A silent billionaire.
A woman trained to kill.
When power marries danger, love turns lethal.
The private gathering had grown larger as the night progressed.
Valentino Ravello stood near the center of the gathering with Dominic beside him while influential guests moved through the room carrying glasses of wine.
Velvet Viper remained beside me for most of it. Unfortunately, my attention remained on her.
Every few minutes, I found myself looking in her direction. Sometimes she ignored it. Sometimes she rolled her eyes.
Eventually, she caught me doing it again. Her expression became increasingly unimpressed.
I smiled.
That only made it worse.
She simply stared at me before giving me a look that clearly questioned every decision that had brought me into her life.
I didn’t know when it had happened, but it had become impossible for me to take my eyes off her.
“If you’ll excuse me.”
For a few minutes, she only gave me death glares. Her breathing turned heavier, and her nose reddened with anger. Then she turned away and walked off without another word.
I watched her disappear toward the upper floor of the hall, where people were discussing things she actually enjoyed—music, dance, and art. She didn’t even look back or acknowledge my presence anymore.
The moment she left, a different man suddenly appeared to discuss business. Then another approached to talk about something else. Every time I attempted to leave, someone intercepted me.
I answered them briefly, keeping politeness in my words despite my growing frustration. My woman was angry with me, and I needed to go convince her.
Approximately half an hour later, my patience started disappearing. My attention kept drifting toward a quieter staircase along the side corridor, away from the grand ballroom staircase the guests used. It was the same direction Velvet had gone.
Finally, I ended another conversation.
“If you’ll excuse me.”
Before anyone could stop me again, I walked away.
Almost no guests used this staircase. It was mainly reserved for waitresses transporting food and drinks throughout the party.
I started toward it.
Halfway there, someone collided with me.
The impact was light but unexpected.
A young waitress stumbled backward in panic while the tray in her hands tilted dangerously. Several drops of dark red wine splashed across my sleeve.
“Oh God—I’m so sorry, sir.”
Her face lost all color as she stared at the floor.
“I didn’t see you. I’m so sorry.”
The words poured out too quickly. Her hands trembled badly, and she kept staring down while apologizing. She looked genuinely frightened.
Before I could respond, she lowered her head repeatedly.
“I’m sorry, sir. Please forgive me.”
Then she hurried away.
This kind of thing was normal. It had been my fault for stepping into her path. With this number of guests, the staff barely had time to breathe.
She rushed away so quickly that I didn’t even have time to tell her it was fine.
Within seconds, she disappeared around the corner.
I glanced down at my sleeve. The black fabric hid all the spill. Nothing worth worrying about. Under normal circumstances, I would have forgotten about it immediately, yet something bothered me. The woman had looked terrified before the collision had even happened, as if she already knew she was about to make a mistake. But I dismissed the thought.
I had bigger concerns. Specifically, one infuriating woman upstairs.
I continued walking, but this time toward the nearby washroom. The smell lingering on my sleeve seemed stronger than ordinary wine. I turned on the sink and held the fabric beneath the water while grabbing a napkin.
The cold stream washed over the sleeve, then something caught my attention.
I froze.
The surface beneath the liquid looked different. My expression darkened instantly. I ran more water across the area.
The damage became easier to see.
The fabric looked burned. A corrosive substance. A compound capable of destroying tissue.
It was poison.
Every instinct I possessed came alive at once. This certainly wasn’t ordinary wine. Someone had mixed something into that drink.
My jaw tightened.
The ballroom music continued outside. Meanwhile, somewhere inside Valentino Ravello’s party, a waitress was carrying poison.
Which meant someone inside this building intended to assassinate someone. There were too many powerful people gathered here. Anyone could be the target.
The moment I realized the wine had been poisoned, I left the washroom immediately. I moved quickly through the corridor toward the main hall, my eyes scanning every face the moment I entered.
The conversations were still continuing. Everything looked normal.
For everyone else, nothing had changed.
For me, the entire room had become a battlefield.
