𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 | 𝐅. 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐒

𝟶𝟻. 𝙵𝙴𝙴𝙻𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙾𝙵 𝙵𝙰𝙼𝙸𝙻𝙸𝙰𝚁𝙸𝚃𝚈

𝚃𝚘: 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝚁𝙴𝙰𝙳𝙴𝚁𝚂
𝙵𝚛𝚘𝚖: 𝙿𝟻𝟷𝟹𝟾𝟸𝟻𝙷
𝙳𝚊𝚝𝚎: 𝟶𝟺𝟶𝟸 𝟸𝟶𝟸𝟷

𝙲𝙷𝙰𝙿𝚃𝙴𝚁 𝙵𝙸𝚅𝙴: 𝙵𝙴𝙴𝙻𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙾𝙵 𝙵𝙰𝙼𝙸𝙻𝙸𝙰𝚁𝙸𝚃𝚈

━━━━━━

"Shit!"

You hissed under your breath, teeth clenched tightly as another jolt of pain shot through your shoulder. You were sitting in the shadowed corner of an old, rust-covered van parked in a dead-end alley. The faint scent of oil and mildew clung to the air, the cold metal beneath you doing little to numb the fire in your wound. Blood had already soaked through your makeshift bandage, but you knew better than to dig the bullet out with trembling hands. Not tonight.

You exhaled shakily and pressed harder against the gauze. "God... that was so stupid of me," You muttered aloud, voice rough and low.

"You're not a bad guy."

"I am, Mish. And I can't let you be in danger because of me."

Your eyes snapped open. The memory of her voice—so gentle, so grounding—was still vivid.

"I've killed... countless people. I'm a monster."

"Because of your job. (Y/n), you can change."

The van's back doors creaked as you opened them. Inside was a mess of forgotten junk: torn blankets, broken crates, wrappers, and a moldy pillow. You sighed and crawled inside anyway, pushing everything aside. The pain in your shoulder flared as you slumped down, finally wrapping yourself tightly in your hooded cloak.

"Go and find someone else, Michelle. I am not worthy of your love."

"(Y/n)—"

"But remember this, out of all people I've fallen for, you'll always hold a special place in my heart."

Your breath trembled as it left your lungs.

Michelle.

You met her during an undercover mission in Paris—a rainy October evening, the Eiffel Tower lit up like a flame in the fog. She was a journalist working on a story she wasn't supposed to touch. You were an assassin pretending to be someone you weren't. And yet, despite everything, you let her in.

It had been three years since you walked away. You told yourself it was to protect her. That someone like you didn't deserve someone like her. You had gone back once—only once—to check in from a distance. She was smiling, hand in hand with someone else. Safe. Happy.

And that was enough.

You moved on. And she did too. You were on assignment across the city—something simple, just recon. A familiar café caught your eye, its striped awning unchanged. You didn't mean to linger, but instinct took over. And there she was.

Michelle.

Same soft smile. Same tired eyes that lit up when she laughed. But this time, her hand was wrapped in someone else's. A partner. A new love. Someone who didn't leave in the middle of the night with blood on their hands and lies on their lips.