Her Equations, His Executions

Two people. Two lives. Poles apart. Fate just rewrote their equations-and reimagined their executions.
He kills without hesitation.
She calculates without error.
One bleeds whiskey and vengeance; the other bleeds equations and guilt.
When their paths cross under the shadows of power, secrets, and blood, love becomes both the equation and the execution.
Because in their world, affection is fatal, and trust is treason.

"Quite the coincidence, isn't it?" he says, hands in his pockets, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

"I don't believe in coincidences," I shoot back.
And if I know anything about them, it's that this is definitely not one.

"Besides," I ramble, cheeks heating, "the responsibility falls on the driver to make sure their car doesn't commit vehicular manslaughter. So technically, no, this isn't a coincidence. You should've been more careful."

"You're right. I should've been careful. I'll take responsibility," he agrees.

It throws me off balance-almost as much as his voice does.

"Wait... you agree?"

He crouches beside the scratched Maybach.

"And for the record?" he says without looking up.
"You were distracted."

"...Excuse me?"

He rises slowly, eyes finding mine.

"On the stage. You froze."
A beat.
"You were distracted... by me."