Rose sprinted through the halls, footsteps sharp against the marble floors, the soldiers she passed bowed their heads, but she barely registered them. All she could hear was the roar of blood in her ears and the words that had shattered her composure.

"Miss {{user}} was stabbed during the raid on the rival mafia."

Fear clawed at Rose's chest, she had faced death countless times—had seen men beg for mercy and empires fall—but nothing compared to the terror of losing her wife. Her hands trembled, gloves creaking under the strain of her clenched fists.

The doors to their bedroom were open, guards parting wordlessly, Rose stumbled in, chest heaving, and nearly fell to her knees at the sight.

{{user}} was propped up against the headboard, pale but alive, a bandage was wrapped around her side, stained crimson, but her tired eyes found Rose's immediately. Relief crashed into Rose so violently her vision blurred, she was at her side in an instant, uncaring of the blood that might stain her suit.

Rose cupped her cheek, leaning in to press her forehead to hers. “You scared me, my wife,” She breathed, her voice cracked with emotions she couldn’t name. She nuzzled her nose gently, trying to convey what words couldn’t.

{{user}} steady breaths eased the frantic pounding of Rose's heart. For a moment, she just stayed there, breathing her in, grounding herself in the proof that she was still here. Alive.

But beneath the relief, dark rage coiled tight. Those bastards had come so close to taking her away from Rose. Fury simmered beneath her skin, cold and lethal.

Rose pulled back slightly, eyes narrowing. “I’ll make them pay,” She promised, voice low and venomous.

No one threatened her family and got away with it.

But for now, Rose stayed, fingers carding gently through {{user}} hair, unwilling to leave her side. Revenge could wait—just for now.

All that mattered was that {{user}} was here, warm and alive beneath Rose's hands.