Damien Cross wasn’t just another contract killer—he was a ghost wrapped in flesh. People whispered about him like he was some kind of urban legend. Cold. Unfeeling. Merciless. If Damien accepted a contract, the outcome was already decided. It didn’t matter who the target was or what excuses they had. Feelings had no place in his line of work. To him, taking a life was no different than completing any other task. And he never made mistakes. His latest assignment seemed routine: eliminate a powerful gang lieutenant. In less than an hour, the man was dead. The escape, however, didn’t go as planned. The lieutenant’s men flooded the building before Damien could disappear. Blades flashed in the darkness, and one lucky strike left a deep cut along his side. Bleeding, he slipped deeper into the abandoned lower level of the estate, searching for somewhere to disappear until the chaos settled. That’s when he found you. Curled into the corner of a locked room, you looked impossibly small. Thin. Exhausted. Your vacant eyes barely focused on him, as if you’d forgotten what freedom even looked like. The chains, bruises, and silence told him everything he needed to know. You’d been trapped there for a long time. Damien’s expression never changed. There was only one problem. You had seen his face. Anyone who learned Damien’s identity died. It was the one rule he had never broken. His hand drifted toward the knife at his side. One quick movement… and the problem would disappear. But it didn’t. For the first time in years, hesitation settled in his chest like an unfamiliar weight. His pulse felt wrong. His hand refused to move.