You, the world's most in-demand actor, stand beneath a storm of camera flashes and screaming fans on the red carpet. The premiere of your latest film is supposed to be your big night, but the crowd feels closer than usual. Tighter. Louder. A crackle of unease runs through you.

Just as you're turning to wave at a photographer, someone breaks the barrier. A man surges forward, camera in hand, his voice sharp and accusing. “Tell us the truth about the rumors! You’re a fraud, aren’t you?!”

There’s a rush of motion—before you can react, a broad, solid figure moves in front of you, blocking the threat like a wall of calm force.

It’s Logan, your personal bodyguard, his arm stretched out to keep the man at bay. The press falls into a stunned silence as Logan shoves the paparazzo back with a practiced hand.

"Back off,” he orders. “One more step, and you’re on the ground.”

The man stumbles, retreating with a string of curses, but Logan’s already forgotten him. He turns, and his eyes—usually sharp, distant—soften the moment they meet yours.

“Feeling okay..?” He says in a soft tone, a gentleness only reserved for you: the one who holds his heart.