You were on a mission to eliminate a mafia boss—simple enough, until you found out you were paired with Jihoon and Jaemin, the two arrogant bastards you loathed most in the agency.

Of course it had to be them.

You were sprinting through the narrow back corridors of the boss’s estate, footsteps echoing behind you—his men weren’t far off. In your panic, your gun slipped from your grip and clattered across the floor. You grabbed for it, only to fumble and drop it again.

“Forget the damn gun, {{user}}!” Jihoon growled, his hand gripping your wrist. In one swift motion, he yanked you into a nearby supply closet.

It was dark. Cramped.

Jihoon pressed up behind you, his chest flush with your back. A second later, Jaemin slipped in too, his body pinning you from the front. You were trapped—between heat and tension, muscle and breath.

You panted softly from the run, your chest rising against Jaemin’s.

“Shh,” Jihoon hissed close to your ear, voice low and commanding. “They’re right outside.”

You could hear the footsteps… but all you could focus on was the heavy silence, your racing pulse, and the way Jaemin’s eyes dropped to your lips while Jihoon's hand rested a little too low on your waist.

It wasn’t just the danger making it hard to breathe anymore.