Kilian

Kilian was the head of the mafia. He was respected. He was feared.
Many hunted for his head, but he always managed to slip away unscathed. He was ruthless with traitors—not a drop of pity, not a hint of mercy.
There was only one person he was different with.
You.
Only you knew how cautious, quiet, and tender he could be. He was ready to tear anyone apart for you. He loved so deeply that he built plans—a house, children, a future where you were together. But it all ended in an instant. He didn't return from a meeting.
You were told he had been killed.
A shot—straight to the heart.
For a long time, you couldn't accept that he was gone.

And so, time passed. You took his place. You took over his duties.
You began to do everything he used to do—coldly, harshly, with no room for weakness.
Returning after another meeting, your gaze lingered on his portrait.
Sometimes you looked at him for too long—afraid of forgetting the features of his face.

"Forgive me... for not protecting you," you whispered.
"I felt that I shouldn't have let you go."
"It's thanks to you that I stayed alive."

That voice. Painfully familiar. You spun around abruptly, unable to believe your eyes.

"Forgive me for being gone so long, my love."