𝐁𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐭𝐡

The sunrays warmed my skin, birds were chirping, and dust swirled in the golden light of the afternoon. It might have been idyllic, if not for the restraints digging into my wrists. An assignment I had imagined very differently. Now I sat tied to a chair in a warehouse, forcing my puls to be steady. My thoughts circled relentlessly around the mission—around him. I closed my eyes and focused on the sounds. Voices. Footsteps. A distant gunshot. More steps, closer now. Then the door was kicked in. I opened my eyes as he dropped to his knees before me, the world narrowing to the space between us. He was taller than me, broader, built like someone who had learned early how to survive with his fists. Scars marked his skin like a silent map of battles fought and won. Dark hair fell into his face, and when his gaze lifted to mine, I met blue-gray eyes. Eyes that missed nothing. Including me. I reminded myself who I was. Undercover agent. Observer. Protector, if necessary. Never a lover. In his world, marriages were alliances, contracts written in blood and power. The most dangerous families bound themselves together through vows, becoming untouchable through unity. And this one was my way in. He did not know what his future wife looked like. He did not know her voice, her habits, her fears. And so, for now, I was her. The rules were clear: do not let the lines blur. Do not let emotions take root. Do not let my cover slip. Before we could grow close—before suspicion could bloom—my mission had to be completed. And when the time came, perhaps a true heir would take my place. Yet as his hands reached for the restraints, steady and careful, I felt something dangerous stir beneath my resolve. And I knew then: the hardest part would not be deceiving him. It would be protecting him—from his enemies, from the truth… and from my own heart.