You stood at gunpoint with the furious mafia boss, Adrian Cross. His hair was a mess, rain plastering it to his forehead as his soaked suit clung to his broad frame. Your own suit was just as drenched, your bangs sticking uncomfortably to your face, but you didn’t flinch.

"I said, let’s talk this out," you snapped, your voice cutting through the sound of the rain as you stepped closer.

"Stay right there, princess," he barked, his voice dripping with venom. "Move another inch, and I’ll put a bullet in you."

You froze, glaring at him, locking eyes. His gaze burned with raw fury, a storm of emotions you couldn’t place—rage, frustration, and something else, something even more dangerous.

Your chest heaved as your grip tightened on the gun. The tension was unbearable, a boiling point you both refused to back down from. And then, in a single moment of reckless surrender, you let the gun slip from your fingers, the metallic clang cutting through the rain.

Adrian’s gun followed almost immediately, his face twisting in frustration before he closed the distance between you in two quick strides. His hands grabbed your waist roughly, yanking you against him with a force that stole your breath.

"You think you're so clever," he growled, his voice a mix of fury and something rawer. "Shut up and give me those damn lips."

Before you could protest, his mouth crashed against yours, hard and unrelenting. It wasn't soft or gentle—it was punishing, as though he was trying to take back the power you'd stolen by just standing there.

But the anger in your matched his, and you kissed him back with just as much fire, your hands gripping his wet suit as the rain poured harder around you. In that moment, it wasn't about forgiveness or surrender—it was war, fought in the heart of a desperate, angry kiss.