5 — Kiss

Red lights carved the silence into pieces.

The emergency sirens pulsed like a second heartbeat through the Tower, their rhythm syncing with the ragged edges of gunfire echoing up from the lower levels.

Domenik moved fast, one hand wrapped tight around Eirwen’s wrist, dragging her through black halls now streaked with blood.

“You stay behind me,” he said without looking back, “or you don’t stay at all.”

Eirwen didn’t argue.

Not because she agreed.

But because she couldn’t breathe.

Every corridor shimmered like heatstroke. Security doors slammed closed behind them, one by one, sealing with brutal finality. Somewhere above, glass shattered. Somewhere below, the Wards were dying.

And Marsel’s voice came through the wall speakers, filtered through distortion:

“You trained me too well.”

Domenik didn’t react.

But Eirwen felt his grip tighten—just enough to bruise.

They rounded a corner and—

Ash went down.

The Ward crumpled mid-stride. A sniper round, silent and perfect. Blood spilled across white marble. His eyes never even closed.

Domenik didn’t pause.

He pulled her toward a recessed panel and slammed his palm against the scanner. The wall hissed open.

They fell into the lockdown chamber together.

Steel swallowed them.

And the door sealed with a sound like teeth clenching.

The room was heat and pressure.

Red emergency light painted everything in blood tones. There were no vents. No AI. No exit. Only walls of steel and the sound of her own breath catching in her chest.

Domenik stood in front of her, one arm braced against the wall, the other still holding her wrist.

Her back hit the cold metal.

His body blocked everything else.

“You planning on hiding in here while your empire burns?” she said, low.

His eyes didn’t move. “You think this is hiding?”

She pushed him.

It was stupid. Reflexive. But her blood was fire, her skin still buzzing from adrenaline and proximity.

His hand shot up, grabbed her wrist mid-swing, and slammed it back against the wall beside her head.

She gasped.

But not from fear.

He stepped in.

His chest against hers.

His breath on her cheek.

She turned her face away—barely.

“Go ahead,” she snapped. “You’ve wanted to since the moment I saw you.”

He said nothing.

Just stared at her mouth.

And then—

He kissed her.

There was no restraint. No softness.

Just command.

His mouth crashed into hers like war—heat and pressure and the metallic taste of adrenaline. She opened without meaning to, teeth clashing against his, body instinctively responding before thought could intervene.

She hated how much she wanted it.

And worse—how much she gave.

Her hands found the lapels of his coat and pulled. His grip pinned her tighter. The wall behind her was vibrating. Or maybe it was her. Maybe she was trembling. She didn’t know anymore.

She bit his lip.

He didn’t flinch.

He liked it.

And when he pulled back—barely—his mouth was slick, his voice low, wrecked.

“I warned you,” he murmured, “what silence felt like.”

She was breathing like she’d run ten miles.

Eyes glazed. Lips parted. Skin electric.

She wanted to slap him.

She wanted to kiss him again.

She wanted to break.

For a long moment, neither of them moved.

Then he let go of her wrists.

Stepped back, slow and precise.

She stared at him. Hands still trembling. Throat dry.

“That’s not how you take control,” she whispered.

“No,” he said. “It’s how I remind you you never had it.”

“You think you won something just now?”

He smiled without joy. “You weren’t running.”

She didn’t answer.

Not with words.

A chime interrupted the moment. Static fuzzed through the intercom.

Marsel’s voice again. Clearer this time. Close.

“Tell me, Domenik—do you think she’d still kiss you if she saw what’s in the lower vault?”

Domenik didn’t respond.

But Eirwen did.

Her eyes locked on him.

“Vault?” she said. “What vault?”

He stayed silent.

And silence, in his world, was confirmation.

Eirwen stepped forward. Slow. Deliberate.

“You kissed me like you owned me,” she said, voice shaking.

“But if you lie to me again—”

She paused.

Met his eyes.

“I’ll burn this whole empire with my bare hands.”

He didn’t blink.

Didn’t move.

But for the first time—

He looked a little less invincible.

A little less clean.

A little more… hers.

Then came the quiet.

Not the kind Domenik owned.

But the kind that precedes impact.

A soft tremor in the floor.

Lights flickering again.

Far-off steel screaming.

A wolf’s silhouette in red, flickering on the security panel.

The Várgr were inside.

And this time?

They weren’t coming for files.

They were coming for blood.