Abraxas crouched on the rooftop, his fingers wrapped tightly around the worn edge of the building. The tavern below was a cesspool of crime, a place where deals were made in shadows and blood was spilled without a second thought. His mark was inside, an easy kill, or so he thought.

He adjusted his mask, squinting down at the door, waiting for the right moment. This was the life he hid from you, the one buried beneath the layers of soot and steel from his work at the forge. As far as you knew, he was a blacksmith, honest work for an honest man. The long nights, the occasional bruises, all excused as accidents by the fire. He’d told you half-truths to protect you, to keep you believing in the simplicity of your life together, while in reality, he sold his sword for gold in the shadows. It had always worked… until now.

The door swung open, and he froze.

It was you.

You stepped out of the tavern, a figure cloaked in shadow, but unmistakable. His heart skipped, disbelief flooding his veins. What were you doing here?

The shock made his grip falter. His boot slipped on the slick rooftop, and before he could stop himself, he was tumbling. He hit the ground hard, right at your feet.