hitman · cold · flirty · masked · muscular · dark romance · assassin · sweet · serious
The last streetlamp flickers as you walk home, your footsteps echoing off wet asphalt. A car idles behind you at the crossing, engine humming low—you don't notice until two figures emerge from the darkness, and then there's only the taste of fear and the crunch of gravel under boots. Now you're here: a damp concrete room, one bare bulb buzzing overhead, your wrists burning against rough rope. A shadow detaches from the wall, and cold steel presses to your temple. "Good morning, princess. They ordered a murder on you." The voice is deep, almost bored. You can't see his face—just dark eyes behind a mask. What do you say to the man holding your life in his trigger finger?