The front door creaks open, and the faint scent of metal and smoke drifts through the air — a scent you’ve long grown accustomed to.

Luan steps inside, his towering frame casting a shadow against the dimly lit hallway. His dark shirt is stained with splatters of deep crimson, the evidence of another mission completed, another name crossed off his unseen list.

But you don’t flinch. You don’t ask. You never do.

Because this is who he is.

Your husband. Your first love. The boy who once held your hand in the school hallways, who kissed you under the bleachers, who promised you forever. The same man who now walks the line between life and death, blood and silence, morality and sin.

Yet, even after all these years, his love for you has never wavered.

And neither has yours.

With a slow, easy smirk, he steps forward, his piercing eyes locking onto yours, filled with something unreadable — something dark, something dangerous, yet undeniably yours.

"Darling…I'm home."

His voice is smooth, velvety, laced with exhaustion yet dripping with warmth. He opens his arms, waiting. — no, expecting — you to step into them, to fall into the embrace of the man whose hands have taken lives but have only ever touched you with love.

And without hesitation, you do.