My gaze immediately searched for Valentino. He was the most obvious target. His businesses had already survived multiple attacks.
It could have been me as well, but if I had been the target, my game would have been over already. I was still breathing.
Valentino stood near the center of the gathering beside Dominic, speaking with several guests while servants moved through the room carrying trays of wine.
I searched for the waitress. Perhaps there were multiple assassins involved. Perhaps she had already handed the poisoned glass to someone else. Any possibility could be there.
Then I saw Velvet Viper.
She stood on the staircase. I looked in the direction of her gaze; she was staring directly at the same woman who had collided with me. The tray was still in her hands.
Something about Velvet’s expression had changed. The playful amusement she carried earlier had vanished completely. Her eyes narrowed slightly, as if she had noticed that something was wrong.
The waitress also looked at her. She looked very terrified. Nervousness was written all over her face. Her hands trembled around the tray.
Now the waitress glanced toward a man standing near the far corner of the room. The man gave her a subtle signal.
Most people would never have noticed it. Unfortunately for them, both Velvet and I did.
The waitress continued walking, step by step, toward Valentino. She stopped in front of him and offered the tray.
Valentino reached toward one of the glasses when everything happened at once.
From the staircase, Velvet casually picked up a wine glass from a waiter’s tray and threw it. The movement was so fast that most people never even saw her arm move.
The crystal glass crossed the room and slammed into the glass in Valentino’s hand. Both glasses exploded into pieces. Red wine splashed across the floor along with shattered crystal.
The room froze. Every eye fixed on her.
Guards moved instantly, weapons appearing in their hands.
Dominic spun toward Velvet.
“What the hell are you doing?”
Valentino’s face darkened instantly, but he said nothing.
Velvet calmly walked forward. Without offering a single explanation, she picked up a shard of broken glass covered with wine. Her expression never changed despite the guns pointed at her.
She walked toward a decorative flower arrangement on one of the tables and allowed a single drop of wine to fall onto a white flower.
Everyone watched, and within seconds the petals began changing color. The edges darkened. The flower died before their eyes.
Both brothers stared at it.
The guards tightened their grips on their weapons. Panic spread through the room.
“Find the waitress,” Dominic shouted.
Guards immediately scattered throughout the building.
Valentino’s gaze slowly settled on Velvet. For the first time since I had met him, the man genuinely looked shaken, then he gave a small nod.
“You saved my life tonight.”
Velvet merely adjusted the sleeve of her coat.
Applause started somewhere near the back of the room. Every person present understood exactly how close death had come, and every one of them understood who had stopped it.
Yet while everyone else watched Velvet Viper accept their admiration, I found myself thinking about something entirely different.
The moment the glass shattered, the waitress had looked at Velvet, and Velvet had given her a signal. I had seen it clearly.
And after that, the woman disappeared through a side corridor while Velvet was demonstrating the poison on the flower.
Several guards searched every corner of the building, then one shouted.
“Stop her! There she is!”
At that exact moment, I noticed something. A flicker of tension crossed Velvet’s face.
A disturbing thought entered my mind.
What if Velvet herself had planned Valentino’s assassination, and at the last moment decided to save him instead? A perfect way to earn his trust.
I was left with far too many questions, and I had to confront her.
She started walking upstairs while the chaos downstairs continued. In the middle of all that confusion, she disappeared.
I saw her only for a moment.
While everyone focused on the poisoned glass, she slipped away from the gathering and headed toward the private side of the estate—toward the elevators.
I started after her immediately. Unfortunately, half the guests seemed determined to stop me. By the time I got rid of all of them, Velvet had already vanished from sight.
I reached the elevator area just in time to see the doors closing. For a brief second, I caught a glimpse of her black-and-white coat before the elevator disappeared upward.
My eyes narrowed.
What was she doing?
Most of the guests were still downstairs. The upper floors were reserved for private suites. Each suite occupied almost an entire section of its floor and was designed for important guests who preferred privacy during long gatherings.
