3

He was right.

I was still there.

Still letting him touch me, kiss me, consume me.

The danger between us was electric, and it only made everything sharper, more intense.

I could feel the weight of his past, the shadows that clung to him, and I knew he was just as broken as I was.

But in this moment, it didn’t matter.

Nothing mattered except the way his body felt against mine, the way his hands gripped me like he was afraid I would slip away.

His hand slid lower, between my legs, and I gasped, my body tensing at the sudden shock of pleasure.

My heart pounded in my chest, and I bit my lip to keep from crying out as his fingers moved with agonizing slowness, teasing, pushing me to the edge.

“Kareem—” I tried to speak, but my words were cut off by another wave of pleasure, my body reacting to his every touch, every movement.

I didn’t want to want him this much.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

But it was.

In the silence between us, filled only with ragged breaths and the pulse of need, the world outside seemed to fade away.

The danger, the bombs, the lies—it all disappeared.

All that was left was him.

And I was falling, deeper into the darkness, unable to stop myself.

And I wasn’t sure I ever wanted to.

1

AQSA

The smell of smoke and burning metal clung to the air as I stepped over the debris.

The latest bombing had left the street in ruins, the once-busy road now littered with shattered glass, overturned cars, and bodies.

I pulled my scarf tighter around my face to block out the stench.

We’d been here too many times before.

The sirens from the ambulances echoed in the distance, and my radio crackled to life with reports of casualties.

I didn’t need to hear the numbers.

I could see them.

People were screaming, clutching at their wounds, and crying out for help.

My heart raced, but I forced myself to focus. I had a job to do.

"Masood, we need you by the building’s entrance," came a voice through the radio.

I recognized it as Officer Qadir, one of the first responders.

His voice was shaky.

No one ever got used to this.

I made my way to the front of the destroyed building, dodging through the crowd of panicked civilians.

My hands trembled slightly as I pulled out my medical kit.

I had been doing this for years, but every attack felt worse than the last.

I never got used to the blood.

The screaming.

The sheer destruction.

As I reached the entrance, a man was standing in my way.

He was tall, broad-shouldered, and dressed in a dark suit.

He didn’t belong here.

His sharp, calculating eyes were scanning the scene as if he were studying it.

Like he wasn’t affected by the chaos around him.

I shot him a glare, motioning for him to move aside.

"Excuse me, I need to get through," I said, raising my voice over the noise.

His eyes flicked toward me, cold and unreadable, but he didn’t budge.

“You don’t want to go in there,” he said, his voice deep and calm, like he knew more than he was letting on.

“I don’t have time for this,” I snapped, trying to push past him.

But his arm shot out, stopping me in my tracks.

"You’ll be walking into a death trap,” he warned, lowering his voice. “There’s likely a secondary device still inside. They always leave a second one. It’s how they operate.”

I froze, my heart pounding.

He sounded like he knew what he was talking about, but who the hell was this guy?

I didn’t have time to play games.

People were dying. I shot him another look, then glanced at the building, uncertainty gnawing at me.

"Who are you?" I demanded, trying to figure out if I should trust him.

“Just someone who knows what’s going on,” he said, stepping back slightly. “Kareem Ali.”

Kareem Ali.

The name didn’t mean anything to me, but there was something about him that set me on edge.

He had a presence, the kind that made people take notice even in the middle of a disaster.