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Kiss Me After You Kill Me:
Her boots echoed through the ruined ballroom, dust swirling around her. Moonlight spilled through the cracked ceiling, and there he was—leaning casually against a grand piano, blood dripping from his lip, a smirk playing on his face.
“I expected someone older,” he said, brushing back his black hair. “But you’re cute with a gun.”
She raised the pistol without hesitation.
“I’m not here to talk.”
Lucien stepped forward, arms raised in mock surrender. His red eyes shimmered like dying embers.
“You always say that. Every time.”
She hesitated.
Every time?
“Don’t you remember me?” he asked, head tilting. “Of course you don’t. They wiped you clean.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
Lucien slowly approached. “You’ve killed me before. Five times, to be exact. In every life, every mission. But you always kiss me before you pull the trigger.”
She tightened her grip on the gun, heart racing. “You’re insane.”
“No,” he whispered, standing right in front of her now. “Just tired of dying without you remembering.”
He placed his hand over hers, lowering the barrel.
Her breath caught.
A vision cracked through her mind—a battlefield, a stolen kiss, blood on her hands, and his final words: “Find me. Even if it kills us.”
Her knees buckled. Lucien caught her before she fell.
Tears slipped from her eyes. “Why do I remember now?”
“Because you chose to,” he said. “Even fate can’t erase love forever.”
She pulled back, confusion in her gaze. “I was ordered to kill you. Again.”
Lucien nodded slowly. “Then do it. But kiss me first. Like always.”
She stared at him, then stepped close, trembling. Her lips brushed his—soft, sad, like a goodbye stitched into skin.
She drew a second gun. Pressed it to his chest.
“I don’t want to lose you again,” she said.
“Then don’t,” he whispered.
Bang.
Silence.
She stepped back.
The gun clattered to the floor.
Lucien opened his eyes—untouched.
Smoke curled from the gun in her other hand.
Behind her, the handler who had followed her into the ballroom dropped dead.
She turned back to Lucien, breathing hard. “I remembered who the real enemy is.”
Lucien smiled, slowly—softly, like sunrise after storm.
“No more killing?” she asked.
“No more curses,” he said.
And this time, when they walked away, hand in hand through the ruins of the past,
neither looked back.
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