The possibility crossed my mind immediately.
She was probably heading toward our suite.
I entered another elevator. The moment the doors opened, I stepped into a private lobby. Only a handful of suites existed on that level.
I walked directly toward ours and opened the door.
The suite opened into a spacious living area. A circular sofa surrounded a polished marble table at the center of the hall, while a sleek bar counter stocked with expensive bottles stood in one corner. Beyond the hall, a corridor led to three separate bedrooms, each with its own private space.
I closed the door behind me and slowly scanned the room. If Velvet Viper had come here, she was either hiding something… or hiding someone.
A few minutes later, one of the bedroom doors opened.
Velvet stepped outside.
At first glance, she appeared completely normal. But I noticed the thin layer of sweat along her forehead. Her breathing was slightly uneven, and the moment she exited, she immediately shut the door behind her. Her face told me she wanted to make sure nobody had followed her. Then she quickly composed herself.
“When did you get here?” she asked casually.
Her gaze briefly swept across the room before returning to me.
“Did you see the chaos downstairs?”
She removed her black-and-white coat and draped it over the sofa before moving farther into the suite as if nothing unusual had happened.
I leaned against the bar counter.
“I saw how you saved Valentino Ravello’s life.”
A small smile touched my lips.
“Another heroic chapter for your autobiography.”
Her eyes narrowed slightly, then she smiled back.
“I do enjoy collecting achievements.”
She started walking toward the same bedroom from which she had exited a minute ago.
“I’m tired,” she said lightly.
“I want to sleep.”
The moment her hand touched the doorknob, I moved toward it as well. My hand landed over hers.
Her gaze lifted to mine. The smile disappeared from her face, and tension rose immediately.
“I also saw how you signaled the waitress to disappear.”
Her entire body went still. Her hand was still beneath mine as I turned the doorknob.
“Mr. Rathore.”
She spoke quickly, but I ignored her.
The door swung open.
My eyes immediately found the waitress sitting in the far corner of the room. She was curled against the wall, her arms wrapped tightly around herself. All color had drained from her face, and sweat covered her body. The moment she saw me, she grabbed her hair and started crying hard.
I turned toward Velvet.
“What is she doing here?”
My voice came out colder than I intended.
“Mr. Rathore.”
Her tone remained calm as she stepped forward immediately.
“Close the door.”
I laughed.
Really? Giving me instructions in a situation like this, as if I was the one doing something wrong and she wasn’t hiding an attempted assassin inside our suite.
“I want answers. Not instructions.”
My gaze shifted back toward the waitress.
“This woman just attempted to poison Valentino Ravello. I’m calling security.”
My anger only grew stronger seeing the waitress here, and as for Velvet, I was going to question her personally about every part of this mess.
“No.”
Her eyes burned with anger, and the refusal came without hesitation.
Before I could react, she shoved me backward and slammed the bedroom door shut.
I simply stared at her as surprise filled my face.
“Bring every guard in this building if you want, but she isn’t leaving.”
Her voice shook with fury, and her chest rose and fell rapidly. The protectiveness in her voice wasn’t normal. It felt personal.
“She’s your partner,” I said, taking a step toward her.
“No.”
“Then why are you protecting her?”
The question hung between us.
She didn’t answer for several moments, and I remained waiting for her justification. Then her eyes became glassy with pain.
“Because she’s a victim. She was forced.”
I remained silent, calmly listening to every word.
Velvet looked away briefly before speaking again.
“If she refused, she would lose far more than her life.”
Her jaw tightened. Something inside her voice felt painfully real.
I suddenly remembered something. There had been a man standing near the corner of the hall. He had been giving the waitress instructions with his eyes. Maybe he was the real culprit.
My anger cooled slightly.
So the woman had been forced. That didn’t make her innocent, but it changed things. She had been dragged into someone else’s rivalry, and it had cost her dearly in every way possible.
Velvet looked ready to go to war for her.
And that interested me.
