Some love stories end in marriage
Some end in blood
The first time I saw him again?
He was standing in my bedroom at 3:17 a.m., holding a knife like it belonged in me.
The air was cold. My pulse wasn't.
His face was half in shadow, the other half a memory I'd spent months trying to forget. That same cruel mouth. That same jaw clenched like he was fighting demons.
And those eyes - dark, bottomless, and already drowning me.
I should've screamed.
I didn't.
Because even with a weapon in his hand, blood on his hands, and my name on his hit list?
I still wanted him.
And that's how you know I'm the real danger here.
---
"I didn't come to kill you, love," he said, voice low, velvet-dagger smooth.
"Not yet, at least."
He took a step forward.
I didn't move.
I wanted to. God, I wanted to run. Or slap him. Or kiss him.
But I was frozen. Trapped somewhere between lust and fury.
"Put the knife down," I whispered.
He smiled. The kind of smile people die for.
Literally.
"Funny," he said, "you weren't this scared when you ordered a hit on me."
My stomach dropped. The memory hit like a bullet.
Yes. I tried to kill him.
And failed.
---
He grabbed me by the wrist and pushed me back onto the bed, the blade cold against my collarbone.
Our faces inches apart.
His body over mine.
His rage practically pulsing through his skin.
"You always thought I'd be the one on top, didn't you?" I whispered, and before I could stop myself - I grabbed the knife.
And flipped him.
He hit the mattress hard, and now I was on top.
His eyes widened. Not with fear - with admiration.
> "Don't lie to yourself, Mr. Blackwell," I growled.
"You always had the upper hand. But now I do."
I pressed the blade to his chest - and twisted.
> "Does it hurt," I whispered, "to know the person who loved you? could betray you?"
He didn't answer.
> "Cat got your tongue?" I smirked.
Then finally - he spoke.
Voice cracked, breath shaky, eyes softer than I was ready for.
> "I didn't mean to hurt my precious."
That was the moment I broke.
I looked down at him?
...and whispered the two words I swore I never would again.
> "I'm sorry."
And just like that - BANG.
A gunshot.
---
I felt it before I saw it.
The bullet ripped through me, hot and violent, and I collapsed - right on his chest.
> "No. No no no - " he gasped, catching me.
> "You can't die like this. Not now. Not when our story just began."
I smiled through the blood.
Her blood soaked through my shirt like a confession - warm, slow, impossible to ignore.
She collapsed against my chest, her breath shallow.
And in that moment, I didn't feel like the villain anymore.
I felt like the man who lost everything.
> "Stay with me, dammit," I whispered, hands shaking as I pressed them to the wound.
"You don't get to say sorry and leave me like this."
She smiled. Smiled.
Even with a bullet inside her.
> "At least it began?" she whispered again.
Then her eyes fluttered shut.
Panic isn't loud. It's quiet - like the breath you hold before a scream.
> "No. No, no, no - "
I reached for my phone with one bloody hand and kept the other on her chest.
Still warm. But fading.
"Get me out. She's hit. I need a medic. No cops."
My voice was cold. Trained. But inside? I was fracturing.
---
I looked down at her again.
The woman who once put a knife to my throat?
The woman I loved like sin itself?
The woman I should've killed months ago.
> "You should've killed me first, baby," I whispered, brushing her blood-matted hair from her face.
"Because now I'm coming for all of them."
And I meant it.
---
Sirens would be too loud. Lights, too bright.
I had my own people. My own doctors.
I didn't trust the system. I was the system - the one people paid to survive.
She wouldn't die.
Not until I got my revenge.
Not until I found out who pulled the trigger.
---
By the time the black SUV screeched outside the mansion gates, I already had her in my arms, walking through the dark like a man with a mission.
Not a man in love.
Not a man in pain.
But a man who had just realized something terrifying:
If she dies? the old me dies with her.
And the man left behind?
He won't have mercy
"There won't be any mercy this time," I said, my voice low.
She blinked slowly, blood trailing from the corner of her mouth. Her body heavy on mine, skin growing colder by the second. But her lips still curved… still hers.
> "You always say that," she whispered weakly, barely audible.
"But I know your mercy lives where I live... in your chest."
That wrecked me.
Even as she bled. Even as her pulse faded.
She still had power over me.
---
> "You think I'm letting you die?" I muttered, pressing harder on her wound.
"You don't get to go out like this. Not in my arms. Not without punishment."
Her eyes fluttered, barely open.
> "Then punish me… with a kiss," she whispered.
I didn't hesitate.
I kissed her like it was the last time - because I didn't know if it was.
Blood on her lips.
Tears in my eyes.
And her heartbeat… slowing.
Fists on the door.
My men stormed in. One look at her body, and they moved fast.
> "Boss, we gotta move. We've got less than five minutes - whoever shot her might not be done."
I stood, carrying her like she was made of porcelain and memories.
> "Get the car. Bring the medic. And find out who the hell pulled that trigger."
They nodded.
> "And Boss?" one asked. "What about mercy?
I looked down at her
Her blood
Her Breath
Her broken whispers
" Mercy died when that bullet hit her"
" Now I'm bringing hell Hell "