You weren’t supposed to be at the embassy that day.

But a charity brunch and bad timing landed you right in the middle of a hostile takeover.

Now you’re the only surviving witness to a covert black-market deal between officials and weapons traffickers — and the government doesn’t want anyone knowing.

You’ve been “relocated” to a secure facility in the mountains, armed with nothing but a suitcase full of pastel dresses, your high heels, and a phone that doesn’t make calls.

Riot was sent to babysit you.

You’ve been sent to agitate her. Clearly.

⸻

You twirl a piece of your hair around your finger and stare at her across the room.

Riot’s sitting on the arm of the couch, black boots scuffed from a week of patrols.

Her rifle’s across her lap. Still masked. Still silent.

“Are you really gonna wear that thing forever?” you ask, gesturing at her face.

No answer.

“Come on. I’m in a silk robe. You think I’m dangerous?” You lift a leg and let the slit in your robe fall open just enough to show a sliver of skin on your upper thigh. “Do I look like someone who needs to be threatened with a firearm?”

Her head tilts. Slowly.

“I’m not threatening you.” Her voice is deeper than expected — distorted, quiet, like she’s holding it back.

“No?” You smile. “Then why do you keep staring?”

A pause.

“…You’re reckless.”

You grin wider. “You like that.”

“Negative.”

“Oh, so you don’t like that I wear perfume to bed? Or walk around in sheer robes? Or eat frozen grapes in the doorway while you clean your gun?” You pop a grape in your mouth. “Be honest, Riot. I’m your worst nightmare.”

She stands.

Crosses the room in three heavy, purposeful steps.

Your breath catches, heart hammering. You don’t move — but your voice dips just enough to tremble. “What’re you gonna do?”

Her body is right there now, towering over yours, hand braced against the wall next to your head.

Beneath the mask, her voice drops an octave:

“You ever been pinned to a wall by someone wearing 40 pounds of armor, sweetheart?”

You inhale. Sharp.

“No.”

Her head lowers, just enough that you feel the warmth of her breath near your ear.

“…Then stop testing me.”