“Hmm.”
I stepped closer.
“If that’s the truth, darling…”
I placed a hand gently on her shoulder.
“…you could have simply told me.”
Her reaction was immediate. She shoved me backward hard. My amusement grew instantly.
“What did you just call me?”
Her teeth clenched, and her eyes practically burned. Her hands curled into fists.
I smiled.
“Darl—”
“Don’t.”
The warning came instantly.
“I am not your submissive.”
The possessiveness in her voice should not have pleased me as much as it did.
I folded my arms.
“You’re right. You’re not my submissive.”
I took another step closer.
“You’re just mine.”
Her expression remained murderous, and her eyes turned red with anger.
I deliberately stepped even closer toward her, and judging by the look she gave me, she was currently deciding whether to kill me with her bare hands or with a weapon.
The look on her face told me I had pushed my luck far beyond what any sane man should. Unfortunately for both of us, I had never been particularly sane where Velvet Viper was concerned.
Her eyes narrowed into dangerous slits.
“Mine?”
The word came out low.
“Listen—”
Before I could finish speaking, she raised the slit of her gown, exposing the dagger strapped high against her thigh. A leather holster held the ornate blade firmly in place, and without a second’s hesitation, she wrapped her fingers around the hilt and drew the weapon from beneath her dress.
I couldn’t believe it.
The knife had been strapped against her thigh the entire evening.
“You brought that to a party?”
“You should be grateful it wasn’t a gun yet.”
The next second, she lunged, and I immediately moved aside.
The knife buried itself into the wooden bar counter behind me. Several bottles crashed onto the floor and shattered along with their expensive contents.
“Are you trying to kill me?”
“Trying?”
She laughed.
I quickly stepped backward without thinking about what was behind me.
The knife sliced through empty air where my throat had been a moment earlier.
“Mr. Rathore, if I wanted you dead, we’d be having a very different conversation.”
I stumbled against a sofa, then quickly moved aside because the blade slammed into the cushion where my body had been only seconds earlier. Feathers exploded into the air.
She ripped the knife free and came at me again. Murder was clearly visible in her eyes.
I retreated around the table, and she followed.
“Darling, what are you doing? Please stop.”
“Say it again.”
She threw the knife at me. I ducked. The blade embedded itself into a decorative pillow behind me.
That only made her angrier.
She grabbed the knife again.
This time, I caught her wrist before she could strike. She struggled against my grip. The knife hovered dangerously between us. Finally, I twisted her wrist and the blade fell.
I caught it.
Then immediately threw it across the room.
The knife landed near the balcony doors.
I was still holding her wrist when she suddenly bit my hand. It happened so fast that I released her immediately. Her teeth sank into my skin.
She quickly ran toward the knife, picked it up, and returned.
I actually laughed.
“What happened to you?”
“I am irritated,” she said, gripping the knife tightly with both hands.
“Because I called you darling?”
“Because you keep behaving like an idiot.”
The knife pointed directly at my chest.
“You think everything is a joke. You keep acting like I belong to you. You keep saying things as if you own me.”
“You are not my property. I just love you,” I said.
The words left my mouth before I could stop them. Even I hadn’t expected to say them out loud.
“You are just an insane man whose eyes landed on a new toy, and you’re not bored with me yet. But you will.”
“Call me whatever you want, but you’re not someone I’m using just for fun.”
The confession escaped before I could think.
“And every time I walk into a room, the first thing I do is look for you. I wait for you. I just want you.”
Something shifted in her expression, but she kept herself firmly in place.
“Liar.”
“If somebody pointed a gun at me right now and told me to choose between my empire and you…”
I shook my head.
“I wouldn’t even ask for time to think because you don’t know when my eyes first landed on you.”
“You really don’t want to go home alive,” she said.
Then she charged at me again, but failed once more.
She stood frozen for a moment, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she struggled to catch her breath. Damp strands of hair had completely escaped their place and now hung wildly across her face, sticking to her skin from the sweat that covered it. Tiny droplets gathered at the ends of those dark strands before sliding down and disappearing against her dress.
