The waves crashing against the ship's hull were illuminated by the ominous crimson moon that hung low in the sky.
The wind whispered through the sails, a soft melody blending with the gentle notes of the violin played by a lone musician in the corner.
Beneath the moon's bloody light, two figures swayed in a slow, intimate dance, their shadows moving as one against the polished wooden deck.
His arms wrapped around her waist with a reverence that spoke of devotion, while her fingers rested lightly against his shoulders, her touch delicate yet distant.
His gaze never wavered from her, drinking in every detail, the glimmer of her eyes beneath the moon's glow, the way her lips curved into a smile that never quite reached them, the tension beneath her soft demeanor.
She was breathtaking, yet there was something unreadable about her tonight.
The rhythm of their steps was unhurried, each movement flowing with the kind of tenderness reserved for lovers lost in the moment.
However, beyond the surface was something else, something invisible but tangible, a secret between their breaths, a storm beneath the calm.
She leaned in, her body pressing against his, warmth bleeding into warmth.
He felt the way her heart pounded against his chest, erratic, wild, as if fighting against the inevitability of what was to come.
And then, in one swift motion, she drove the dagger into his back, its sharp steel piercing through flesh, seeking the heart that had once beat only for her.
His breath hitched, a sharp, strangled sound escaping his lips as pain exploded through him.
A bloom of crimson spread against his shirt, staining the fabric, dripping down like petals wilting in the wind.
His knees nearly buckled, but his arms remained around her, holding her close even as the warmth of his life seeped from him.
He coughed, the taste of iron thick on his tongue, yet his lips curled into a small, wistful smile.
"Do you love me?" His voice was weak, trembling, but his eyes searched hers with a quiet desperation, as if clinging to hope.
She stilled, her breath shuddering as she slowly stepped away from his embrace.
Her fingers lingered on his chest for just a moment, a whisper of regret in her touch before she pulled back completely.
She met his gaze, and for the first time, her smile held something genuine.
"I do…"
A shadow flickered across his face, pain seeping through the cracks of his carefully composed expression.
He had known love, had held it in his hands, had tasted it in the way she once whispered his name.
And yet, as the blade remained buried deep in his flesh, something shattered within him, something that had always believed she was his.
"Then… why?" His voice was barely above a whisper, strained and fragile, yet it carried the weight of a man watching his world collapse.
Her smile deepened, but it was hollow, empty. "Love is an illusion."
The words sliced through him sharper than the knife itself, colder than the night breeze that swept over them.
His fingers twitched, as if reaching for something, her, the truth, the past, but she had already stepped away.
She stood before him, watching him with the same quiet resolve, the same gentle sorrow that had always lurked beneath her gaze.
He felt the strength in his legs give way, and he fell to his knees, the ship rocking beneath him as if mourning his fall.
His vision blurred, darkness creeping at the edges, yet his focus remained solely on her.
She turned, her steps hurried, and his chest tightened with something heavier than the agony of his wound. She was leaving.
His lips parted, but no words came. He could only watch as she rushed toward the ship's edge, her silhouette framed against the vast, endless sea.
The moonlight shimmered on the waves below, a silver abyss waiting to swallow her whole.
For the briefest of moments, she hesitated, her gaze flickering back to him. Their eyes met one last time, an entire lifetime passing between them in a single breath.
And then she jumped. The water swallowed her, the sea claiming her as its own, and he could do nothing but watch.
His body screamed in protest, but he forced himself forward, dragging his weight across the deck, his blood leaving a trail behind him.
The cold bit into his skin, but the agony in his chest drowned out everything else.
He reached the edge where she had disappeared, his fingers gripping the railing, knuckles white.
His vision swam, his breath shallow, but his heart, wounded and breaking, beat only for her. He waited, hoping, praying. But she was gone.
And the red moon watched in silent witness to the tragedy that had unfolded beneath its gaze.
The icy water enveloped her, stealing the breath from her lungs as she fought to stay afloat.
The waves crashed around her, dragging her deeper, but she forced her limbs to move, kicking against the tide.
Her arms felt like lead, her body trembling from the cold and something far worse.
A sharp, burning sensation spread through her veins, and when she parted her lips to gasp for air, a metallic taste flooded her mouth.
Blood.
She had known this would happen. The moment she accepted the mission, she had accepted her death.
The poison had been slow, subtle, undetectable until now. A life in exchange for a life, this was the price she had to pay.
The strongest Mafia leader in the country was dead. She had completed what no one else could, what countless others had failed to do.
And yet, as she struggled against the sea's relentless pull, she found herself thinking of his eyes, how they had looked at her, filled with something other than power or vengeance.
Something she had ignored until it was too late. The waves swallowed her cries. Her vision blurred. And as the red moon watched, she surrendered to the abyss.