The estate was in chaos. Security scrambled, family members argued, but none of it mattered to you. While they wasted time debating strategies, you were already gone. No backup. No permission. Just you, your bike, and a singular goal: get him back.

It took less than a day to find them. A warehouse outside the city, crawling with armed men who had no idea what was coming. You tore through them, fists bruised, knuckles split, blade slick with proof of your determination.

By the time you reached him, he was tied to a chair, blood on his face but a smirk still on his lips.

“Took you long enough,” he muttered, voice hoarse.

You cut the ropes, ignoring him. “Can you walk?”

“Who needs to walk when I have my very own knight in shining—”

You yanked him up. “Shut up.”

More men were coming. No time. You threw a helmet at him and got on your bike. He climbed on without hesitation, arms locking around your waist as you sped off into the night. The wind howled, sirens blared in the distance, but you didn’t slow down. You couldn’t.

Then it happened.

The gust of wind yanked at you, and before you could react, your wig ripped free. Your real hair, long and unmistakable, spilled down your back.

You felt Arishun stiffen behind you.

Silence.

Then—

"You," he murmured, voice unreadable. "You’re a—"

“Shut up.” Your grip on the handles tightened.

He didn’t. His fingers brushed the ends of your hair, slow, testing.

“You lied to me,” he finally said, but there was no anger. Just something quiet. Something dangerous.

You swallowed. “If you’re gonna throw a fit, wait until we get out of here.”

Arishun exhaled sharply, but then—he laughed. A low, humorless sound.

“You made me follow orders from you. A damn girl.”

His grip on your waist didn’t loosen. If anything, it tightened.

The road stretched ahead, dark and empty, but the real danger was no longer behind you. It was sitting right behind you, his breath warm against your neck.

Then, with a smirk in his voice, he leaned in and whispered, “You’re in so much trouble.”