THE cold night wind struck Maxin's face, clashing harshly against the warmth of his body. His cheeks were flushed, and his lips parted in ragged breaths. He leaned his head back against the wall, his hazy gaze unable to look away from the woman in front of him.
Weakened, Maxin's dulled reflexes barely caught her movement as she pulled aside a flap of her long overcoat and wrapped her hand around a cold metal object. His heart skipped countless beats before suddenly racing, pumping adrenaline-laced blood through the thin veins beneath his warm skin. A drop of sweat slid down his forehead, and faintly, he heard the chilling proclamation of the figure before him:
"This is the first time I'll kill someone in such a crowded place. I might get caught—and that's electrifying. You know, things were supposed to go quietly, meticulously planned. But your face ruined everything. Especially those damned eyes that drive me insane!" She sighed, and her silhouette trembled in the shadow cast against the wall behind Maxin.
"I spent so long dreaming up ways to kill you, consumed by the fire of my own hatred, that now I can't even make sense of what's happening. Goddamn it, you're just a target—with those fucking eyes." In silence, Maxin could only tremble before the storm of words hurled in a furious torrent.
The woman he had first mistaken as shy and awkward touched his face with a cold hand and drew in a sharp breath. When her chest ceased to rise and fall, she lifted that hand—and Maxin gasped as the icy barrel of a gun pressed against his forehead. His mouth opened, and a low sound escaped his throat.
"Right here, right now—this cursed story ends. Goodbye, Romanov."
Nox's eyes glinted with murderous intent as she stared at Maxin's pitiful form. Like a deer frozen in headlights, he waited for the end.
His legs gave out, and the deafening sound of the shot sent a piercing pain through his skull.
A thin stream of blood began to trickle down Maxin's temple. The brutal impact of being shoved to the ground had slammed his head against the hard pavement. As he opened his eyes, the numbness in his limbs ebbed slightly, and he curled into himself, trembling so violently his teeth chattered. Drawing his knees to his chest, Maxin covered his ears and shut his eyes, wishing with all his might to vanish from this nightmare.
"What the fuck…"
Even in the dim light, Nox could see the small bullet hole in the wall where Maxin had been leaning. Ten centimeters—that was all that stood between life and death.
Spinning around, her ears caught the sound of labored breathing a few meters behind her. Nox didn't hesitate—she turned and fired into the dark. Several shots rang out.
A dull thud echoed as something collapsed to the ground, followed by ragged gasps that filled the narrow alley. Her imposing figure moved toward the fallen man, his face illuminated faintly by his phone screen—still glowing with an active call that had begun thirty seconds ago.
"So you're the one interfering? Really… I spent a long time planning this, and you had to screw it up?" Kneeling less than two feet from the man on the ground, she spoke coldly. "Tell me: who are you? Who sent you? And why the hell were you aiming at me?"
"Go to hell!" he spat, one hand soaked in blood.
Nox laughed.
"Maybe someday. But not today."
Amused, her eyes flicked to the phone. She yanked it from his grip. The call had ended during the exchange, but resumed almost immediately.
The phone vibrated in her hand. Setting her gun down beside her, she pressed a cold palm to the man's bloodied mouth. He groaned, but she didn't stop.
"Is he dead? Is Maxin Romanov dead?" A male voice, subtly anxious, came through the speaker.
"It's too early to say." The voice on the other end inhaled. Nox's tone remained detached. "But I know your partner won't survive the next twenty minutes. Take this as a warning—it's forbidden to interfere with someone else's target." Her words were icy.
"Hah! You're just some bitch playing assassin. Listen here, mutt—there are plenty of people who want Maxin Romanov's head. You're nothing compared to my men, who'll be arriving soon to show you who's in charge."
"How charming, a pig trying to spit filth into my ears." Unfazed, Nox gave her message:"Maxin Romanov is mine. He's my target—and only I can kill him. Now, if you'll excuse me…"Without waiting for a retort, Nox threw the phone to the ground and rose with her weapon in hand.
The crunch of glass beneath her boots stirred no reaction from the man barely clinging to life.
Standing tall like a demon wreathed in shadow, her predatory eyes locked on Maxin, still huddled with his head bowed and knees to his chest. Without mercy, she grabbed a fistful of his dark, soft hair, yanking him to his feet and forcing his eyes open to meet hers. Her slender fingers slid from his scalp to cup his cheeks—against his smooth skin, he felt the faint calluses of someone who fired weapons without remorse.
The amber in his eyes darkened with fear, and not a word passed his lips—his throat too tight to speak. Maxin's assassin tilted her head, studying his pathetic expression. Her cold fingers squeezed his face, forcing him to shake beneath her scrutinizing stare.
Her breath once again brushed his skin, warm and intimate. He inhaled it, and a chill ran down his spine.
She withdrew her hands and brought the gun back near his face. Maxin swallowed hard, his eyes widening, his heart pausing in his chest. The barrel brushed his forehead—and the sharp pain returned.
Her free arm instinctively wrapped around his narrow waist, pulling him close to her warmth. Stowing the pistol, she held his limp body tightly. Maxin, unconscious, couldn't resist.
Carrying him to a dark-colored car, she unlocked it, holding him close. She felt the soft breath from his head resting on her shoulder. Opening the trunk with practiced ease, she placed him inside as though handling groceries. With a rope she had prepared, she tied his wrists in a firm knot.His bangs fell over his softly sleeping face, and before she knew it, her finger brushed them away from his forehead.
Her heart stuttered for a moment—then beat again as usual. With an unreadable expression, Nox closed the trunk and stepped into the car. Her presence went unnoticed by the small camera left in a blind spot by some rowdy teenagers.
Her flip phone rang. She grabbed it before starting the engine. The name "Viktor" lit up the screen.
"Nox… is he dead yet?" he asked carefully.
"Not yet."
The words hung in the air. Nox hung up before offering any more explanation. Tossing the phone aside, she ran a hand through her hair, nearly frustrated. She had no desire to dissect the night's events. Starting the engine, she sped away.
The assassin should've been alone. Driving through the streets, shoulders lightened after completing her mission. But reality was different.
The person in the trunk was still breathing.
Alive.
Yes. Maxin Romanov, the man who was meant to die that night, was still alive.
And that would haunt Nox for a very long time.