❌WARNING: MATURE CONTENT❌
27 year old Archer Stark is an assassin, he works for no one besides himself, and one night he's sent to kill a girl.
24 year old Violet Moon is a Socialite, she's a trophy wife rich girl, and she had no idea she was on som...
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I love you.
It's just three words, eight letters, and sometimes a period. Maybe a question mark depending how you say it.
But still, just three words.
Yet they enveloped Archers mind, invaded and wrapped around every thought, every memory, of Donavan, Violet, his family.
Tangled up in his web of darkness and twisted brain, that he forgot the meaning, forget how to say them, or even form those eight letters into three words.
It felt impossible for his brain to figure out.
Until that fiery head of blond hair and emerald eyes fell into his lap. Then suddenly those three words started looking like her, smelling like her, feeling like her.
Archer could barely even think of her without feeling that tangled mess of those three words burn bright in his heart. His very broken heart.
It almost felt like a heat attack, like those feelings could kill him.
Terrifying, his heart would beat faster and his blood seemed to turn to ice. Breathless, he was left utterly breathless in her presence.
Archer wondered if this is what his victims felt like seconds before their death, and he also wondered if Violet knew that she held the power to make him feel like this.
Seconds before death if he didn't get her in his arms.
And he couldn't figure it out, he was feeling all this, feeling those three words like fire in his veins, and yet it was harder to crack then da Vinci's code.
So he ran away, for a week.
Chased away by grief and eight letters.
He didn't know what to do without that old man. He raised him practically, and as much as Archer put a professional front up around him and cold demeanor.
He raised him. He needed him.
But now he was gone, and Archer was faced with the reality that he couldn't save Donavan that night.
And what if another night came along where he couldn't save Violet.
Terrified he couldn't save the people he lo-
There's those three words again.
Burning. Burning even brighter, closing up his throat with a panic to figure them out.
Now he was planning a funeral for the first time since he's started causing them.
