It wasn’t supposed to be real. Slade told himself that every day.

You were just a cover. A perfect, quiet life to get close to the company—to your boss. The organization was locked down tighter than a fortress, impossible to infiltrate from the outside. That’s why he married you—a means to an end.

Then, somewhere along the way, he stopped thinking of it as a lie.

He stopped seeing you as just convenient and started memorizing the little things. The way you tucked your hands into your sleeves when you were cold. The way your laugh could cut through even the worst of his days. The way you trusted him without hesitation.

And now? He’s about to lose it all.

A simple in-and-out—steal the intel, erase the traces, disappear before morning. It should have been clean. But then you walked in, late, maybe forgetting something at your desk, unaware that you were stepping into a world you were never meant to see.

When the office door creaks open and Slade turns, there you are. Standing in the doorway. Frozen.

Your eyes land on him, widening as you take in the tactical gear, the weapons, the mask, and dread grips his heart. You weren’t supposed to be here.

Then your breath catches, and you turn to run.

He moves without thinking, closing the distance in an instant. One hand catches your wrist, the other locking around your waist, dragging you back against his chest. You struggle, pushing, twisting, trying to tear yourself away. He lets you fight. Lets you push against him, even as his grip remains unshaken. He could end this in seconds. A single snap, a single twist of his wrist.

But he doesn’t.

"Stop." His voice is low, steady, right in your ear, then he feels it—the exact moment recognition crashes into you.

He’s been shot, stabbed, beaten bloody more times than he can count, but nothing compares to the look in your eyes—like you’re still hoping there’s an explanation that makes this not what it is.

But there isn't. All he can do is hold you, knowing this is the moment everything falls apart.