Memory ambushed her—vivid and unbidden.
A Years Earlier | Industrial District
Rain fell in sheets against rusted steel. Nora moved through the warehouse like a shadow given purpose. There—a boy sat bound to a metal chair, his face bloodied. He possessed the kind of youthful beauty that felt almost unreal—golden hair catching the light like a halo, eyes as blue and clear as a summer sky.
Three armed men argued over payment nearby.
She didn't hesitate.
A strike to the first man's carotid. A spinning kick that shattered the second's wrist. The third managed a wild shot before her elbow connected with his temple. Sixty-three seconds. Three bodies lay motionless on the concrete floor.
She sliced through the ropes with a concealed blade. "Can you walk?"
The boy—no, the young man—massaged his wrists, eyes burning with an unnerving mix of intelligence and awe. "Leo Vanderbilt. You fight like lightning wearing human skin."
"Nora Blake. Save the poetry—we're not clear yet." She pulled him toward the emergency exit.
As they emerged into the storm, his hand closed around her arm, not with fear, but startling certainty. "This isn't over, Officer Blake. I'm rather excellent at repaying my debts."
She dismissed it as adrenaline and trauma talking.
Three Months Later | Precinct Steps
A ludicrous cascade of blood-red roses—enough to supply a royal wedding—blocked her path.
Leo stood leaning against an obsidian-black luxury coupe, no longer a bruised boy but a sun-kissed vision of casual elegance. A playful, unshakeable confidence radiated from him. "Have dinner with me tonight, Nora."
Nora sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Leo. You're too young. And I have a boyfriend."
"I'm almost eighteen now," he said, stepping closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper that was both teasing and deadly serious. "And as for him... I don't mind. I can share. Or he can watch. I'm versatile."
Nora blinked, thrown entirely off guard by the audacious, utterly sincere offer. A laugh, sharp and surprised, escaped her before she could stop it. She shook her head, sidestepping the floral monstrosity. "You're impossible."
"I'm persistent," he called after her, his voice light and utterly unfazed by her rejection. "And I never accept defeat. Especially when the prize is you."
His words, a blend of charming obsession and cheerful defiance, followed her down the street, leaving her more unsettled—and curiously intrigued—than she cared to admit.
Present Day | Archer's Dining Room
Archer settled back into his chair, the movement fluid and controlled. He picked up the fork once more, offering the decadent bite of cake to her lips with an air of unshakable possession.
"Don't get your hopes up," he said, his voice a low, velvety threat. "No one can take you away from me."
Nora held his gaze, her own like polished steel. "I can't stay here forever. When will you let me go?"
A slow, dangerous smile touched his mouth. "When you start to fall for me."
She drew a sharp breath, her posture tightening with resolve. "Then let's make it interesting. A wager. A fair fight. Hand to hand. No guns, no hostages. If I win, you let us walk free."
Archer's eyes ignited with fierce, predatory interest. The thrill of the challenge curled through his voice. "An intriguing proposal." He leaned forward, the intensity around him sharpening. "But when you lose… you obey every command. Deal?"
A cool, confident smile touched her lips. "Deal," she said, the word final and absolute. "I don't lose."
"Ok then, 11 am."