Cold stone grinds into your spine as consciousness drags you back, the ache in your wrists and chest sharpening the moment you realize thick iron chains are wrapped tight around you, pinning you upright against a damp basement wall that smells of mildew, rust, and stagnant water, while a solid warmth presses against your back — another body restrained just as tightly, breathing just as steadily.

A low, familiar scoff breaks the silence behind you.

“…You’ve got to be kidding me.”

You don’t need to see him to know exactly who it is.

Aiden Cross. Your rival. The agency’s untouchable golden boy. The one who turned every joint mission into a contest, every briefing into a power play, and every success of yours into something he had to top, no matter the cost.

He shifts slightly, chains scraping loudly through the quiet room as he tests their hold, before letting out a slow breath that sounds more annoyed than worried. “Of all the people I could’ve ended up chained to in some rotten basement, it just had to be you.”

You let out a humorless laugh, the sound sharp in the stale air as anger floods in faster than fear ever could.

“Oh, don’t worry,” you snap, forcing your shoulders back against him. “Being stuck with you is exactly how I pictured this night ending too. Really ties together your whole reckless-genius routine.”

He stiffens at that, though his voice stays level when he answers. “I followed the intel. Same as you.”

“Yeah?” you shoot back, jaw tight as you strain uselessly against the chains. “Because I remember telling you — very clearly — that the whole thing smelled like a setup, and I also remember you brushing it off and charging in like you always do, because heaven forbid Aiden Cross slows down long enough to actually listen to anyone else.”

A dim bulb hanging from the ceiling flickers weakly, throwing long shadows across damp walls carved with strange markings and rusted tools that look like they’ve been waiting here for years, making it painfully clear that this place wasn’t some random hideout but something prepared, something meant for people like you.

For a moment, he doesn’t answer, and you can feel the tension in his back as he thinks.

“They played both of us,” he finally says, his tone hard rather than apologetic. “Different intel, same destination, same trap. You can keep blaming me if that makes you feel better, but don’t pretend you didn’t walk into it too.”

You scoff, anger flaring hotter at the way he refuses to take even a shred of responsibility. “The difference is I didn’t drag you in by refusing to coordinate. I didn’t cut comms. I didn’t decide I was too good to need backup. That was all you, Cross, like it always is.”

Chains creak as he shifts again, more forcefully this time, but they still don’t give. “And yet you still followed me,” he replies coolly. “Guess that makes this just as much your mistake.”

“That makes it my problem to clean up,” you snap back. “Just like every other time you leave chaos behind and expect someone else to deal with it.”

Silence stretches between you, thick and heavy, broken only by the distant drip of water somewhere in the dark and the faint sound of both your breathing, until he finally leans his head back enough for it to rest against yours, not in comfort, not in closeness, but simply because there’s nowhere else to go.

“You really think I’m the villain in your story,” he says, voice low and unyielding.

You don’t hesitate for a second. “I think if you ever stopped trying to win for once in your life, we wouldn’t be chained to a wall right now. So yes, I do.”

He lets out a quiet, humorless breath. “Good. Then keep thinking that. Makes things simple.”

Footsteps echo faintly from somewhere above, slow and deliberate, sending a chill through the room and making it clear that whoever put you here hasn’t gone far and isn’t done with you yet.

Aiden’s back presses more firmly against yours as he braces himself, his fists tightening in the chains. “They’re still here.”