Desire was a very dangerous weapon,they were both painfully aware of it now.
Not the danger outside even though that loomed closer each day but the danger between them.
Kairo had always known he was handsome.A pure breed Londoner from the East end. The world reminded him constantly. Cameras loved the hard lines of his face, the brutal symmetry of a fighter carved by discipline and violence. Broad shoulders, scarred knuckles, eyes dark with something untamed. Power lived in him visibly, unmistakably.
But Naya didn't look at him like the world did.
She looked at him like she saw the cost.
That was what undid him.
And Naya that Irish Londoner babe,beautiful in a way that wasn't designed to be consumed was harder to ignore with each passing day. Her beauty wasn't loud. It revealed itself slowly: the strength in her posture, the quiet confidence in her stride, the softness that surfaced only when she forgot to hide it.Kairo noticed everything.
The curve of her mouth when she focused.
The way her eyes darkened when she was tired. The scar along her jaw that somehow made her more devastating, not less.
She noticed him too no matter how much she denied it.
The way his presence filled a room.
The way his voice dropped when he was serious.The way restraint sat on him like a barely held promise.They wanted each other.
That was the truth.And truth was the most dangerous thing of all.
The pressure came from outside first.
A burner phone lit up in Naya's pocket one evening an untraceable number, silent vibration only. Her body reacted before her mind did.She went still.
Kairo saw it instantly.
"What is it?" he asked.
"Nothing," she replied too quickly.
He stepped closer. "That's a lie."
She turned away, jaw tight, eyes sharp. "We've been compromised. Not here but close."
His muscles tensed. "So this is about me."
"This is about you staying alive," she snapped.The air crackled.
The enemy was tightening the circle. Surveillance drones spotted offshore. A shadowed figure photographed near the private dock. A warning not an attack.
Yet.
Fear sharpened everything.
Including desire.That night, they trained together—harder than usual. Movement fast, bodies close, breaths heavy. A sparring session turned rougher than planned, adrenaline bleeding into something else.
Kairo pinned her wrist during a maneuver.
Too close.Her back hit the mat. His weight hovered above her, controlled but undeniable.Their breathing tangled.
For a heartbeat, neither moved.
His eyes traced her face without permission her mouth, her lashes, the flush rising along her skin. She felt it like heat, like threat, like hunger.
"This isn't professional," she said quietly.
"No," he agreed, voice low. "It isn't."
But he didn't let go.Neither did she.
The denial cracked not fully, not yet but enough to let the truth leak through.
They were not immune.They were simply disciplined.And discipline had limits.
A sharp alert sounded from the security system, shattering the moment. Motion detected near the perimeter.
They broke apart instantly back into roles, into armor.
Enemies had a way of arriving at the worst possible moments.
Later, alone in his room, Kairo pressed his palms to his face.
He wanted her not as a conquest, not as an escape but as something terrifyingly permanent.Down the hall, Naya stood under cold water, willing her pulse to slow.
She wanted him too.
And that was the problem,Because wanting someone meant something could be taken from you.And the enemies outside?
They were getting closer.
Which meant the walls between Kairo and Naya already crackedwere about to come down.
Whether they were ready…Or not.