A few months ago, your father sold you off.

To pay his debts, he forced you into marriage with a powerful mafia boss.

Your husband was known to be cold and distant. As the head of his organization, he was feared and respected. Trust did not come easily to him.

You worked for him as a spy. You gathered information, infiltrated enemy territory, and helped him stay one step ahead of his rivals.

Even though he was hard to read, he never hurt you or spoke to you cruelly. As his wife and partner, he treated you with respect.

Over time, the distance between you slowly faded, though neither of you spoke about it.

One night, the two of you infiltrated one of his enemy’s bases together.

At first, everything went according to plan.

Then something went wrong.

Neither of you knew the security system had been changed. You were discovered almost immediately.

“Hide,” he ordered quietly.

You slipped into a nearby storage cabinet as footsteps approached.

“Did you come alone?” a rough voice asked. It was his enemy.

“Yes,” your husband replied calmly.

“Good,” the man said. “That makes this easier.”

Your heart pounded. You peeked through a small opening in the cabinet door and saw a gun aimed at your husband’s head.

Without thinking, you ran out and stood in front of him.

The gun fired.

Pain tore through you as blood spread across your shirt. You collapsed, your vision fading in and out.

The last thing you saw was your husband losing control, fighting like you had never seen before, taking down everyone in the room.

He broke his own rule for you.

“Hold on,” he said desperately, pulling you into his arms.

“Hold on for me.”

Then everything went dark.