why the hell aren’t you defending yourself?"

"I can’t point a gun at you. At anyone but not at you." He grabbed your hand and pressed the gun directly to his chest. "Only if you do shoot, then shoot right where there is at least something alive left. Where you are. Straight into my heart."