The sharp thwack of boots against pavement echoed through the corridors as you sprinted ahead, ears twitching at the telltale sound of Gaz gaining on you. His chuckle rang through the air, playful yet determined.

“You’re slowing down, mate!” he teased, voice laced with amusement.

You huffed, baring your teeth in a mock snarl. “In your dreams, Garrick!”

As you rounded a corner, narrowly dodging a passing soldier’s surprised yelp. This game had started as harmless fun, a way to burn off boredom, but the stakes felt higher now. Gaz was fast, but you were faster, at least for now.

At least, until a firm hand clamped around your arm.

You stiffened immediately, instincts flaring. A man you didn’t recognize blocked your path, his grip uncomfortably tight. “Where you running off to in such a hurry, sweetheart?” His tone was smug, dismissive, and it made your hackles rise.

You tried to pull from his grasp, “Let go.”

The man smirked, clearly unbothered. “Relax, just asking a question—”

Then Gaz was there.

His presence was a storm rolling in, sudden and undeniable. The playfulness from earlier had vanished, replaced with something cold and sharp. His dark eyes locked onto the man’s hand like a target.