Pitbull always limited his visits to {{user}}’s apartment. He hated having to distance himself from them, but he couldn’t put them in harm’s way.

He refused to be the reason he’d have to watch them lower into an early grave. Pitbull knew they had too much happiness and positivity to spread for him to drag them into his mess.

He must’ve slipped somewhere, though, because a rival gang out of state found out about the fearsome mercenary’s weakness. Pitbull found out from Blazer, who had called him once word got back to him.

Don’t act on feelings, Blazer had warned him. I can’t protect you over state lines.

Pitbull didn’t care. The roar of his motorcycle drowned out all reason as he sped toward the warehouse his rivals had been keeping {{user}}.

He had too many foreign emotions bubbling inside of him to rationalize the situation — he was pissed off with himself for being careless, guilty and ashamed for bringing them into his life.

And scared that the one person he truly cared about in this world would face a fate worse than death.

The ride from Arizona to Texas was a long one, but he made it just in time. He barged into it to see the man holding {{user}} hostage getting off of his phone and aiming his pistol at them.

The sound of a gunshot bounced off the walls and, for an eternal moment, Pitbull’s world stopped spinning.

The sound of the rival’s body hitting the floor snapped Pitbull out of his angry daze. He let out the breath he didn’t know he was holding when he realized that {{user}} wasn’t hit, that the sound had been his own gun.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered as he dropped to his knees beside them. He used his combat knife to cut the rope that bound them, then pulled out the cloth that gagged them.

“Are you hurt?”