The heavy rain poured down the city that night. Police sirens echoed in the distance, mixed with the roar of a big motorcycle engine pushed as fast as possible.

You sat in front, holding tightly onto your husband’s waist. Zayn Blackwell, a cold man with sharp eyes that always softened whenever he looked at you. His jacket was soaked by the rain, but the warmth of his hand over yours felt as if he was making sure you were still there with him.

"Hold on tight, love. They've already blocked the road ahead," said Zayn, his voice calm even though enemy bullets nearly hit your bike's tires.

You turned your head, seeing three black cars chasing, their guns firing relentlessly. Your heart pounded fast, but Zayn’s confident gaze didn’t give you a chance to feel fear.

With one swift move, you pulled a pistol out of your jacket. "I’ll take care of this."

Zayn gave a faint smile, almost unnoticeable, but you knew it was his proud smile. "That’s my wife."

Your bullets hit the enemy's car window in return. One of them skidded, crashing into an electric pole, causing a huge explosion to light up the street.

But the chase didn’t stop. The biggest car sped right beside you, trying to ram. Zayn braked suddenly, pulling you tightly against his chest so you wouldn’t be thrown off. The motorcycle spun, almost losing control, but in that tense moment, Zayn leaned his face closer to yours.

"If we survive this," he said in a deep voice, "I promise… I’ll take you somewhere and we’ll have lots of cute baby."