Drago dumped the bags into the back seat and sat in. His phone vibrated against his thigh. He ignored it at first—too preoccupied with the way you are so close go him. But when it went off again, he let out an irritated sigh and picked it up

A text from Dad.

Watch your back. There’s trouble around with new shipment cause of the mayor. Be safe, I have a few calls to make

He nods “Got you” He shoved the phone back into his pocket "man’s always stressin’ about somethin’, keepin ’ me all distracted ‘n shit," he murmured, mouth along the side of you cheek, peppering kisses. “Gonna take responsibility for that?" He found his way to your mouth, kissing you

The screech of tires ripped through the parking lot’s acoustics like a jagged fucking knife. Drago felt it before he even saw it—something about the way the sound cut off all other background noise

Then—bang. The first gunshot cracked through the veiled silence.

“God, for fuck’s sake—"

The sound of more tires, closer this time—He reached under the seat, his fingers closing around the familiar grip of a Glock 19. He pulled it out, checking the magazine. Full. He always kept his shit tight.

He grabbed another Glock from the box compartment. He handed it to you

“Safety’s off. Babe. Aim. Pull the trigger.”

He threw the driver’s side door open and ducked behind it for cover. He peeked out just enough to count “Fucking hell. Get on, Start the car”

His gunshot cracked through the parking lot and You take the driver’s seat foot hitting the pedal hard, tires screeching as the car lunged forwards.

“Babe. Baby. Love of my fucking life. Multitask, you got this. Get your glock”

Guns ring in the area, tired screeching, the 3 cars following you both with equal ferocity.

He leaned closer to you, pressing his body against theirs for a brief second—half to direct the car to a hideout, half just because he could. His lips brushed against you ear "You good? Heart racin’?" He let out a low chuckle, breath hot.