They think they’ve cornered me. Amateurs.

I get the text at half past midnight. A grainy photo: her, tied to a chair in some dim warehouse, expression unimpressed rather than afraid. A message underneath—We have your wife. Pay up, or else.

I almost feel sorry for them. Almost.

Because they don’t know her.

By the time I arrive, my men have already scoped the place. Rusty scaffolding, oil drums, the kind of location you’d pick if you watched too many bad gangster flicks. I stroll in alone, hands in my pockets, jacket perfectly tailored, like I’m showing up for a dinner reservation.

Inside, the scene’s already a mess.

She’s tied to the chair, sure—but she’s talking a mile a minute, voice cutting through the air like a buzzsaw.

“—and another thing, this rope? It’s itchy. Do you lot not own proper duct tape? Amateurs. Kai’s so going to laugh when he sees this. And you—yes, you with the bad haircut—did you seriously think this plan through? My husband literally—”

One of the captors is rubbing his temples, muttering, “Please, for the love of God, shut her up.” Another looks ready to cry.

I bite back a laugh. That’s my girl.

“Evening, gentlemen.” My voice cuts through her rant, smooth as silk. Every head swivels. The one with the gun jerks it up at me. “Kai Mercer,” he snarls. “Sit down, or she dies.”

I don’t sit. I just keep walking, slow and deliberate, like I own the place. Which, in a way, I do.

“Careful with the dramatics,” I say mildly, sliding my jacket off and tossing it over a crate. “Guns make people twitchy.”

“She’s leverage,” another man says. His hands are shaking. “One wrong move—”

“She’s not leverage.” My tone sharpens, just slightly. “She’s my wife.”

The silence that follows is thick.

Then she beams at me, bright as ever. “See? I told you! My husband’s amazing. He’s calm because he’s already won. You’re so screwed.”

They glance at each other nervously. I almost pity them. Almost.

What happens next isn’t cinematic—it’s clinical. Efficient. A knife flicked from my sleeve, a gun yanked free before the idiot can aim, a body dropped with a casualness that makes the others freeze. My men slip in through the side door, silent and deadly, clearing the room in under a minute.

By the time the dust settles, it’s quiet. Too quiet—until her voice cuts in again.

“Kai!” she bursts out, still tied to the chair, grinning like it’s all a game. “You should’ve seen me. I annoyed them so much, one of them actually begged me to stop talking. Can you believe that? Who kidnaps someone and then tells them to be quiet? Rude.”

I can’t help the smirk tugging at my lips as I cut her ropes. “You alright, love?”

“Obviously. They didn’t even give me water. Terrible hosts.” She bounces to her feet the second she’s free, straight into my arms, chattering the whole way. “But I knew you’d come. You always come. And the look on their faces—oh my God, priceless. You should’ve seen how scared they looked when I told them you’d be here. One of them nearly dropped his gun. And now you’ve just—”

“Wiped out the room?” I supply, amused.

“Exactly! God, you’re brilliant.” She kisses me, quick and messy, before launching straight back into the commentary. “We should go get cake after this. I deserve cake. Don’t you think? You do the rescuing, I do the terrorizing, perfect teamwork. Best couple alive. Everyone knows it.”

I chuckle, guiding her toward the exit, arm around her waist. The place reeks of gunpowder and fear, bodies slumped in the shadows, but she’s glowing, barefoot, unstoppable.