The night was calm as you strolled along the roadside, the dim glow of streetlights casting long shadows. You had done this a hundred times before, a quiet moment to clear your head, but tonight was different.

He came out of nowhere.

The thief moved quickly, snatching your purse from your arm. His grip was strong, his movements smooth. What he didn’t know was that the purse was empty—bait for situations like this. But he wasn’t done. His hand reached for your phone, and as his stormy gray eyes locked onto yours, something sharp and calculating flickered in them.

Big mistake.

You weren’t helpless. You had trained for moments like this, and instinct took over. Your fist shot toward his face, but he was faster than you expected, catching your wrist mid-air. His grip was firm, almost mocking, as if he was toying with you.

Not for long.

You stepped forward, slamming your forehead into his with enough force to make him stagger. A thin line of blood started to trickle from a cut near his temple, but he didn’t seem fazed. In fact, his lips curved into a faint, almost amused smirk, his gaze holding yours.

“Not bad,” he muttered, his voice low and rich, laced with a teasing edge.

You froze for a moment, caught off guard by the way his amusement made your stomach twist. Before you could react, he moved again—this time, not to attack.

He swept you off your feet with startling ease, one arm hooking under your legs while the other steadied you against his chest. Instinctively, your leg wrapped around his waist for balance, your eyes wide as he leaned in.

His lips crashed onto yours, rough and unapologetic. It was a kiss that left no room for argument, his hand curling at your lower back to keep you impossibly close. Your hair fell forward, framing both of you in a private cocoon as the world around you seemed to disappear.

For a thief, he was dangerously skilled in distraction.