Every muscle in her body looked tense, her jaw clenched so tightly it seemed painful. Yet the thing that caught my attention wasn’t her anger.
It was the humiliation.
The fury of someone who had failed.
A slow laugh escaped her lips, each one sounding more unhinged than the last. She suddenly dropped to her knees. The sharp impact echoed across the room. Both hands hit the marble floor and her head lowered. For several seconds, she simply remained there, staring at her own reflection beneath her.
The polished marble reflected every detail back at her. Her eyes burned with rage because I was still breathing. Because she had failed. Her laugh grew louder.
A tear slipped from the corner of her eye, cutting through the mascara beneath it and leaving a dark trail down her cheek. Then another followed. Sweat and tears mixed together before dripping onto the marble below. Her fingers curled into fists and then slammed against the floor.
The sound echoed through the room.
She was trying to silence the woman inside her who could not accept failure.
Growing up as a Rathor, I had survived multiple assassination attempts. At first, it had been luck that saved me. But eventually I realized luck would not be there every time. So I trained myself relentlessly under a man who had trained assassins for years and who had once been one of the most feared assassins of his time.
Every ounce of strength in my body, every reflex, every instinct, and every technique I possessed came from years of brutal training and endless practice. Nothing about tonight was luck. The truth was simple—if I had not forced myself to become stronger, I would have died during her very first attempt.
Her attacks were lethal.
Several times tonight, death had flashed before my eyes. I had escaped, but only barely.
Her laughter continued, almost painful to hear. Her reflection trembled beneath her as more drops of sweat fell onto the marble floor. She looked less like a woman and more like a predator enraged by its own weakness, and somehow that was far more frightening than any knife she had pointed at me tonight.
One thing, however, was perfectly clear.
She would never accept this loss.
She slowly pushed herself upright.
Every movement looked unstable.
Her legs trembled beneath her weight. Sweat glistened across her skin while strands of dark hair clung to her face and neck. The black streaks left by her mascara only made her look more dangerous.
I watched her carefully as she walked toward her purse.
The failure had gotten under her skin.
She opened the purse without taking her eyes off me, then smiled slowly.
The kind of smile that made every instinct inside me scream that something terrible was about to happen.
“Let’s play a game.”
Her voice was calm, but I felt my stomach tighten.
“If you win,” she continued, “I’ll do whatever you say. And if I win…”
Her gaze locked onto mine and her smile widened.
“You’ll do whatever I say.”
I didn’t like this idea.
“What game?” I asked.
For the first time all night, a flicker of genuine fear crawled through my chest because this wasn’t Velvet Viper teasing me. If she wanted to play a game, then the game would be as deadly as she was.
She tilted her head slightly, then laughed.
“Russian roulette.”
The words landed between us like a bomb.
My jaw immediately tightened.
“What?”
Her smile didn’t disappear. Instead, she looked genuinely excited by the idea.
The room suddenly felt colder.
Russian roulette was a deadly game of chance where a loaded revolver decided who walked away and who died.
She took another step forward. Her eyes never left mine.
“Do you know how to play it, Mr. Rathore?” she asked as she pulled a gun from her purse.
Of course I knew how to play this game.
One bullet was loaded into the revolver’s cylinder. The cylinder was spun so nobody knew where the bullet rested.
A player placed the gun against their head and pulled the trigger.
If the chamber was empty, they survived that round. If it contained the bullet, they were shot.
I loved this game of chance, but I didn’t want to play it with her.
I didn’t want her to die, and after finally finding a reason to live, I didn’t want to die either.
Every day since I lost my love, a part of me had wanted to die. Then I found her, and somehow, without even realizing it, she had become my reason to live.
She didn’t know it.
Hell, I barely understood it myself.
But it was true.
“What happened, Mr. Rathore?” she asked.
