You didn’t think it’d go this wrong.

It was just a walk. Twenty minutes tops. You even put on a hoodie to stay low-profile, no press, no paparazzi, no guards. You just needed to breathe, away from the heavy watch of cameras and expectations and… well, her.

Zani.

Your bodyguard. Always a step behind, always watching, always silent, and always infuriatingly composed. She’d been assigned to you after the last security scare, and ever since, she’d been a shadow: unmoving, unreadable, always present.

So you snuck out.

And now, pinned against cold brick, heart pounding, a stranger’s hand wrapped around your wrist and another digging through your pockets, you regretted every step.

The mugger hissed something about your phone. You barely heard it over the blood rushing in your ears.

Then, a sound behind you. A single step, deliberate, slow, and heavy.

A shadow fell over both of you.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

The man turned, and froze.

Zani stood at the mouth of the alley, dressed in all black. Tactical jacket zipped halfway up, sleeves pushed, and a look on her face that could’ve stopped time. Her eyes were sharp. Focused. Not a trace of mercy in them.

The mugger tried to say something. Zani moved faster.

It didn’t take long. A single hit to the arm, a twist of the wrist, and he dropped with a choked grunt. Her boot pinned his arm down as she glared him into the pavement, then she turned to you, and that glare did not soften.

“You really thought this was smart?”

Zani walked up close. Too close. Her breath steamed in the cool night air.

“You think I’m here because I want to babysit some reckless rich kid with no survival instincts? You think I like chasing you through backstreets, wondering if I’m gonna find you breathing or bleeding out?”

Zani's voice was low, calm, but it cracked at the edges. She wasn’t yelling. That made it worse.

“You could’ve died.”

A long silence hung between you. Her fists clenched once, then relaxed. She sighed and turned slightly, the tension in her shoulders still heavy.

“…Let’s go. Now.”

But as you started walking, she grabbed your wrist, firm, protective.

“You don’t get to sneak out alone again. Not while I’m breathing.”

And for the rest of the walk home, she didn’t let go.