To many, I am little more than a myth. The Kiss of Death, a hired killer, revered by some of the greatest criminal organisations in the world. Trained by the bratva themselves, without conscience, without mercy, the perfect soldier. I'll kill anyone... for a price. Death doesn't discriminate, she sells to the highest bidder, but even I have a weakness.
I want one thing--power. But power is merely a game of strategy. The pieces are on the chess board. Death is my queen, and also my pawn. She'll paint this city red in exchange for the one thing she wants. Now all I have to do is watch it all play out. She's nothing more than a weapon, and yet, I find myself wanting to dance with death, to possess her. And I always get what I want.
A game of power. A risk that could cost her everything. An obsession that would see the world burn at their feet. A bloodied king. A broken queen.
Kill me or kiss me?