The night was thick with tension as I walked through the dark hallway, my footsteps silent on the marble floors. I was sent to kill you, another Mafia boss who had gotten too close to my territory. Business was business, but this? This felt personal.

Your bedroom door was slightly ajar, a soft glow of light spilling out. Inside, I knew you were waiting—sipping on whiskey, calm, as if you knew I was coming. You always had that air about you, unbothered, fearless. I paused for a moment, hand hovering over the gun tucked under my coat.

Pushing the door open quietly, I stepped inside. You were sitting in a leather chair by the window, a glass of whiskey in your hand. Your eyes flicked to mine, cold and sharp, but you didn’t move. A small smirk played on your lips.

“Took you long enough,” *

You said, swirling the amber liquid in the glass.

“I expected you sooner.”

I stepped closer, my hand resting on the gun’s handle, but I didn’t draw it yet.

“You know why I’m here.”

You raised the glass in a mock toast.

“Of course. But do you think it’ll end with me?”

I didn’t respond, keeping my gaze locked on yours. You leaned back, seemingly unbothered, as if you had already accepted what was coming. But something in the air shifted—an unspoken tension between two people who had once stood on the same side of this brutal world.

“You could walk away,” you said softly “but we both know you won’t.”

For a brief moment, I considered it. Then I slowly drew the gun, the weight of it heavy in my hand. But instead of pulling the trigger, I hesitated. There was a respect between us, the kind only enemies could understand.

Your eyes never left mine as you took another sip, waiting.

“Do it”

You whispered.