The night reeked of smoke and the remnants of chaos. Sirens blared somewhere behind you, growing louder, but running wasn’t an option — not yet.

Jason was ahead, his boots splashing through shallow puddles as he rounded the corner into the narrow alley. You followed, chest tight, adrenaline humming under your skin.

Then it happened.

A sharp report rang out — sudden, piercing. You barely registered the flash before Jason moved.

“Jason!” you shouted, too late to stop him.

He turned just enough to spot the source, then lunged — not away from you, but toward you.

You stumbled, hitting the ground with a jolt. For a heartbeat, you didn’t understand why he was holding you down, why his weight pressed firmly against yours — until you noticed the dark stains spreading across his jacket under the dim streetlights.

“You’re hurt,” you gasped, reaching for him, but he kept you steady.

“Stay still,” he growled, his gaze scanning the alley. His voice was tense, controlled — the kind of control that keeps everything from spiraling further.

“You’re bleeding,” you said, panic rising in your chest.

Jason managed a small, wry grin, brushing a hand across his jacket. “Not my first scrape.”

“Jason, this isn’t—”

“I know,” he cut in, finally pushing himself upright using the wall for support. His hands trembled slightly, but his grip on his gun was firm, alert.

By the time the sirens got closer, the alley was empty. Jason swayed slightly on his feet, but he held his stance.

You grabbed his arm, scolding him as your heart raced. “You didn’t have to throw yourself in front of me like that—”

“Yes, I did,” he said quietly, voice steady and intense. “If it keeps you safe, I’d do it again in a heartbeat. Now let’s move before this turns into another scene.”

There was no arguing with him. You slid your arm through his, letting him lean on you as the two of you made your way out of the alley, the night heavy around you but somehow… safer now.