After changing into oversized clothes to blend in, we strolled down the slick Paris streets, pretending to be invisible. Just two nobodies in the city of lights.
Until Walter suddenly slowed down.
His entire body stiffened.
I followed his gaze—and saw a tall man in black cutting through the crowd, eyes scanning too carefully, too deliberately. Not a tourist. Not a bystander.
"He's one of them," Walter muttered, jaw clenched.
Before I could ask anything, he stepped in front of me—hands at the hem of my hoodie.
"Walter—what are you doing?" I gasped.
Without a word, he pulled the oversized hoodie off in one smooth motion, revealing the tight tank top clinging to my rain-damp skin.
"They're watching," he said. "The baggy look will draw more suspicion now. You need to look like someone else. Like… this."
I barely had time to react.
His fingers slid under my jaw and tilted my face toward his. His eyes darkened—not cold, but full of fire.
"Kiss me."
"What?" I blinked, stunned.
"Don't argue. He's coming closer. If we look like lovers, he won't question it."
His voice dropped to a murmur.
"Kiss me right now and I'll owe you anything you ask for."
I could see the man nearing.
Without thinking, I reached up and grabbed Walter by the collar, pulling him into a kiss.
And he didn't hesitate.
His mouth crashed into mine—not softly, not gently, but like he'd been holding back every emotion for far too long. The world faded. It wasn't just for show anymore. He kissed me like I was the only air he'd breathe again.
His hands found my waist, drawing me in. My fingers curled into his damp shirt. The heat between us spiked, electric and wild, and I knew deep down—we were past pretending.
Even after the man walked by, I didn't stop.
Neither did he.
When we finally broke apart, my lips tingled, and my heart thumped so loud I was sure the Eiffel Tower could hear it.
I stepped away, breathless.
"We should go," I said, more to the rising ache in my chest than to him.
Walter ran a hand through his hair, pretending to brush it off, but I could see it—the fire behind his eyes had been lit.
We walked in silence as the rain started to fall, soft at first, then harder. It soaked the streets in a cinematic shimmer. Paris was always beautiful, but now it looked like the scene of a dream… or a nightmare.
Then everything exploded.
A black SUV cut through traffic. Walter's enemies were here.
"There are two roads ahead," he said, scanning the chaos. "They merge in two blocks. We'll split up to throw them off. Run fast. I'll meet you at the end."
"Wait—" I began, but there wasn't time.
I nodded and ran.
My feet slapped the pavement, water splashing up my ankles. The cold stung, but I kept going, eyes fixed on the road ahead.
Then I saw it.
A tiny white puppy, shivering, stuck in a pothole filling with rain.
My heart screamed keep running. But something inside me cracked.
I turned back.
Kneeling in the pouring rain, I pulled the terrified pup into my arms. Its fur was soaked, but it licked my chin like it knew I had a heart.
That's when I heard them.
Footsteps. Heavy and closing in.
Three towering men surrounded me.
"What are doing sweethear? Didnt your handsome boyfriend warned you not to wonder around? ," one sneered.
I hugged the puppy tighter, backing away.
One reached for my wrist.
But before he could touch me, a flash of movement slammed into him.
Walter.
He came out of nowhere like thunder, and punched the first man so hard his feet left the ground.
All hell broke loose.
Walter was a storm, fists flying, blocks fast and brutal. One man went down with a kick to the gut, another staggered from a crack across the jaw. But then—
A steel pipe.
Crack.
Walter took the hit straight to his side. He fell to one knee, gasping—but still fighting.
I panicked.
"No!" I screamed, rushing forward, the puppy still in my arms. "Don't you touch him!"
I shoved one of the men away, trying to create distance—but he backhanded me hard. Pain shot down my side and I stumbled, falling against the cobbled street.
The puppy whimpered in my arms.
Walter saw.
His eyes turned feral. Black. Burning. Dangerous.
"You. Touched. Her."
His voice was cold rage—and then he exploded. That wasn't a like a human anymore that was a beast.
He launched himself at them, a man possessed.
One he slammed into a wall. Another he tackled and punched again and again until he stopped moving. The last tried to run, but Walter grabbed him, spun him around, and knocked him out with a single hit that sounded like a gunshot.
Then everything went still.
Walter stood—drenched, bruised, bleeding from the side—but alive. Breathing hard.
And I couldn't hold back anymore.
I ran to him, dropping the puppy gently beside me.
"Walter!" I sobbed. "You're hurt—God, I'm so sorry—I shouldn't have tried to help—"
"Don't you dare blame yourself," he breathed, voice raspy. "If anything had happened to you—"
But I didn't let him finish.
I threw my arms around him.
And then—I kissed him.
Not out of fear.
Not as a distraction.
But because everything inside me was fire and panic and relief and love—and it all needed somewhere to go.
Our lips crashed together in the middle of the rainy Paris street, bruised and wet and desperate. His hands cupped my face like I was something fragile and sacred. My fingers curled into his soaked shirt, holding on like I'd lose him if I let go.
The world blurred.
It was just us, the puppy huddled beside us, and the sound of rain falling on shattered silence.