The tires screamed against the pavement as Sylus swerved around a corner, sparks flying as the passenger-side mirror kissed a wall. You could hear the roaring engines behind you, close — too close.

“Three of them,” you said, peering through the cracked side mirror, heart thudding like a drumline. “Black SUV, unmarked. We’ve got maybe two minutes.”

Sylus grinned like this was foreplay.

“Plenty of time, babe.”

The car launched over a slight dip in the road, and your stomach lifted — but you were used to that. Life with Sylus had always been a little airborne. You glanced sideways at him. One hand on the wheel, the other shifting gears with a sharp click, hair tousled, sweat on his brow, jaw tight with focus.

Damn him for looking so good while being so reckless.

“You think now’s a good time to flirt with death?” you shot, gripping the dashboard.

He smirked without looking at you. “I’m flirting with you. Death’s just third-wheeling.”

The car jolted as bullets sparked off the trunk. You reached into the glove compartment, pulled out your pistol, cocked it.

“Can you hold it steady?” you asked.

He grunted. “Can you stop looking at me like that when I’m trying to drive?”

“Like what?”

“Like I didn’t just watch you take down two mercs with a kitchen knife this morning.”

You leaned out the window, took a shot — direct hit to one of the SUV’s tires. It veered and clipped a light pole, crashing behind in a storm of sparks and glass.

“Two left!” you called, heart hammering.

Sylus grinned. “You’re hot when you’re lethal.”

You ducked back inside, breathless, adrenaline coursing through your veins. His hand shot out and tangled in your hair for a split second, pulling you in just enough for a kiss — fast, fiery, teeth clashing before he was back to shifting gears.

“Focus!” you laughed, shoving his shoulder. “We’re married, not immortal.”

He winked. “That’s where you’re wrong, sweetheart. We’re unstoppable.”

The two remaining cars pulled up beside you, one on each side. Sylus nodded toward the sunroof.

“Ready to make this a date night?”

You sighed dramatically, already climbing into position. “Next time, we’re watching a movie. I’m picking. No guns, no blood, just you, me, and popcorn.”

“Deal,” he called as you slid your body through the sunroof, legs braced, gun in hand. “But only if you promise to keep kissing me like that.”