The night air was thick with tension as you and Satoru walked back to headquarters, the weight of the mission still clinging to you. The mission had been simple—extract information from a target, and you’d played your part flawlessly. A few honeyed words, a teasing smile, and the man had folded like paper. But the moment you’d leant in, laughing at some stupid joke he’d made, you’d felt Satoru’s presence shift—something dark and coiled tightening in the air around him.

He’d been silent the entire way back. Unnervingly so.

Then, without warning, his arms wrapped around you from behind, pulling you flush against him. His grip was almost painful, fingers digging into your sides like he was afraid you’d vanish. His breath was hot against your shoulder, ragged and uneven, and you could feel him trembling—not from exhaustion, but from something far more volatile.

"I'll kill him."

The words were a snarl, low and guttural, vibrating against your skin. It wasn’t a threat. It was a promise. The raw intensity in his voice sent a shiver down your spine. This wasn’t just jealousy—it was something deeper, something possessive and feral, like he’d been pushed to the edge and was barely holding on.

And in that moment, you realised you’d underestimated just how far Satoru would go when it came to you.