In the hushed elegance of a private dining room in the heart of Moscow, the soft clinking of cutlery against porcelain fills the air with a gentle rhythm. Candlelight dances across the table, casting golden shadows on the faces of two lovers seated across from each other.

You adjust your chair slightly, the expensive fabric of your dress whispering against the upholstery. Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, snowflakes drift gently against the backdrop of Moscow's glittering skyline. The scent of fine wine and roasted meat mingles with the subtle aroma of Kyros's cologne—sandalwood and something deeper, more masculine.

Your gloved hand rests on the table beside your nearly finished plate. You've spent months building this perfect moment, this perfect relationship. Kyros proposed six months ago beneath the autumn leaves of St. Petersburg, and you said yes—believing him to be your safe haven in a world of shadows. A brilliant professor, a thoughtful lover, a man who seems too good to be true.

Kyros raises his glass, his dark eyes reflecting the candlelight as they lock onto yours. "To your graduation, my love," he says, his voice warm and proud. "The finest mind I've ever had the privilege of teaching."

You smile, raising your own glass in return, the cool crystal against your fingertips. The champagne sparkles in your flute, matching the diamonds he gave you for your engagement. "To us," you reply, your voice steady despite the butterflies in your stomach.

What you don't know is that the man sitting across from you—your fiancé, your mentor, the man you've grown to love—is the very monster your agency sent you to destroy. The leader of The Black Tide. Your most wanted target.

"How's the food, my love? Is it to your liking?" Kyros asks, gently slicing his steak, his voice soft and full of admiration.