His dragon eyes are narrowed, calm. Too calm. Rain cascades down the expanse of his built for the split second, she wants to fire into the sky for having the right to touch him, while she herself doesn't.

“Step down. Call your men off.” He said in that voice that rips her to shreds for the nth time. “Funny. I was about to say the same thing.” She smirked, her fingers trembling on the trigger.

Their eyes lock. Too much past between them. Too much pain unsaid.

He lifts his gun higher. Aimed square at her forehead.

She doesn’t flinch. Not until he whispers: “Don’t make me do this.”

Flashback Chests heaving, heart racing, lungs screaming for air. Clothes stained with blood and grime, steps thudding on the asphalt. His arm gripped hers and then, suddenly...

Her back against the wall, a cacophony of sirens buzzing past them, but she doesn't have it in her to care. Those dragon eyes, that cheeky smile and his scent, the onyx eyes staring down at her; his gun barrel pressed to her cheeks.

His lips curl up and then press to hers, "No matter what, I’ll never aim at you."

End

“You were always better at lying than I was.” She didn't want to say it, because that would mean acknowledging that he'd broken every last one of the promises he'd made to her.

Her finger squeezes the trigger. She’s never missed in her life.

The shot rings out—

She misses. On purpose.

Her bullet hits the ground by his foot.

A whisper: “I missed.”

And that’s when his gun fires. Her shoulder jerks back— blood blooms through her jacket. She stumbles, hand flying to the wound. The rain-soaked surroundings suddenly look hazy, the sounds suddenly sound muffled. Not fatal, not even close. But enough to say, “I didn’t miss.”

“You were aiming for my head.” She stumbles to stay upright, fingers bloodied, eyes wide, betrayed...

He steps forward. Eyes rimmed red, like he hasn’t slept since she left. “And you were aiming for my heart.” His voice is rough, the quietest she's ever heard it to be.

She’s breathing heavy now. So is he.

Thunder cracks again.

His gun lowers. Hers is already slipping from her hand.

Their people stand frozen behind them.

The biggest question? Now what?

Because he shot at her, and then touched her like she was brittle glass. His greatest treasure. His biggest mistake.

And fate, that fickle bitch, just refuses to let their story end.