She loaded a single round into the cylinder, snapped it shut, and attached the suppressor. Then she flicked the cylinder with her thumb, sending it spinning until it finally slowed to a stop.
“Are you scared?”
She was out of her mind. The failure had driven her crazy. She wasn’t even thinking about what she was saying anymore. I slowly lifted both hands into the air in surrender.
“I admit it.”
My eyes never left hers.
“I lost.”
Because there was nothing thrilling about putting your life into the hands of chance.
“Crowd,” she said.
Before I could say anything, she lifted the gun and pressed it against her head.
My heart nearly stopped.
“Wait—”
But she pulled the trigger.
The sharp click echoed between us.
I lunged forward, trying to stop her, but I was too late. Fortunately, she was safe.
She lowered the gun, completely unfazed, and then tossed it toward me. I caught it instinctively before it could hit my face.
A smile spread across her lips.
“Your turn.”
I stared at her as if she had lost her mind.
“Are you crazy?” I demanded, gripping the gun tightly. “Why do you want to die like this?”
My voice rose with frustration, but beneath it was something far more dangerous—fear.
“You are a woman with courage. Even in these dangerous times, when guards are hunting for the accused, you look beyond the lies and see the real victims. And you’re willing to save her at any cost.”
I shook my head, unable to understand what was happening inside her mind.
“If you die on a battlefield, you’ll be remembered as a warrior. People will speak of your bravery long after you’re gone. But this?” I lifted the gun between us. “Why are you doing this?”
The weight of the weapon felt heavier than before as I settled it in my hand, waiting for an answer I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear.
“Die?” she laughed bitterly, shaking her head.
“Who said I’m going to die? I will never die in a filthy game like this.”
Her eyes locked onto mine, burning with rage. Both her palms curled into tight fists at her sides.
“I want you to die.”
She took a step closer, her voice trembling with frustration and years of bottled-up anger.
“From the very beginning, you have been nothing but a thorn in my throat. You keep manipulating me with your filthy tricks, playing your filthy games, pulling every string as if everyone around you is just another pawn.”
Her chest rose and fell rapidly.
“And now, the moment I finally decide to play a game of my own, suddenly you remember your morals and try to teach me a lesson?”
A broken laugh escaped her lips. Her lipstick had begun to fade with each word, and her body grew tighter with anger while sweat continued to trail from her forehead down her neck.
“No. I am not some woman you can trick, take advantage of, and then walk away from as if nothing ever happened.”
She jabbed a finger toward my chest.
“No matter what I do… no matter how many times I attack you, how much skill I use, how carefully I plan everything—you always survive. Every single time.”
Her voice cracked.
“And do you know what irritates me the most?”
Her eyes glistened with fury. She dragged both hands through her hair, gripping the strands so tightly her knuckles turned white.
“The fact that I keep seeing you breathe. It drives me insane.”
She shook her head and laughed again, but there was no amusement in it—only frustration.
“So today, you will die. I will make sure of it.”
The room fell silent.
Her voice dropped into something cold and terrifying.
“Today, you will not walk out of here breathing.”
Every word she spoke cut through me like a blade, striking directly at my heart.
In this game, there was no way to save yourself. The only goal was to make sure your enemy died first. It had always been a game of cruel odds—half chance, half fate.
But she was so frustrated with me, so consumed by anger and resentment, that she was willing to risk her own life just to see me dead.
The realization settled heavily in my chest.
I looked at her for a long moment before speaking.
“Just so you know,” I said quietly, my voice rough with emotion, “my games may have been filthy, but I never manipulated you just to use you.”
My fingers tightened around the gun.
“Everything I did… every feeling I had… was real.”
I swallowed hard, unable to look away from her. As the cold wind came through the window and flowed around us, my words came just as freely, and every one of them was true.
“From the very beginning, it was always you.”
A bitter smile touched my lips as I thought about what she truly thought of me. This moment was special because, for the first time, I finally knew what she felt for me and what place I held in her heart.
“The funny thing is… you don’t even know when that beginning started.”
