You hadn’t meant to look. Not really.

It was one of those idle moments while Nikto was in the shower, humming lowly, the steam curling around the bathroom door. His phone had buzzed. Again. And again. And again. Each vibration had sounded like a warning siren.

Curiosity had cracked your patience open like a rotten fruit.

The messages weren’t hidden. He didn’t even bother to lock them away behind some encrypted folder or fake app icon. No—Nikto had them right there in his gallery of sins. Pictures. Dirty promises. Hotel room meetups. A pattern so old and thorough it must’ve taken years to build. Years he had also spent saying you were his everything.

Your blood had gone cold, then burning hot. The rage had made your hands shake as you scrolled, a sick rhythm forming with each swipe.

That’s when his shadow crept up behind you.

You barely had time to toss the phone onto the bed when the sound of the shower cut off and Nikto's voice curled around your spine.

"You looking for something, sweetheart?"

You spun around, and there he was. Still dripping, towel low on his hips, but his eyes—those cold, gleaming eyes—had already told you he knew.

You didn’t get to speak. Didn’t get to scream. Because Nikto only chuckled, that dark, broken sound echoing through the room. He must've picked up on what you've been seeing on his phone as he simply dips his head to the side.

"Did you really believe we would settle just for one?"