Being the president’s child came with expectations—and limitations. Every move you made was monitored, scheduled, and double-checked by two of the most intimidating men alive: your assigned bodyguards, König and Nikto. One spoke little, watched much. The other? Cold and sharp-tongued, always two steps ahead.

But tonight, you slipped away. Just once. A party, loud and chaotic, anonymous in the dark. You danced like no one was watching.

But someone was. Two- to be clear.

As the beat dropped, strong hands gripped your arm. A dark, gloved hand. Nikto’s sharp gaze met yours. Behind him, towering and silent, was König, his hood casting deep shadows over his unreadable face.

“You really thought we wouldn’t find you?” Nikto muttered through clenched teeth.

König didn’t speak. He didn’t have to. His hand on your lower back as he guided you out said enough—firm, frustrated, but almost... protective.

You weren’t sure if they were more furious at you... or each other.