For a moment, silence stretched between us. Then I slowly raised the gun and pressed the cold metal against my temple.
My eyes never left hers.
If these were my final seconds, then she would be the last thing I wanted to see.
I pulled the trigger. A click echoed through the air, but not the bullet. I was still alive.
She smiled.
Even in that moment, standing in the middle of this madness, she still looked beautiful—beautiful enough to make everything else disappear.
A bitter thought crossed my mind.
If I died, I would always regret that I never truly got to live my life with her. But if she died…
I would regret being alive far more.
Slowly, she held out her hand toward me, expecting me to place the gun back into her palm for her turn. Instead, I started taking steps backward.
The distance between us grew.
Confusion flashed across her face. Both her eyebrows lifted in confusion.
I kept my eyes fixed on her as I raised the gun to my own head once again.
“What are you doing?” she whispered.
I didn’t answer. At that moment, there was nothing left in this life that I wanted more than her.
My finger tightened around the trigger. I never looked away from her as the click echoed through the room, and once again, fate spared me.
The empty sound lingered in the air.
For a second, neither of us moved.
Then I saw it—a look of shock spreading across her face. The confidence vanished from her eyes, replaced by something raw and terrified.
She ran toward me immediately, her composure finally breaking as she lunged forward, trying to snatch the gun from my hand before I could pull the trigger again.
Her movements were frantic and desperate, as if the possibility of my death frightened her far more than the possibility of her own.
“Are you crazy? That’s my chance. No need to act too smart. Hand the gun over to me,” she said and stepped in front of me.
I pulled the trigger for the fourth round, but I was still alive.
Fate refused to take me.
I stood on the edge of the balcony, my body leaning against the railing while the cold night wind whipped around us. Two more rounds remained. Just two more, and everything would finally be over.
But she wouldn’t let it happen.
She stopped right in front of me, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Fear, anger, desperation—every emotion battled inside her eyes.
Her first hand grabbed my collar, fisting the fabric tightly as if she could physically stop me from slipping away. With her other hand, she tried to take the gun from my grip.
“Give it to me,” she whispered through gritted teeth.
I caught her wrist before she could reach it, then caught the other one too with the same hand, just like I always did.
Her soft, tiny wrists fit easily within my grasp, yet tonight they trembled more than ever before.
Her fingers struggled against my hold while tears mixed with the sweat on her face. She kept trying to reach the gun, and I kept stopping her.
Not because I wanted to live, but because I couldn’t bear the thought of her dying in my place.
The moonlight fell across her face, making her look almost unreal.
And for the first time since this twisted game had begun, I realized she was fighting harder for my life than I was fighting for my own.
“Mr. Rathore, give me the gun,” she said through gritted teeth, but I ignored her.
My hand was trembling, yet I raised the gun to my head once more and pulled the trigger for the fifth round. Once again, the chamber came up empty, and I was still alive.
Now only one round remained.
The final round.
The round where fate would finally come to collect my life. There was no escape anymore.
The realization settled deep inside my chest, cold and absolute.
Under the silver glow of the moonlight, her body seemed to shine once again. The world around us slowly began to blur, losing its shape and meaning. The balcony, the night sky, the city beyond the railings—everything faded from my vision.
Everything except her.
She was the only thing I could see.
The only thing that mattered.
She moved toward me again, trying to take the gun from my hand.
Sweat still dripped from her forehead, strands of dark hair sticking to her skin. Her black eyes remained locked on mine, filled with irritation, frustration, and something deeper that she refused to show.
And I loved every part of her. Every scar she carried behind those beautiful eyes. Even now, standing face-to-face with death, my heart belonged entirely to her.
If death wanted me, then so be it. But loving her had been the most precious thing I had ever known.
A tear slipped down my cheek as the truth finally settled inside me.
This was the end.
I had dreamed of something different.
I had believed that together we could overcome every obstacle thrown in our path. That somehow, against all odds, we would survive and find our happiness at the end of this cruel world.
