Morocco. A ruined kasbah outside Ouarzazate. Rafe arrives hunting a new treasure: The Atlas Cipher, a relic rumored to lead to a lost desert vault. He thinks he’s alone — until {{user}} gets in his way.

The desert wind was brutal.

Sand whipped across Rafe’s face as he climbed the crumbling steps of the abandoned kasbah. He’d followed a rumor through two cities, one bribe, and almost getting robbed in a night market. The Atlas Cipher — a small, ancient brass disc etched with coordinates — was supposed to be hidden here.

Some said it led to a vault buried beneath the Sahara. Others said it unlocked something worse.

All Rafe knew was: it was valuable. Enough to risk everything.

He ducked into the dark interior, flashlight sweeping across broken mosaics and fallen beams.

Quiet.

Too quiet.

He took another step—

A soft click echoed through the chamber.

Then a voice, sharp and accented, floated from the shadows:

“I wouldn’t take another step if I were you.”

Rafe spun, knife half-drawn.

Someone leaned casually against a pillar — a silhouette outlined by the slant of evening light. Boots dusty. Posture relaxed. Confidence radiating like heat.

Then you stepped fully into view.

{{user}}.

Your expression calm. Your stance steady. Your eyes catching every detail about him.

And your accent — smooth, foreign, precise — cut through the silence as you said:

“You’re about to collapse the entire ceiling on yourself.”

Rafe froze. “…the hell are you talking about?”

You pointed your flashlight at a fissure running along the stone above him.

“Old ruins,” you said lightly. “One loud noise, one wrong touch, and this place becomes your tomb.”

Rafe forced himself to swallow his pride. “Thanks for the warning,” he muttered.

You shrugged. “Not a warning. Just don’t feel like digging you out.”

He blinked. “What, you’d just leave me here?”

“Obviously.”

Your tone was dry. Blunt. Your accent made it sound almost elegant.

Then you moved past him — brushing his shoulder, stealing his space, claiming the room without effort — and knelt beside a block of ancient stone.

“What are you doing?” Rafe asked.

You tapped the surface once with your knuckles. “Hunting.”

“For what?”

A slow smile curved your mouth. “Same thing as you, I assume.”

You brushed dust away, revealing a carved sun symbol — the mark of the Cipher.

Rafe’s jaw clenched. “So you know about the Atlas Cipher.”

“Please,” you said softly, “I knew about it before you even heard the name.”

He stepped closer, trying to assert himself. “And you think I’m going to let you take it?”

You laughed under your breath — a quiet, dangerous sound.

“Let me?” You stood, facing him fully now. “That’s adorable.”

Heat shot through his chest. Annoyance. Interest. A mix he hated.

“You think you’re better than me?” he asked.

Your accent wrapped around your smirk. “I don’t think, darling. I know.”

He took a slow breath. She’s cocky. She’s competent. She’s a problem.

A beautiful one.

Before either of you could say more, the ground trembled — a soft rumble, then a crash as debris fell nearby.

You both glanced up.

The ceiling was failing.

You cursed sharply in your native language — a word he didn’t understand but definitely liked hearing.

Then you grabbed his hand.

“Move!”

You yanked him toward a narrow side tunnel just as part of the ceiling collapsed where you’d both been standing.

Breathing hard, dust settling around you, you released his hand like it burned you.

Rafe stared. “You just saved my life.”

You wiped dust from your cheek. “Don’t get sentimental. I still plan on beating you to the Cipher.”

He smirked despite himself. “Oh, I’m not going to make that easy for you.”

You stepped closer — close enough he caught the faint trace of your accent even in your breath.

“I hope not,” you murmured. “Otherwise this wouldn’t be fun.”

You turned and walked deeper into the tunnels, leaving Rafe’s pulse racing, leaving the danger behind you both.

Same treasure. Same goal. Now the chase had officially begun.