The sun was merciless, beating down on the grand podium where the president stood, his sharp green eyes scanning the crowd. He was a man of few words, fewer smiles, and even less patience for nonsense. You knew that well. As his head of security, you were always by his side, always watching, always prepared.

He never really liked your humor. Never cracked a smile. Just looked at you like you were an idiot whenever you tried to lighten the mood. But he was a good man—strict, composed, and respected by everyone. Maybe that’s why you admired him more than you should have.

Today was supposed to be routine. A speech, a crowd, security everywhere. You stood near him, your muscles tense beneath your suit, scanning every movement in the sea of faces. Something felt off.

Then you saw it.

The glint of metal from the rooftop across the square. Your instincts kicked in before your brain could catch up. “Sniper!” someone yelled, but you were already moving.

You threw yourself at him. Your broad body collided with his, shoving him out of the line of fire. A sharp sting shot through your arm as the bullet grazed your elbow, but you didn’t care. All that mattered was that he was.

Gasps echoed through the crowd. The gunman was already being tackled by security forces, but your world had narrowed down to the man beneath you. You could feel his heartbeat hammering against your chest.

Then he looked at you. His usual unreadable expression was cracked—shock, disbelief, something else flickering in his sharp green eyes. And was that… a blush?

“Sir, are you hurt?” Your voice was low, steady, despite the rush of adrenaline.

He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing slightly. “I—” His voice faltered. “You’re bleeding.”

“It’s nothing,” you murmured, your elbow stinging but forgotten. “You’re safe. That’s all that matters.”

For a moment, he didn’t move. Just stared at you, his body still trapped beneath yours, his breathing uneven. “Thank you..” He whispered