I had imagined a future where she was beside me.
A future where neither of us had to fight anymore. But fate had brought me here instead—to this gun.
My fingers trembled around the grip as my breathing grew uneven. Yet my eyes never left her. She was only a few steps away now, close enough for me to see every emotion flickering across her face.
Then suddenly, she stopped moving.
The desperation in her steps vanished. The irritation disappeared from her eyes.
And to my surprise…
She smiled at me.
A small, heartbreaking smile that made my chest ache far more than the gun ever could.
“What happened, Mr. Rathor?” she asked, throwing her head back and laughing loudly. “Where has all your courage gone?”
The sound of her laughter echoed in my ears.
I looked at her through blurred vision as a single tear fell from my eyes, then another, until it became impossible to stop them.
“Yes,” I said quietly. “My courage has vanished.”
A bitter smile touched my lips.
“But if you can help me, it would be my greatest honor.”
For a moment, she simply stared at me, then a confident smile spread across her face.
“Sure,” she said. “It would be my pleasure.”
I slowly lowered the gun. There was no hesitation left inside me. I released both her hands from my grip.
She opened her palm in front of me, her eyes never leaving mine. Without breaking eye contact, I placed the gun into her palm.
The cold metal left my hand and settled into hers. My life was now in her hands.
She wrapped her fingers around the weapon and lifted it slowly. My heartbeat felt silent. Everything disappeared except her.
Then she raised the gun and pointed it directly at my chest.
Right at my heart.
“No… no, not there,” I whispered, shaking my head. “Because in my heart, you live there. If you shoot me there, you’ll only end up hurting yourself.”
I slowly lifted my trembling hand and pointed at my head.
“Put it here instead. Maybe when my last breath leaves my throat, my love for you will leave with it too.”
For the first time, her hand trembled. Just a little.
I saw the crack in her composure.
Yet the smile never vanished from her face.
She raised the gun and pointed it at me now, straight at my head. Her finger rested on the trigger and pulled it, but nothing happened.
Her jaw tightened.
The smile remained, but it looked forced now, as if she was fighting something inside herself.
Slowly, she gathered her courage again and gripped the gun with both hands, tightening her hold as though forcing herself to finish what she had started.
The barrel never moved from my forehead.
“Do it,” I said softly.
Her finger pressed against the trigger, but it wouldn’t move. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t pull it.
A flicker of frustration crossed her face. The gun trembled between us.
I looked into her eyes and understood. She had started crying. Tears slipped from her eyes one after another, turning her nose red. She wanted me dead, but she couldn’t be the one to kill me.
Without a word, I gently wrapped my fingers around hers and took the gun from her hands. I lifted the weapon and pressed the cold metal against my own head.
My eyes never left hers.
“I know it will be hard for you. I know,” I whispered, my voice breaking.
“I’ll do it myself.”
My hand closed around her throat, not hard enough to hurt her, only enough to pull her closer until her face was inches from mine.
“I’ll do it myself. I just wanted to know if this was true. You hate me… but I got my answer. You do. Now there’s no need for me to worry about dying anymore.”
A broken smile touched my lips as tears continued falling from my eyes.
My fingers trembled against her skin.
“But until my eyes close… until my final breath leaves my body…”
My voice cracked.
“Don’t you dare look away from me.”
Fresh tears rolled down my cheeks. I swallowed hard, struggling to breathe around the pain crushing my chest.
“I want to die while looking at you.”
My thumb brushed lightly against her cheek.
“Until my soul leaves my body, I want your face to be the last thing burned into my memory.”
A shaky laugh escaped me.
“You looking at me is the happiest thing that has ever happened in my life. So consider it my last wish.”
The gun rose slowly toward my head. The metal felt cold against my skin.
Another tear slipped down my face.
Even now, with death standing beside me, all I wanted was her.
Only her.
My finger tightened around the trigger, and still, my eyes remained locked on hers.
Then I pulled the trigger.
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