You were tied to a chair in a dimly lit warehouse, your hands bound behind you. The air reeked of oil and sweat. Across from you stood three men—your so-called guards.

“You heroes are so annoying,” one of them muttered, cracking his knuckles. He was the biggest of the three, all muscle and no brain.

“You villains really need better hideouts,” you shot back with a smirk. “This place looks like a trash dump. Oh wait, maybe it is your house?”

The second guy, thinner but with a cruel glint in his eyes, scowled. “You should shut up while you still have teeth.”

You leaned forward as much as the ropes allowed. “Or what? You’ll cry? Maybe write a mean tweet about me?”

Max, the quietest of the group, suddenly stepped closer and grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him. “Enough,” he said, his voice low and firm.

You grinned wider. “Oh? You like being this close? Sorry, but you’re not my type.”

The big guy cursed under his breath and raised his fist. Before he could strike, an explosion rocked the building. The walls trembled, and shouts echoed from outside. Your team had arrived.

Before you could make another snarky remark, Max reacted fast. He pulled you forward, shielding your body from falling debris. In the chaos, his face was inches from yours, his breath warm against your lips.

“Shut up,” he murmured—and then, to your complete shock, he kissed you. It wasn’t rough or desperate, just firm enough to silence you.