The first strike came fast — a blade flashing in the dim light.

He dodged, barely, the cold edge grazing his cheek as he twisted his body. One breath. One second.

Then — he moved.

His fist crashed into the nearest attacker’s throat. A sickening gurgle followed as the man crumpled. But there was no time to watch. Another came at him from the left. He ducked, caught the assassin’s wrist mid-air, and snapped it with a brutal twist.

A scream. A dagger clattering to the ground.

She stood frozen behind him, staring.

He wasn’t just fighting — he was killing.

And he did it like he had done it a thousand times before.

But they kept coming.

The Past Awakens

More shadows, more blades. The alley became a warzone.

One lunged at her. She gasped, stepping back —

But he was faster.

Before the assassin could touch her, he grabbed the man by the collar and slammed his head into the brick wall. Blood splattered. The body fell.

“Stay behind me,” he ordered, voice low, dangerous.

She should’ve been afraid.

But she wasn’t.

She was terrified — not of him, but of how familiar this felt.

Like she had seen him fight before.

Like she had once stood on a battlefield, watching him slaughter men like this.

Like she had been a part of this war, long ago.

Her head pounded.

Memories. Faint. Flickering. Trying to surface.

But then —

A gun clicked.

She turned.

Too late.

A masked soldier aimed directly at her.

Finger tightening on the trigger.

She stopped breathing.

Then — A gunshot.

The Unforgivable Choice

Pain exploded in her arm as she was shoved aside.

Not by the bullet. By him.

She fell, hitting the ground hard. She gasped, cradling her arm, feeling the heat of the wound that should have been his.

He had pushed her.

He had taken the bullet instead.

He staggered, hand clutching his side.

Red bloomed through his shirt. Too much red.

But he didn’t stop.

Didn’t even slow down.

With one last, brutal move, he drove a dagger into the final attacker’s chest.

The soldier gasped, then went still.

Then — silence.

The battle was over.

Captured

Her breath came in ragged gasps. Bodies littered the ground.

He stood there, still bleeding, breathing hard.

Then — footsteps.

The silver-haired man hadn’t moved the entire time.

And now, he clapped. Slow. Mocking.

“Impressive,” he mused. “Truly.”

A signal. A whistle.

More figures emerged.

Not assassins. Armed men. Guns.

His shoulders tensed.

He could keep fighting, but…

He was injured. So was she.

And this time, they weren’t alone.

They were surrounded.

“Enough games,” the man said. “It’s time to stop running, old friend.”

She turned to him, heart pounding. Friend?

He didn’t deny it.

Instead, he exhaled sharply and, for the first time — dropped his weapon.

She froze.

He was surrendering.

Before she could protest, a soldier grabbed her arms, yanking her away.

He flinched. The first real sign of fear she had ever seen on him.

“Don’t touch her,” he snarled, voice raw.

The silver-haired man just smirked.

“Oh, I think we will,” he murmured. “After all — she deserves to know the truth.”

She struggled. “What truth?”

The man looked at her.

And then —

“That this is not the first time he has betrayed you.”

Her body went cold.

Betrayed?

She turned to him, heart hammering. “What is he talking about?”

He didn’t answer.

Because he already knew.

This was only the beginning.