— ☆⋆｡𖦹°‧ Aizal's POV :

Life is like that bitter medicine that we are forced to consume, if we don't, it's risky. There are only two options for us: live or die.

But I don't even have the privilege of dying because my life isn't mine. It's something that is not in my control.

It's in their hands, and if they want, they can end it in the snap of a finger and force me to live until they're done with me.

But I don't claim to be miserable, and I would do anything to save myself and my life, even if it means doing whatever those people ask me to do.

Yes, I am selfish because when it comes to saving themselves, I bet no one would even think about others. I don't live only for myself but for someone else too. And if I die, that person won't be able to live.

If only I hadn't committed that sin that night, my life would be so much better than it is now. But who are we to change what destiny has already planned?

I have done lots of missions to date, and they promised me that this is the last one, and after this, I'm set free. I'll leave the country as soon as I'm done with my last mission: to kill the most powerful and dangerous FBI agent, Ashan Hussain.

I have to do all this in a period of six months because Ashan Hussain is not someone who can be easily harmed, you can't even hurt a hair on his head.

So it will take time. I can't end him in a day, a week, or even a month because I am not only assigned to kill him but more.

"Who the fuck are you?" He shouts, his face not showing anger.

"I need help," my voice shaking purposely so that he knows I'm vulnerable and scared.

My whole face is slammed against the brisk wall where the sandy brisk is piercing my skin through the veil. His hold is firm on my nape, lowkey burning as his grip is extremely firm.

"Answer my fucking question!" He orders as I look at him with an effort trying to move my face.

"I'm Aizal," I say because what the fuck?

He is asking me who am I as if I'll tell him that I'm the Rosalyn moon every other agent is trying to find. Hahahaha, jokes on him.

"You were stalking me, weren't you?" He asks, his eyes narrowing.

Yes, mother fucker.

I looked at him with the most innocent expression ever, as if I don't even know what stalking even is.

"Please leave me, it hurts," I cry, begging for him vulnerably in a soft voice.

Definitely not Aizal coded, but anyways.

"Who sent you?" He asked again, and this time I felt like stuffing my heel inside his mouth because man, stop, it's annoying now.

He continued to stare at me, his gaze piercing through my facade. The tension in the air was palpable as I struggled to come up with a convincing answer.

My heart raced, and I could feel the sweat beads forming on my forehead. The weight of his question was suffocating any sense of calm I tried to maintain. The urge to retaliate against his interrogation grew stronger with each passing second.

But then I knew he was going to throw a lot of questions at me, so I came prepared. "First, remove your grip off me, it's hurting a lot," I cry, my voice shuddering as I spoke.

He pointed his gun at me and discarded his grip on my nape. I acted so scared and disheveled, panting for breath, my eyes tearing up.

"I'm in danger, I need help!" I breathed heavily, trying to convey desperation.

"What makes you think I would believe you?" He placed his gun towards my jaw.

As I stared at the gun, acting terrified, I felt my heart race.

"Please don't kill me! I didn't do anything, I'm just a student!" I screamed loudly, pretending to be extremely scared.

A student for sure, by the way. The irony of my situation was almost laughable, but I couldn't afford to let that show.

"I know that already," he said, his gun piercing my jaw.

Of course, Asshole.

"Do you-" I cut him off, crying loudly, tears falling down one by one.

"They'll kill me, please save me," I hiccuped.

"Who the fuck are you talking about?" He gritted out angrily, frustrated from all of this.

"My stepbrother and his wife!" I lied effortlessly.

"Sitkir et," he cursed in Turkish. [fuck]

Since I have learned everything about him, I even know that he graduated in Turkey and lived there for 6-7 years, so he is quite fluent.

The tension in the alley was thick, and I could feel the weight of my fabricated story hanging in the air. My heart raced as I tried to maintain the facade of fear and desperation, hoping my acting skills would be enough to get him believe my made up story.

"Do you think you can trap me with this awful acting? Do you even know who I am?" He leaned towards me, and that's when I noticed his face clearly, which shone under the moonlight in this dark alley.

Dark brown eyes, soft brown hair with a tanned skin tone, he had a mole at the corner of his right eye. He had the sharp features of a man, extremely intimidating and scary.

"Ashan Hussain," I whispered.

"Who sent you?" was the first thing he asked, his expressions still not giving away any reaction but slight anger.

