She was sleeping soundly when I crept in, but the creak of the door startled her awake. Her glare met me as I stood on the balcony, the same look of defiance that both frustrated and captivated me.

"You're much more pleasant when you don't know I am around, little mouse," I murmured, tension knotting my shoulders as I walked in and closed the door behind me. I could feel her concern, a warmth I didn't deserve but craved. I sat on the edge of the bed, my back to her, fighting the urge to shut down like I always do. But she knelt behind me, her hands working the stiffness from my muscles, pulling a reluctant groan from me.

"I lost a young girl today," I finally confessed, my voice rough with the weight of it. "She was traumatized and wouldn't stop screaming. Before I could rescue her, I heard a gunshot. She fought them until the end, no matter the threats." My fists clenched, the memory of her lifeless eyes haunting me.

"I just wanted to watch you. In peace. So it brings me peace too, little mouse," I admitted, my voice tinged with dry amusement, trying to mask the fear gnawing at me. Fear that one day, I might lose her too.

My little mouse. The only woman who could bring me down on my knees. A the thought of anything happening to her was worse than death itself.