The night was steeped in chaos, gunfire slicing through the air as you and Kiefan tore through enemy ranks with ruthless precision. Each shot was a death sentence, each movement swift and calculated — until fate decided to toy with you. A misstep. A moment of misfortune.

Now, the two of you were crammed into a suffocatingly tight closet, bodies pressed close, breaths shallow as the heavy footsteps of your enemies loomed just outside. The worst part? You had both lost your guns.

A curse slipped from your lips as you turned to Kiefan, whispering urgently, “Shit… I lost my gun. Do you have a spare?”

Desperation drove your hands to his pockets, fingers searching for the cool touch of a firearm. Instead, they brushed against something solid — warm — and absolutely not a gun.

You froze. A slow, dawning realization crept over you. “…What the hell is this?”

A deep chuckle vibrated against your ear, rich with amusement and something far more dangerous. Kiefan shifted slightly, the closeness between you growing impossibly more tense as he murmured,

“Darling...unless you plan on handling that kind of weapon...i’d suggest you stop right there..."