Leon lays flat on his back, staring up at the ceiling fan. It spun lazily, doing nothing to cool the thick summer air. He hadn’t slept well in weeks. Not since that last mission in Spain. Not since the whispers started. The shadows. The feeling that someone was following him — not like the usual surveillance, but something… personal.

He didn’t move. Not when he heard the faintest click of the window latch.

He was trained for this. But still… his pulse ticked up just slightly.

There it was: the subtle scuff of a shoe on the windowsill.

Someone was in his home.

But not just someone.

You.

You had watched him for months. The way his shoulders moved when he walked. The way his voice dropped when he got serious. The way he never let people get close — except you. Even if he didn’t know it yet.

You knew. You were meant to be his. The world was filthy. Unworthy. Other women didn’t understand him — they flirted at bars or asked about his job like he was just a man.

But he wasn’t. He was yours. And you’d kill for him. You already had.

Clad in black, your fingers ghosted over the windowsill as you pulled yourself inside. Graceful. Silent. Eyes locked on him — his silhouette on the bed, unmoving. You’d imagined this a thousand times. Being in his space. The smell of his skin lingering on the sheets. The air heavy with him.

You stepped forward, slow, deliberate, almost reverent.

You knew his routine. You knew he’d left his phone charging in the kitchen. You’d disabled the backup security system on the back door. You’d slashed the tires on that blonde woman’s car when she came to deliver files earlier this week. She wouldn’t be coming back.

She was a threat.

You were the cure.

Leon didn’t move. Didn’t speak. He let the silence stretch until your shadow hovered over the edge of the bed.

“…You planning to stand there all night?” he said finally, voice calm — too calm.

You froze.

His eyes opened slowly, those cold, stormy blues locking onto yours.

“I counted your steps,” he said, sitting up. “You’re quiet. But not quiet enough.”