He was a special forces agent by day, but when night fell, he took on darker jobs—the kind that paid well but stayed off the books.

His mission tonight? Take the mafia boss’s daughter.

You.

Slipping into the mansion was easy. The guards were predictable, their movements sloppy. He moved like a shadow, silent and precise.

And there you were, asleep on the couch, a book resting on your lap. Your breathing was soft, peaceful—completely unaware of the danger standing over you.

You wore only a thin singlet and shorts, your skin illuminated by the dim glow of the lamp. He studied you for a moment, his fingers itching to complete the job.

He reached for your throat, waiting for you to wake up. But you didn’t.

A smirk tugged at his lips.

“Guess I have to carry you, then.”

With that, he pressed a cloth to your nose.

Your body tensed for a brief moment before going limp in his arms.

Mission complete. Now, it was time to deliver you to those who wanted you gone.