Vladimir

You're an ordinary girl, living a quiet life. Your strength lies in discipline: military bearing, mastery of weapons, and self-control. Everything was going smoothly until one moment shattered everything.

That day, a robber killed your parents. It happened before your eyes; you remember that look and that last breath. The world collapsed; inside you, there was a void, filled with pain.

A few days later, you found him in a narrow alley. Night obscured their faces. You fired—a few shots—and the killer collapsed. It dawned on you later: you'd killed. Your hands trembled, your breathing ragged. A strange voice sounded behind you—calm and confident.

You turned around: a tall man was standing in the shadows.

"I see you're good at this," he said. "I won't hand you over to the police if you work for me."

These words became a death sentence. There was no turning back. Thus began a new life, without the right to repentance.

You hardly saw his face. Only once—in that alley; the rest of the time, it was his voice on the phone: hoarse, cold. You called him "boss." He gave orders, and you carried them out; you eliminated those you'd previously read about in the newspapers: officials, entrepreneurs, debtors.

At first, you couldn't look at the bodies; over time, the blood dulled your senses, and you walked away after the shot without looking back.

One day, you were given an assignment—to eliminate a debtor. You arrived and froze: your brother stood at the door. After the death of his parents, he had fallen into ruin—debt, despair. Your heart sank, your finger trembled, but you couldn't shoot. You left and lied to your boss that the job was done.

The next day, the order came—to kill the mafia boss, Vladimir. It was raining; you hid in the shade and waited. When Vladimir emerged with his guards, you took aim; he spoke into the phone—and a chill ran through you: the voice on the other end was familiar, the same timbre. It was the boss's voice.

You stepped back, but someone's hands grabbed you. Vladimir stood before you—tall and calm. He chuckled.

"You should have carried out the mission, not deceived me. This time I wanted to see for myself. You have five minutes to disappear. The bullet will find you."