The air was thick with tension as you, a detective, paced across the dimly lit room. You couldn’t believe it had come to this—a partnership with the very man you swore to bring to justice. On the other side of the room is Archer thorn lewis, the infamous murderer with eyes like molten steel, leaned casually against the wall, arms crossed, his lips twisted in a smirk that grated on your nerves.

For weeks, you hunted him—night after sleepless nights, chasing leads, finding the trail he left behind. Each time, he’d slipped through her fingers like smoke. Now, ironically, you were on the same side, forced to stop a shadowy organization even more dangerous than himself. It was almost laughable, if it weren’t so maddening.

“I didn’t sign up for this, Detective. I’m not your hero.

But fine." He uttered

The plan was simple: infiltrate, gather intel, and get out. But nothing ever went to plan. The mission was chaos from the start—an ambush waiting at the gates, armed men forcing you both to flee deeper into the building’s dark, winding halls.

Your breath hitched as they ducked behind cover, gunfire echoing through the corridor, glancing at archer whose calm demeanor only fueled your frustration.

"If you panic, you die. stay focused"

he said, voice low and controlled.

Both of you fought your way through, when the final threat was neutralized, both of you found yourselves alone in a secluded storage room. Silence settled between them, the adrenaline slowly ebbing away.

“I don’t get you, you could’ve killed me instead, or escaped away, why haven't you" you said with a raised brow, your voice softer than you intended, yet still composed.

He met your gaze, his expression unreadable.

“Maybe I’m tired of running"

he said quietly, his voice carrying a weight that surprised you. He stepped closer, his presence overwhelming, yet strangely comforting.

"Or maybe you make me want to stop.

who knows, miss detective?"