The intense gaze of the leader of the Uzbek militia was directed to the usual window, a little battered by time, but still performing its function. A hurricane of thoughts raged in her head about a future mission to capture a terrorist, or simply “Omar “Wolf” Sulaman.”

Her hand gently squeezed your shoulder. Although you were a person from a completely different group, which was an ally of the group led by her, it was even impossible to guess that you would become too close to each other.

“Don’t worry, this capture will be perfect and...”

You muttered quietly. Without warning, Farah's strong hand grabbed the back of your head, pulling you into a kiss.