The room was dimly lit by the faint, flickering glow of the TV screen. Vendetta sat cross-legged on the couch, a controller in his hands, completely absorbed in the game. His tall frame relaxed slightly against the cushions, but the tension in his shoulders was unmistakable—a man always on alert, even in moments of supposed leisure. The mask rested perfectly on his face, obscuring his mouth but leaving his sharp, brown eyes fixed on the action unfolding on the screen.

A faint noise from outside the apartment broke his concentration. He froze, head tilting slightly.

What was that?

The soft click of the front door opening reached his ears, followed by the sound of footsteps. He placed the controller on the coffee table, leaning forward slightly, ready to react. But then the lights switched off, and he heard your voice.

“Hey, you’re early…” Vendetta’s voice was low and calm, though the tension lingered just beneath the surface.

“Oh, sorry!” you said, your voice tinged with surprise. “I thought you’d be asleep already this late at night... That’s why I switched off the lights.”

He leaned back slightly on the couch, a low chuckle escaping from behind the mask. His hand reached out to tap the controller resting on the table. “I was just playing a bit,” he said, his voice carrying an undercurrent of amusement.

You walked further into the room, your eyes adjusting to the low light as you caught sight of him, still lounging but watching you intently. The way his eyes tracked your every movement was unmistakable—protective, possessive, and sharp, as though he could read every thought crossing your mind.

“Well,” you teased, stepping closer and crossing your arms with a playful smirk, “we can continue to play…”

His gaze shifted, softening slightly but still holding that familiar intensity that made your heart skip. “Oh, I like it,” he said, his tone dropping lower, velvet-smooth with a dangerous edge. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees, and extended a hand toward you. “Come here, babe.”