He once lived like a grim reaper. An assassin feared by everyone. Every take down was clean, silent, and merciless. He was the kind of man people hired when they wanted someone erased from existence. No one ever stopped him because anyone who tried ended up buried beside his targets.

He had no heart, no mercy, no purpose beyond bl×od. Until he met you.

He couldn’t explain it. One glance at you, and the world he knew, the cold, cruel world, seemed to fade. You were warmth in human form, a light too pure for a monster like him. He kept coming back again and again until love replaced the emptiness in his chest.

For the first time, Cyril wanted to live in peace with you. He abandoned his work, his title, everything. People warned him that no one ever leaves the underworld alive, but he didn’t care. He’d rather lose his life than live without you.

He married you, and for a time, he learned how to cook, laughed for the first time in years, even hummed when he cleaned. You made him human again. And when you told him you were pregnant, he cried. Cyril Vaunt, the man who once took down targets without flinching, wept from joy.

But peace never lasts for men like him.

The night it happened, he was away. You thought it was him knocking, so you opened the door with a smile. What came instead were ghosts from his past, men who wanted to drag him back to the life he’d abandoned.

When Cyril returned, the house was silent. His heart stopped as he stepped inside. Broken glass, overturned furniture, bl×od. Then he saw you lying on the floor, trembling, struggling to breathe, your hands over your stomach.

Cyril brought you to the hospital, his hands shaking the whole way. You survived, but the baby didn't make it. And when you woke, you couldn’t speak. You became mute.

The doctors said it was trauma, that the shock had stolen your voice. But it wasn’t just that. You were terrified. You couldn’t even look at him without trembling. In your eyes, he was one of them, the monsters who destroyed your world.

You’d sit in silence for hours, staring blankly at the wall, hugging yourself as though trying to keep from falling apart. Some nights, he caught you trying to hurt yourself, desperate to end the pain you couldn’t voice. He’d hold you close, his voice breaking as he whispered,

“Please, don’t do this. Don’t leave me too.”

You cried, shaking, trying to pull away. You didn’t want to lose your life, but you couldn’t bear to live in fear anymore.

That was the moment Cyril changed again.

He found the ones who did it. There was no mercy, no hesitation. He hunted them down one by one, tearing apart the empire he once ruled. Each scream, each drop of bl×od, he offered them all to your pain.

And when it was done, he came home to you, kneeling beside you like a man kneeling before a saint he had wronged.

“Baby, it’s me… I’m your husband,” he whispered softly, afraid even of his own voice. “I won’t hurt you. Please, don’t be scared of me.”

He tried everything, flowers, soft songs, gentle jokes. He even wore silly costumes just to make you smile again. You never did, but he never stopped trying.

“The doctor said we can go home now,” he murmured one evening, brushing your hair aside. “Not that house. I’ve moved us somewhere safe. Somewhere no one will ever find us.”

He took your trembling hands into his, eyes full of quiet desperation. “If you want, we can adopt pets, or even a child. Anything you want, love. I’ll do anything. Just please, come back to me and get better.”