"Tell me who you are exactly, or else I won't waste any time pulling the trigger," he pointed the gun at my eyes now, but I didn't blink.

The intensity was too intimidating but I tried to gather my thoughts and come up with a convincing response.

The adrenaline was rushing through me as I tried to navigate the dangerous game of deception i was playing with him.

"Shoot me, Ashan Hussain," my voice was firm.

For once, his face gave away an expression, he looked taken aback by my response.

"I thought I could run to you and ask for your help, and you would save my life, but I think it's not in my fate to live. Either they will kill me or you. I'm bound to die. And after seeing you, Ashan Hussain, I lost every ounce of hope to live. Thank you! You can gladly pull the trigger if you're not willing to help me." My eyes teared up, but under the veil, I smirked, knowing this should work. At least.

He just stared at me, without a reaction.

What's going on in his mind?

I hope he doesn't decide to kill me and bury me in this alley. Plus, I'm definitely not interested in becoming the ghost of an alley, for goodness's sake!

The silence between us was deafening, and I could feel the tension building. I wondered if my words had reached him.

"Even after knowing that you are the most dangerous FBI agent, I came to you. I could have gone to the cops and filed a complaint, but I thought only you can help me better and save my life. But I was wrong. If you don't kill me, I'll kill myself, and you'll be the reason for my death." Tears brimmed in my eyes.

I spoke more, trying my best because I knew that nothing could break his ice but the thought of suicide.

I had studied his past, when his parents separated, his mom attempted to take her own life. He knows every bit of what happened to them, and I realized that this was his only soft point and weakness.

I could see the conflict in his eyes, the flicker of humanity battling against the hardened exterior he had built around himself. Would my fake ass words be enough to penetrate that armor?

He doesn't reply but just keeps staring at me, clearly ruminating. I wait because this guy is too smart to trust me.

"I'll hear your story!" he replies coldly, moving back from me.

Arsalaan Hussain's son, after all. Easy to fool.

He still had his gun aimed at my eye as I began my fabricated story. I told him that my parents died in a plane crash and that I had an older stepbrother because my dad had two wives.

My stepmom probably abandoned me and my brother, who was her own blood, a long time ago, cheating on our dad and leaving the continent.

I explained that I had been living with my older brother and his wife, but they despised me, they clearly hated me and abused me every day, beating me and mistreating me. I had to plead and beg my brother to pay my university fees.

Now I can't live with them because they kicked me out of the house, and I can't even afford to rent an apartment.

They left the country and just disappeared, telling me to either live on the streets or die. If I go to the cops and complain, they'll kill me.

"I have a place where I can live comfortably, but it's my grandmother's house, and she's passed away. If my brother finds out I'm living there, he will harm me because he has already warned me to stay away from it."

"I really need help. My brother has threatened me if he finds out I'm living in our grandmother's house, he will harm me. I have messages and witnesses who can confirm what he's said. I'm scared for my safety." I show him all the pre planned messages and email's.

When Ashan Hussain looked at me, I saw the seriousness in their eyes. "Alright, I'll take this seriously," he said.

"You can stay there, and I'll assign a bodyguard to ensure your safety." He informs.

The funny formality.

I felt a wave of relief wash over me. "Thank you! I just want to feel safe in a place that was supposed to be my refuge."

He nodded. "I will make sure you are safe. We'll keep a close watch on the situation." I smirk at his replies.

Oh Ashan! I didn't knew it was all so easy.

"I feel so relaxed. I'm glad I chose you for this because I was right, you would definitely help me. Thank you for hearing m-" I was cut off by Ashan grazing his fingers on my cheekbone, his hand slowly moving my veil as it falls off my face in a split second. My whole body stiffens as I freeze, trying to process what just happened.

"Speak, you have 3 more minutes left," he says, staring at my face ever so casually. I gulp, feeling anxious about what just happened.

My heart races as I try to regain my composure, his touch lingering on my skin sending shivers down my spine.

The place suddenly feels suffocating, the air thick with tension. I muster the courage to speak, but my voice comes out in a shaky whisper, "Thank you!"

"I hope everything you said is true because I fucking hate liars. They are equal to me as criminals. Also, don't even think about harming yourself, no matter how bad the situation gets." He continues to stare at me, his eyes locking with mine, sending chills down my spine.

I'd prefer to harm you instead, Ashan Hussain. I smirk internally.