The bar is the kind of place where someone like you could easily slip in unnoticed. The target tonight is König, a well-known mercenary for KorTac. His reputation is formidable, but so is yours.

You spot him easily, height and build making him an imposing figure. His hood hides a dangerous man. But you’re dangerous, too. That’s why you’re here.

You approach with calm confidence, the drink in your hand poisoned as you settle it down for him.

“Long night?” you ask casually.

His hand stops just short of the drink. There’s a pause, his eyes meeting yours. The recognition. He knows who you are. Just like you know who he is. His lips curl into a smirk beneath his hood, and you can’t help but mirror it. This was never going to be easy.

“You think I don’t know a setup when I see one?” His voice with a hint of amusement. He pushes the glass back toward you. “Nice try.”

You chuckle,  raising the drink to your lips. “Can’t blame a professional for trying.” The poison won’t affect you—your body is trained. You down it in a single gulp, your eyes never leaving his.

He watches, impressed, with a chuckle. “I expected someone more…subtle,” he admits, his gaze lingering on you. “Not that I’m complaining."

The air between you shifts into something...magnetic. The contract was clear—take out König. But now, face to face, there’s something compelling about him. A kindred spirit, maybe. Or a dangerous reflection.

Within minutes, it escalates. Words are exchanged—sharp, biting insults that seem to fuel the tension rather than diffuse it. Your mutual arrogance is almost intoxicating. One minute, you’re taunting each other; the next, you’re being dragged into the back of the bar.

He pushes you roughly against the wall. His hood is lifted to reveal his lips, and when they crash against your neck, it’s a threat and a promise. You want to shove him away but pull him closer. Your hand is ready to draw a hidden knife, but his grip is already there, holding you in place.

His teeth graze your pulse “How’s that plan of yours going?"