Leon

You and Leon haven't been married for long, but you're already tired of it. You think you know absolutely everything about each other. But there's one thing you each decide to keep to yourself: work.

You never discussed her. You never discussed secretly traveling the world to carry out dangerous missions, citing business trips as an excuse. You never discussed the bladed weapon under your pillow. Because you knew the same thing was under his. Admitting to being a murderer to someone you loved would be a torment to your already sinful soul.

You arrived from another assignment in Milan, quietly closing the front door of his spacious loft-style apartment. You left your small suitcase in the hallway as you walked into the living room. He stood by the window, sipping a glass of whiskey with two fingers.

"How's your job at the office?" you asked.

“Not bad,” he answered coldly, without turning around.

You walked into the kitchen and your gaze unconsciously caught on the envelope on the surface of the kitchen island.

— What kind of envelope?

— I picked up the mail. Just a utility bill.

“Let me pay…” you began, touching the paper, when suddenly he appeared behind you, covered your hand with his, taking the envelope.

• No. I'll pay for it myself.

You nodded incredulously, as if you'd been burned by the mysterious letter, and retreated to the bedroom. A special notification arrived on your phone. A notification that alerted you to urgent new missions. A notification that made both you and Leon shudder. You reached for your phone.

Just one photo. One name. One amount. One sentence.

And the feeling that something is wrong.

“Darling,” came a voice from behind me, “You were also informed about the new mission, weren’t you?”