I never thought much about how I'd die—not seriously, anyway.

You don't, not when you've spent most of your life outliving your enemies.

Death's just a shadow on the edges, always there but never something you let touch you.

But if I had thought about it. I wouldn't have pictured this.

My heart pounded like war drums, my breathing ragged under the weight of my gear.

Across the room, the target smirked, smug and certain he'd already won. Bastard had a knife in one hand and the other gripping her neck, enough to apply pressure for her breath but he would squeeze her out if she scream or say a word. And she was bound to a chair behind him. Her head lolling forward like a rag doll, her breathing too shallow for my liking.

It wasn't supposed to go like this.

I'd come in prepared to kill and get her out. Simple. Direct. Ruthless. That's how I operated. But one look at her—at the way her lip bled, her wrists rubbed raw against the bindings—and everything inside me twisted into something desperate.

This wasn't just another op anymore.

This was her.

The only person who made me feel like there was more to life than duty.

She was half my age, for fuck's sake, but it didn't matter because I want her.

When she entered my life, she unearthed all of the buried emotions I never thought I would feel again, about wanting someone enough to stand here and face down death with a grin on that bastard's face.

"You're out of options," the target said. He toyed with the knife in his hand, like he had all the time in the world. "You've got one shot before I finish what I started with her. You ready to take it?"

I clenched my jaw, my fingers tightening around the grip of my firearm—a SIG Sauer P320, equipped with a suppressor.

Every fiber of my being screamed at me to pull the trigger, but I couldn't risk it. Not yet. Not while he was close enough to her that even a stray shot might—

"Let her go," I growled, the sound of a man with nothing left to lose. "You want me? I'm right here."

He chuckled, like I'd just told him the funniest joke.

"Ah, but where's the fun in that? No, I think I'll make you watch before I put you down like the dog you are."

Three.

My finger shifted to the trigger.

"Go ahead, old man. Take your shot. I'm close and I'll slice her." The target dared me too.

Two.

His grip on the knife tightened as he moved it closer to her neck.

Her eyes were wide and full of fear. She didn't speak—she couldn't—but the silent plea was there.

I locked eyes with her, willing her to trust me, to hold on for just a few more seconds.

"Please," she whimpered and cried as the bastard jerked her head back by her hair, exposing her throat to the cold steel.

"Shut up," he hissed at her. The blade pressing just enough to make a thin red line appear on her skin.

My stomach churned at the sight, but I kept my mind set on him.

"Easy," I said, deceptively calm. "You hurt her, and I'll make you regret you were born."

The bastard laughed again, that mocking sound grate against my nerves.

"Oh, you're the scary one? Let's see how tough you really are when she starts screaming."

One.

My finger tightened on the trigger as my breathing slowed, everything narrowing down to this moment.

Time's up, fuckhead.

The suppressed shot barely made a sound, just a soft hiss as the bullet left the chamber.

It was a clean shot.

The bullet hit its mark dead center—his forehead.

His expression froze for a split second before his body crumpled. The knife falling from his hand as he hit the ground like a puppet with its strings cut.

She screamed after the shot. And when she turned around and saw the body on the ground. She whipped her head back to me, tears streamed down her face as if she was trying to process what just happened.

I was already moving, crossing the room in long strides. The SIG Sauer was still raised, my eyes scanning for any threats. Clear.

I holstered the weapon before pulling out my knife and crouched in front of her. My hands went straight to the ropes binding her wrists.

"Hey," I said, my voice softer now but urgent. "It's okay. He's dead."

Her tear-filled eyes met mine.

"You... how..."

"I've got you," I interrupted gently, freeing her hands. "It's over."

She collapsed forward into me, her arms wrapped around me like I was her lifeline. Her face buried to me and she began to sob. My hand went to the back of her head, holding her close as something in me broke. Relief. Love.

I'd have done it all again—would always do it again—just to keep her safe.

I'd never thought I'd die for someone, not like this.

But for her? I'd face death a thousand times over.