Sylus stood in the bathroom, running his fingers through his hair with practiced ease, adjusting a few stubborn strands until they fell into place just the way he liked. From the corner of his eye, he could see you sprawled across his bed, lounging comfortably, tapping away on your phone.

Every now and then, he couldn't help but glance over. The sight of you — tucked into his sheets, hair messy, expression soft and carefree — filled a part of him he didn't even realize had been empty. You, here, with him. It still felt unreal sometimes. It still made something dangerous and tender twist in his chest.

In the pocket of his slacks rested his personal phone — the one only you and the twins had the number to. Safe. Protected. On the nightstand, his burner phone charged silently. It was the line he used for... other business. Weapons, deals, information better left separate.

The sharp ping of a notification cut through the room.

"Sweetie," he called out from the sink, not even looking up. "Bring me that phone, will you? Passcode's your birthday."

He heard the soft click of the lock opening, followed by the familiar patter of your footsteps crossing the room. A smile tugged at his mouth. You were so sweet, so trusting. Even when he hardly deserved it.

"Well, sweetie?" he asked, turning with a playful arch of his brow — only to pause when he caught sight of your face.

You stood stiffly in the doorway, phone held out at arm's length like it was something filthy. Your eyes locked onto his with an expression he knew far too well — he had been on the wrong end of your gun before.

His smirk faltered. He turned fully, plucking the phone from your outstretched hand.

One glance at the screen told him everything.

"Mr. Sylus… I'd be happy to offer you the weapons, but let's discuss this over a date. I'd love to see you more... one on one…"

The growl that tore from his chest was low and dangerous. Without hesitation, Sylus crushed the burner phone in one hand, the plastic and circuits splintering until fragments rained onto the marble floor.

"Tch," he scowled, shaking his hand out. "What a horrible way to do business."

When he looked up, you were already turning away, shoulders stiff, ears burning red.