> "What do you mean, Leo? Is something wrong?"
His fingers hovered over the screen, searching for words to satisfy her without revealing too much. She deserved an explanation, but he couldn’t give her one. Not about this world, not about the shadows he moved through daily.
> "It’s late, Mina. Go home and rest. Don’t worry about me."
There was a longer pause before her next message arrived, and he could almost feel her frustration through the screen.
> "I thought we agreed to care about each other, Leo. Even if this engagement is just pretend."
He closed his eyes, emotions simmering beneath his stoic exterior. He didn’t want her tangled up in this life, didn’t want her close to his shadows. But he knew the truth: he cared about her. Too much.
After another long hesitation, he typed a response, fingers moving more slowly this time.
> "Mina, I didn’t expect you to put this much trust in me. I mean, I’ve always said just the right things to other girls, haven’t I? You’ve seen how politely I turned down that escort girl in Paris."
A silence fell, then finally a single line from her appeared on the screen.
> "You’re right, Leo. I’m sorry."
Leo stared at the message, feeling the weight of her words press against the walls he’d built around himself. Her trust had struck deeper than he’d anticipated, and as he sat there, he realized just how far he’d let her in—how much he’d let her mean to him.
*
After Leo arrived at the Black Salvator headquarters, he could feel the weight of the world pressing down on him. The air was thick with the smell of gun oil and metal, the sounds of machinery clanking as his men assembled weapons for their latest deal. 
He passed them without a glance, his mind a swirling storm of anger and regret.
As he entered his private office, he slammed the door behind him, the echo reverberating through the dimly lit room. The walls were adorned with blueprints and plans for their operations, but they felt suffocating to him now. 
He grabbed his firearm from the desk, and in a surge of pent-up emotion, he unleashed a torrent of gunfire at the walls. Bullets ricocheted, splintering wood and sending dust into the air, the noise drowning out his unspoken thoughts.
“Damn it! Damn it all!” he shouted, his voice raw and desperate as he fired round after round. Each shot felt like a release, each impact a way to let loose the rage boiling inside him. The men outside paused, casting nervous glances at one another but too fearful to interrupt their boss in this state.
Leo’s heart raced, but beneath the fury lay a deeper turmoil. He paused, panting, and the weight of his actions began to settle in. He dropped to his knees, gun clattering to the floor, and pressed his hands against his chest as if trying to physically restrain the guilt clawing at him.
“I hate him,” he gasped, his voice thick with emotion. “I hate Rudolf for everything he’s done, for every damn word he spoke tonight. But more than that…” He bowed his head, forehead resting against the cold floor. “I hate myself.”
In that moment of vulnerability, the door creaked open, and one of his trusted lieutenants, Marco, peeked in, concern etched across his face. “Boss…?”
Leo lifted his head, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Get out!” he snapped, bitterness roughening his voice, slicing through the heavy silence. “I can’t deal with this right now.”
Leo lifted his head, his eyes hard and bright, the bitterness in his voice cutting like glass. “Get out,” he snapped. “I don’t need anyone right now.”
Marco hesitated, searching his face, then nodded once and closed the door behind him.
Alone in the silence, memories surged forward, sharp and unforgiving. It was the night of the Alkasia war, the brutal struggle for territory.
 Leo remembered every second—the rain pouring down, the thud of footsteps, the cold weight of his gun in his hand. 
…
…
…
He had led his men through the Alkasia stronghold, methodical and relentless, but Roy, the head of Alkasia, had been ready. Leo’s father was the bait, and Leo, determined to win, had walked right into the trap.
As the thunder rumbled outside, rain pelted down, and smoke hung thick in the air. Leo moved through the Alkasia stronghold, his team following close behind, weapons drawn, every step calculated, precise. His jaw was set, his focus razor-sharp; they were finally closing in on Roy.
But when he reached the heart of the stronghold, there it was—the trap. His father, bound to a chair in the middle of the dimly lit room, blood staining his face but eyes still blazing. Leo froze, dread pooling in his stomach.
“Leo.” His father’s voice was rough but steady, the command in it unmistakable. “You shouldn’t have come.”
Leo’s throat tightened. “I had to,” he replied, scanning the room, assessing every angle, every possible way out. “I’m not leaving without you.”
From the shadows, a low, mocking laugh echoed. Roy stepped forward, his smile cold and triumphant. “Touching, Leo. Really. But predictable.” He looked down at Leo’s father, tilting his head. “Your son really does take after you. Same stubborn foolishness.”
Leo tightened his grip on his weapon. “Let him go, Roy. This is between you and me.”
Roy smirked. “Oh, but it’s not. You see, your father here was the one obstacle in my way. I couldn’t miss the opportunity to make this personal.” He leaned in, his voice dropping. “But you didn’t come prepared for that, did you?”
Leo’s father lifted his head, his gaze meeting Leo’s. His expression softened just slightly, a flicker of something in his eyes—regret, pride, a warning. He gave the smallest shake of his head, a silent plea for Leo to leave, to let him go.
“Dad…” Leo’s voice was barely above a whisper.
“Leo, listen to me.” His father’s tone was firm, the finality in it unmistakable. “This isn’t your fight anymore. Take your men and go. Protect the family.”
But Leo couldn’t look away, couldn’t back down. “No,”