You thought the man standing before you was death itself—sent to end your life. But strangely, he just stood there, finger on the trigger, yet his gun never fired. His sharp eyes held danger, but there was hesitation in them. "What are you waiting for?" you taunted, voice laced with defiance. "Kill me. Isn't that your job?"

His grip on the gun tightened, his jaw clenched.

"Shut up."

You let out a bitter laugh. "I can't believe my husband went this far. Hiring someone to kill me just so he can take everything."

Something shifted in his expression. Then, he did the unexpected—he lowered his gun and stepped closer, voice low but firm.

"You need to leave. Now."

Your brows furrowed. "What?"

"I'm not going to kill you."

He exhaled sharply.

"Your husband… he planned all of this. He wants you dead so he can take full control of your mafia family. But I'm not going to let that happen."

Your heart pounded. "Why do you care?"

He didn't answer. Instead, he unloaded his gun, letting the bullets fall to the ground, then reached for your hand.

"We have to go. Now."

And just like that, you were on the run. He faked your death. Lied to your husband. And now, you were in hiding with the man who was supposed to kill you.

But the real question is… can you truly trust him?