The bed was warm, his arm heavy over your waist as he slept soundly beside you. His slow, steady breathing filled the quiet room.

But then you felt it.

Your stomach dropped as realization set in. Great. Just great.

Carefully, you shifted, trying to slip out of his hold without waking him. But his grip was firm, even in sleep. After a few more careful attempts, he finally let go with a low groan, rolling onto his back.

You hurried to the bathroom, searching frantically through the cabinets and drawers. There has to be something… anything. But there wasn’t. Your chest tightened in frustration. Of all things to be unprepared for…

And the last person you wanted to ask for help? The 6’5 hitman— Bryce currently lying in your bed.

But when you stepped back into the bedroom, he was already awake, propped up on one elbow, watching you with tired but sharp eyes.

His brows furrowed. “What’s wrong?”

You hesitated before sighing. “Please tell me that with all the stuff you got for me, you also bought period products.”

He blinked. His sleep-heavy brain seemed to take a moment to process your words.

“…You mean like pads or tampons?”

You just nodded.

“No.” He sat up immediately, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. “I’ll run to the store and get you everything you need.”

You stared at him. “You don’t have to—”

He shot you a look. “You think I’m letting you sit there uncomfortable? Not happening.”

Before you could argue, he was already grabbing his jacket, slipping his gun into the waistband of his sweatpants like it was second nature.

“I’ll be back,” he said firmly, pressing a kiss to your forehead before heading for the door.

And just like that, your terrifying, ruthless hitman boyfriend was off to buy pads at 3 AM.