ADANNA POV (point of view)
The apartment is too quiet. Not the empty kind.... the charged kind. The kind that presses against your skin and makes every breath feel louder than it should.
Darian moves through the space like he's afraid to disturb something fragile. He locks the door. Checks the windows. Sets his phone face down on the counter.
Then he finally looks at me.
Not the scan for threats look. Not the soldier's glance.
Just… me.
"You're safe here," he says, softer than I've ever heard him.
I nod, but my body hasn't caught up to the words yet. My nerves are still buzzing, Eden still humming faintly in the back of my mind like a tide that hasn't fully gone out.
He pours two glasses of water and hands me one, our fingers brush, it's small and accidental.
My breath stutters anyway and he notices.
"You don't have to be strong right now," he says quietly and that's when it breaks.
I set the glass down before my hands start shaking and step into him, pressing my forehead to his chest. His arms come around me instantly, firm and grounding, like he's been waiting for permission.
I breathe him in, soap, rain, the faint trace of gun oil he never quite loses.
"I don't know who I am without all of this," I admit. "Without running, without watching my back."
His chin rests on my hair. "You're still you. Even when the noise stops."
I tilt my head back to look at him. "And you?"
A corner of his mouth lifts, but his eyes stay serious. "I don't remember the last time I let myself be anything else."
The space between us shrinks. Not rushed and not desperate but drawn.
His hand slides from my back to my waist, thumb brushing bare skin where his shirt hangs too loose on me. My pulse jumps, not fear but awareness.
"Adanna," he murmurs, like a question.
I answer by leaning in.
The kiss starts slow, careful, just as if we're both testing whether this is real or just another illusion the chaos has built.
It's real.
His mouth is warm, steady, unhurried. No hunger yet, just reassurance. Just I'm here pressed into every second.
When I part my lips, he exhales sharply, like restraint snapping.
His hand cups my jaw, mine fists into his shirt. The quiet apartment seems to hold its breath with us.
DARIAN POV (point of view)
I shouldn't let this go further...that thought comes late, far too late and doesn't stop anything.
She kisses like someone who has survived too much and still believes in tenderness. It wrecks me faster than violence ever could.
I back her toward the couch without breaking the kiss, until her knees hit the cushion and she sinks down, pulling me with her.
Her hands explore my shoulders, my neck, like she's memorizing me. Like she's afraid I might vanish if she doesn't.
I pull back just enough to look at her.
"If we start," I say, voice low, controlled with effort, "I don't know how to stop."
Her eyes are dark, steady. "Then don't."
Something inside me gives way.
I kiss her again.. deeper this time and the world narrows to heat and breath and the way she arches into me when my hand slides along her thigh.
Her fingers slip under my shirt, tracing scars I forgot existed until she touches them.
"Who did this?" she whispers.
"Doesn't matter."
"It does to me."
No one has ever said that to me. I close my eyes, forehead resting against hers.
"Someone from before, someone who knows how to hurt without leaving fingerprints."
Her expression tightens. "The Syndicate?"
"Before them," I admit. "A man named Kade. He taught me what loyalty costs."
Her hand stills and that's when my phone vibrates on the counter.
Once then twice.
I know that pattern.
I pull away with a curse and grab it.
One message.
Kade: You took something that was never yours. Tell the girl I said hello.
My blood goes cold.
ADANNA POV (point of view)
I don't need to see the screen to know something has changed. His body goes rigid and the warmth drains from his face, replaced by something darker and older.
"Who is it?" I ask softly.
He doesn't lie. He never does with me anymore.
"Someone who shouldn't know you exist."
My chest tightens. "But he does."
"Yes."
I stand, crossing the space between us, placing my hands on his face, forcing him to look at me.
"Then listen to me," I say. "You don't get to shut me out now. Not after everything."
His jaw flexes. "This isn't your fight."
I shake my head. "You don't decide that alone.
For a long moment, he just stares at me, at my resolve, my fear, my refusal to step back.
Then he exhales.
"He'll come," Darian says. "Not loud. Not fast. He likes to watch first."
A shiver runs through me , not just fear, but fury.
"Then let him," I say. "We're done running."
Something fierce flashes in his eyes.
He pulls me into him again.... not gentle this time, but urgent, like the moment itself might be stolen if we hesitate.
"This doesn't end tonight," he says against my mouth. "But I need you to understand something."
"What?"
"If he takes you..."
"He won't."
"I would burn the world."
I kiss him to stop the thought from finishing.
This kiss is different.
It's need, it's defiance. It's us choosing each other in the shadow of everything coming for us.
He lifts me, carrying me toward the bedroom, hands sure, controlled, reverent. The door closes behind us, shutting out the city, the threats, the ghosts.
Inside, the tension finally breaks into heat, clothes discarded, skin against skin, breaths mingling in the dark.
He presses his forehead to mine, voice rough. "Tell me to stop."
I didn't but pull him down with me instead.
The world can wait.
Somewhere across the city, a man watches a screen and smiles.
The game has resumed but for now, in the quiet between danger and dawn, two survivors cling to each other not because it's safe…
…but because it's real.
To be continued.....