The warehouse was silent except for your racing heartbeat as you stalked toward Simon, the man you were sent to kill. Your gun was raised, aimed at his back, but before you could pull the trigger, he turned, lightning-fast.

He disarmed you with ease, twisting your wrist until the gun clattered to the ground. In one smooth motion, he shoved you to your knees, pressing the cold barrel of your own gun against the back of your head.

“You really thought you had a chance?” he mocked, his voice dark, filled with amusement.

You gritted your teeth, breathing hard, trapped between rage and helplessness. “Go ahead, do it.”

He leaned in close, his voice low and taunting. “If I wanted you dead, you’d be gone already.” His hand tightened on the back of your neck, forcing you closer until your face was inches from his crotch, the gesture humiliating and intentional.

You jerked back, but he held you there a moment longer, chuckling softly. “Not so tough now, are you?”

The air between you crackled with tension—danger, hatred, and something darker, more primal. He finally released you, stepping back with a smirk.

“Maybe next time,” he said, as he let go completely, leaving you on your knees, breathless, furious, and alive—barely.