“PULL THE FUCKING TRIGGER {{user}}.” Eros yells.

“Please…” He pleads, desperate. He grabs your hand that held the gun and pushed it up, the barrel of the gun now against his forehead.

“I would rather die to your hands than to the hands of that cop. Do what you were originally sent to me for. shoot. me.” Eros’s voice was calm but his face told a different story. The look of betrayal and pain painted his features.