He had grown up without parents, raised by traffickers.

A child who survived not by strength, but by cunning.

Sweet-talking his way out of mutilation, out of being turned into something less than human.

His world had always been cruel.

So cruel that even he didn't realize—

how desperately he wanted someone gentle.

As a criminal, he was brilliant—decisive, cold, relentless.

But as a lover?

He was almost… naive.

Too easily drawn to warmth.

Too eager to please.

Pretending not to care, while every emotion betrayed him in the smallest flicker of his eyes.

I wasn't even good at love.

But with a little psychology—

I learned how to hold him.

How to make him fall.

Then came the news.

"Detective Jane… your nephew has been hospitalized."

My mind went blank in the car as the officer read the report.

Multiple injection marks.

Arm. Wrist. Inner thigh.

High-dose heroin.

He was in surgery.

Adrian's revenge—

had begun.

My cousin's screams echoed in my ears.

In the evidence bag in my hand—

there was a note.

Don't you dare stop loving me.

"Don't you get it?!" I snapped at Ethan outside the hospital.

"He's targeting me! As long as I stay hidden, he'll keep hurting people!"

My voice trembled despite myself.

"They're suffering because of me!"

Ethan sighed.

But I understood.

That look in his eyes—

He made a decision.

If Adrian wanted me—

then I would be the bait.

But before the plan was fully set—

he made the first move.

At 3 a.m., we received an anonymous email.

Deliver me—bound and blindfolded—to an abandoned factory in the eastern suburbs.

Or five bombs in the city center would detonate.

The operation was massive.

Armored vehicles.

Snipers.

Drones.

Tracking devices hidden on me.

If he showed up—

he wouldn't leave alive.

That night—

everything went wrong.

The first explosion wasn't in the city.

It was in the forest.

Gunfire followed.

Chaos spread instantly.

This wasn't stealth.

This was war.

And then—

gas.

I tried to free myself, but it was too late.

The world blurred.

As I collapsed—

the blindfold slipped.

And I saw—

a pair of black shoes.

"I've missed you."

When I woke—

I was already his.

Adrian stood over me, dressed in black as always.

A syringe pressed against my arm.

I watched him inject it.

"Heroin," he said softly.

"Don't worry. Just a little."

He wasn't trying to kill me.

He was breaking me.

Days blurred together.

I couldn't leave the room.

Couldn't call for help.

Every night, he returned—

bringing gifts he thought I'd like.

Not knowing—

everything I had ever liked—

was designed for him.

The second injection nearly broke me.

The third—

I understood.

He wasn't punishing me.

He was making me dependent.

On him.

When withdrawal hit, it felt like dying.

My body tore itself apart from the inside.

I curled on the bed, shaking—

until he appeared.

"Want it?" he asked gently.

"Beg me."

And I did.

Because survival—

comes before pride.

From that moment on—

he knew.

I would never leave him.

He even forged a marriage certificate.

"You'd never agree to marry me," he said lightly.

"So I did it for us."

Sometimes, I thought—

maybe I should just stay.

Drift like this forever.

Sometimes—

I thought about dying.

Just to hurt him.

But I didn't.

Because I'm not the weak one.

Then one day—

he said he was leaving.

"If this works… we'll go abroad. Start over."

Start over?

With a drug lord?

That's when I made my decision.

I called him.

My voice trembling.

"Adrian… I don't feel well…"

"I'm scared…"

"Please come back… it's my birthday…"

There was shouting on the other end.

He was about to board a plane.

He hesitated.

Just for a few seconds.

Then he chose—

me.

I hung up.

Picked up the gasoline by the door.

And poured it across the floor.

When he burst in—

I threw myself into his arms.

He froze.

Then softened.

"Of course…" he murmured.

He didn't even look at the gasoline.

Or the lighter in my hand.

"I was afraid you'd run again," I whispered.

"So this time…"

"I'll take you with me."

The flame fell.

Fire spread instantly.

Even then—

he asked me:

"Did you ever love me?"

I touched his face.

Smiled.

"My love…"

"Was never you."

And still—

he held me tighter.

Shielding me from the flames.

"Cruel girl…"

"But I loved you."

And in the end—

the fire took us both.

Somewhere in the distance—

I thought I saw my father.

Waiting.

Alive—

earning that medal is hard.

But maybe—

this counts too.

END