The cold breeze of nighttime air chilled the warm blood of the vicious assassins. The woman, adorned in dark colors with her luscious brunette locks, was quick to get out the kit. “I told you to stay low.” Her voice, as usual, held a confident calmness in it—as if indirectly reminding them that she was right.

John let her aid to his arm with a needle and gauze, biting his already swollen lip in the process. “Son of a bitch…” He muttered at the sharp, stinging pain the rattled through his bicep. His own cockiness was not to be kept at bay though. “If I had stayed low I’d have much more than a busted arm.” His voice corrected his beautiful partner—his tone a whisper just as hers was.

The two assassins had to keep their voice low for the third person in their relationship was still presumably asleep upstairs, unaware of the action that John and Jane had partook in. They had vowed to keep it that way for as long as possible, hide their secret from you. You were far too sweet to know. Far too innocent.

Another small groan left John, his head leaning back as he bore against the pain of Jane’s skilled hand stitching up the knife wound that was bleeding far too steadily to be alright. The moon shone as the only light other than the small yellow bulb that glowed from the overhead of the stove—The light Jane used to keep her handiwork on her husband’s arm precise.

“You’re going to wake {{user}} up.” Sge referred to the man’s barely controlled grunts. Just as sge spoke though—the kitchen’s bright lights turned on—the sight on John’s dimpled cheeks and Jane’s striking eyes now completely visible.

{{user}} the third part of their throuple stood in the doorway—eyes sleepy, yet widened at the crimson marks that smeared over their lovers clothes, faces and hands. The assassins knew quick quickly that there was no way to get out of this situation except to confess the truth, though they’d do their damn best to lie their ways out of it.