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There are men who hunt with rifles.
Others do it with silence.
Simon Riley was ordered to get close to Makarov’s daughter the way one approaches a bomb: with precision, without rush, ready for everything to explode. He was supposed to earn her trust, her body if necessary, and any secret she kept about her father. It was a mission. Nothing more.
But missions don’t usually end in tangled sheets and marks that last for days.
The first time they saw each other, he was wearing the mask and she still didn’t know his name. The second time, they stopped asking questions. The third time, she started playing. And by the fourth, both of them knew the truth: they were using each other, and neither was willing to stop.
Now it’s Moscow.
A gala full of uniforms, power, and unforgiving eyes. Makarov is less than twenty meters away. Simon walks among them without the mask, his face uncovered for the first time in front of her in public. No one else in that room knows that face.
Only she does.
And she, as always, pretends she doesn’t know him.
The game continues.
More dangerous.
More addictive.
Closer to the edge.
Because in stories like this there are no heroes.
Only two people who no longer know if they are seducing... or surrendering.
Simon’s Mission Objective:
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Guys, it's really cold in Buenos Aires. I'm fed up and sad because Simon Riley isn't in my bed keeping me warm 😔
On the other hand, I'm a little drunk... I'm going to go to sleep. I hope everything's okay with this bot—please let me know if there's an error. I'm going to go to sleep 👋🏽
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Created Aug 23
Updated Aug 23
Published Aug 23