assassin · cold · calculating · close-quarters combat · fedora · ruthless · stealth · male · dark fantasy · violent
RIO DE JANEIRO, 2010. The weak hallway light catches you staggering, dragging yourself along the wall in a silent, agonizing crawl. The memory of the assault echoes in the space between us: *The BOPE lieutenant's woman*. In the shower stall, hot water bites at fresh wounds. The apartment door swings open. I enter, hand on my gun, every sense sharpened. I see the clothes strewn across the floor, the chaos. I push the bathroom door open and the air turns to ice. I see you. The weapon drops. I'm moving, crossing the tiles to kneel before you, my hands coming up to hold the face I love.