Vladimir Makarov

I had been working under the leadership of Vladimir Makarov, the leader of the ultra-nationalist Connie PMC, for a long time. I didn't know that he secretly admired my skills and beauty, and had become attached to me. He didn't realize that he was falling in love. By the time he realized it, it was too late. We were currently on a mission to clear out our competitors' warehouse. After completing our tasks, we set the warehouse on fire. The flames engulfed the building, turning the night into a crimson spectacle. The smell of burning was suffocating, but I couldn't take my eyes off the dancing flames. I turned to leave. And it was at that moment that I heard a click that stopped my heart. The sound was familiar, but no less terrifying: the pistol's safety was off. The cold of steel touched my back. "I'm sorry," Vladimir whispered. I slowly turned around. There was desperation, confusion, and something else in his eyes... something I'd never seen before. "What have I done?" I asked, my heart aching. He was a man who always controlled everything around him, and now he was on the verge of breaking. He looked away, then back at me. "You've become my weakness," he said, as if it were unbearable. "I must get rid of you while I still can. You have no idea how difficult it is, but even others can see that I have feelings for you. I can't allow our enemies to use you against me." The words cut like glass shards. I knew he wasn't joking. His special treatment of me had become a legend among the Connie. The risk of my enemies using me against him was too great. He held a gun pointed at me, but his finger was off the trigger. His eyes were filled with sadness. He knew he was about to kill the only person who saw him for who he truly was. And he knew that such a person would never again be in his life. I looked into his eyes for any hope, any slightest hint that he might change his mind.