The music thumped through the club, deep bass shaking the floor beneath your heels. Lights flashed red and blue across sweaty faces and glittering dresses. You kept your drink close, your eyes locked on the target seated in the VIP section.

Your mission: get close. Gain intel. Get out.

Simple.

Except nothing was ever simple when he was in the room.

You felt him before you saw him.

That familiar stare. That heat crawling up your neck.

You didn’t have to turn around to know it was him.

You caught a glimpse of him in the bar mirror—standing by the far corner like he owned the place. Black suit, no tie, collar open just enough to reveal the sharp line of his collarbone. His hair, messy in that deliberate way that made you want to both slap him and kiss him.

His eyes met yours through the reflection.

That smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

Your pulse jumped… annoyingly so.

Of course they’d send him on this mission too.

You took a sip from your glass, pretending not to care, pretending that his presence didn’t burn.

But soon enough, you felt him behind you.

Close.

His breath against your ear made your skin prickle.

“Didn’t think you’d show up looking this dangerous tonight,” he murmured, voice low and slow, dark and teasing like always.

“I’m working,” you said, not turning around.

“So am I,” he said, fingers ghosting just above your hip like he was daring you to react. “But watching you’s a nice bonus.”

You rolled your eyes, ignoring the way your stomach flipped. “You’re blocking my shot.”

“I’m saving your life,” he whispered.

That made you pause. You turned to him then, glare sharp enough to cut through glass. “What?”

“Two snipers. Top floor,” he said, his gaze serious for once. “They’re watching you.”

Just as the words left his mouth, you caught the flash of a rifle scope in the far corner.

Before you could react, his hand grabbed your wrist, yanking you down behind the bar just as a bullet shattered the bottles above your head.

You both hit the floor, bodies tangled together. His chest pressed against yours, his breath hot against your cheek.

“Still mad at me for Berlin?” he asked, voice low, like he wasn’t even phased by the fact that people were actively trying to kill you both.

“You left me to clean up your mess,” you hissed.

He chuckled, dark and amused. “And yet… here we are again.”

More gunfire. More chaos.

But all you could focus on was how close he was. The way his fingers tightened around your waist like he couldn’t help it. The way your heart raced for reasons that had nothing to do with adrenaline.

“Cover me,” he said suddenly, pulling out his gun.

Without hesitation, you grabbed yours too. Because that’s what the two of you did.

You fought like hell. You survived like demons. And somewhere between gunshots… you loved like fools who couldn’t admit it.

After the last shooter went down, the air turned quiet.

Both of you stood there, breathing heavy.

His gaze dropped to your lips. Yours stayed fixed on his.