I woke to the suffocating darkness, the kind that presses against your chest and makes the world feel impossibly large and impossibly small at the same time. Shadows moved across the walls, stretching and curling like living things, dancing to some silent rhythm that only the night could hear. My body felt heavy, weighed down by all the secrets we carried, the choices we'd made, the promises we'd broken and kept. Every moment with Slavvy left me breathless, but also hollow, as if a piece of me had been quietly slipping away, sinking into the abyss.
The only sound in the room was his breathing. Slow. Steady. Measured. In a world that had nothing steady, nothing safe, it was a rare comfort.
I slid from the bed, my bare feet brushing against the cold floor. Each step was careful, deliberate, like I was sneaking through a haunted house. Darkness wrapped itself around me, pressing against my skin, wrapping me in its cool, silent embrace.
"Slavvy?" My voice was tentative, barely a whisper, as though speaking too loudly would shatter the fragile calm of the house.
He stood by the kitchen window, framed against the pale silver of the moonlight. His silhouette was sharp, rigid, and yet fluid with contained power. The glass of water in his hand trembled slightly, catching the light in tiny, fleeting sparkles, like a promise too fragile to hold onto. His eyes caught the moonlight, reflecting it in a way that made them seem alive, almost too bright in the encompassing darkness.
I moved closer, drawn by some magnetic pull I could neither explain nor resist. My arms found their way around him, pressing into his back, seeking warmth and certainty. His scent reached me—a rich mixture of smoke, leather, and something uniquely his own, grounding me even as the night threatened to swallow us whole.
"What's on your mind?" I murmured, my lips brushing his shoulder.
He turned slowly, his eyes locking onto mine with a force that made my heart stumble. "If we're going to last—if we're going to survive—we need to make memories that matter," he said, voice low, deliberate, every word weighted with a gravity I could feel in my chest. "Memories worth the risk. Worth the danger."
A shiver ran down my spine. Memories worth dying for. That was what he meant. We weren't just lovers; we were partners, bound by blood, by loyalty, and by the shared danger of a life lived in the shadows.
I tried to lighten the moment with a weak laugh, but it fell flat. "Don't joke like that."
He offered a small, somber smile, the kind that didn't reach his eyes. "I hate the shadows, Tess. I hate the silence. It's lonely… suffocating."
He lifted me then, slowly, deliberately, as if he were afraid to break me, even in a world that had already tried. My arms wrapped around him instinctively. We were still in the kitchen, but the room felt smaller, tighter, more real. The scattered books, the cold tiles, the whisper of moonlight—everything faded around the warmth and weight of his body pressed against mine.
"All this… just for me?" I whispered.
"Always," he murmured, pressing his forehead to mine. "Every piece of me is yours. You have it all."
We stayed like that for a long moment. I could feel his heartbeat in his chest, steady and strong, and it became a rhythm I could follow, a rhythm that reminded me we were still alive, still here. Every movement, every breath, every shared heartbeat was an unspoken promise: no matter what came, we would face it together.
Then the quiet shattered.
Glass exploded around us, spraying the floor in glittering shards. The first gunshots rang out, echoing through the house like the cracks in the foundation of our world.
"Tess!" His voice cut through the chaos, sharp and commanding.
We moved in unison, bodies trained by instinct. Each step, each breath, each heartbeat was synchronized, a slow dance with danger. Shadows became allies, walls became cover, and every second stretched into eternity.
"Stay close!" I hissed, pressing against him as we moved through the chaos.
Figures in black emerged from the darkness, guns catching the faint light. Time seemed to stretch, each movement magnified. The night air was thick with tension, every step a risk, every breath a gamble.
The rooftop loomed ahead, a fragile promise of safety above the chaos. But one figure remained, moving with lethal precision, head covered, eyes bright with malice.
Time slowed to a crawl. My fingers grasped at the edge, slipping against the cold concrete.
"Slavvy!" My voice cracked, fragile against the roar of the city below.
His hand shot out, strong and sure, gripping my wrist and hauling me back onto solid ground. Relief, sharp and overwhelming, collided with the fear that still raced through my veins.
"Tess… I thought I lost you," he whispered, voice trembling.
"I'm here," I said, pressing against him, feeling the solid weight of him anchor me.
"I've got you," he said, steady now. "I'll never let you go."
Tears streaked his face, hot and salty, dripping onto my skin. "I should've protected you…"
"You always do," I whispered. "You always save me."
He shook his head, grief etched deep into his features. "I'm not enough."
"You are everything," I said, voice breaking. "Everything to me."
We stayed like that for a long while, holding onto each other in the aftermath, letting the night breathe around us. Even with the threat still lurking below, the danger of the world pressing in, I felt a fragile sense of safety. For tonight, we were untouchable.
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