Basement

The gunfire stopped about thirty seconds after Kieran and Elliot crashed through the building's entrance, but Kieran's heart was still racing like he'd run a marathon. His shoulder burned where the bullet had grazed him, blood soaking through his torn shirt, but that wasn't important right now. What was important was getting Elliot somewhere secure before the shooters decided to come inside and finish the job.

"Move," Kieran ordered, pulling Elliot away from the security desk where they'd taken cover. The lobby was chaotic, screaming people, blaring alarms, security guards shouting into radios. Kieran's tactical training cut through the noise, his mind already mapping exit points and vulnerabilities. This building wasn't safe. Too many entrances, too many windows, too exposed.

"Where are we going?" Elliot asked, his voice rough. His expensive suit was covered in concrete dust and broken glass, his silver-white hair disheveled. He looked shaken in a way Kieran had never seen before, the usual arrogant confidence completely gone.

"Basement. Now." Kieran kept moving, one hand gripping Elliot's wrist, the other reaching for his phone. No signal. He tried anyway, pulling up the emergency contact for his agency. The call failed immediately. "Fuck."

They hit the stairwell and Kieran took them down fast, his combat boots echoing on the concrete steps. His mind was racing through the situation. Multiple shooters with elevated positions. Professional equipment and training. Coordinated timing. This wasn't some random hit. This was a planned assassination attempt with serious resources behind it. Marcus Sinclair had to be behind this.

They reached the basement level and Kieran pulled Elliot into the dimly lit corridor. His eyes adjusted quickly, scanning for options. Then he spotted it. A heavy reinforced door with a biometric scanner, marked with faded lettering: "EMERGENCY SECURE ROOM."

A panic room. Every modern corporate building had them. Secure locations designed to keep executives safe during emergencies. This was exactly what they needed.

Kieran approached the door and found the manual override panel. He punched in the universal emergency code—9-1-1-2-0-0-1—and the lock clicked open with a heavy mechanical sound.

"Inside," Kieran ordered, pushing Elliot through the doorway. The room beyond was small, maybe ten by twelve feet, with concrete walls, no windows, and basic emergency supplies on metal shelves. A bench along one wall. Emergency blankets. First aid kit. Bottled water.

Kieran stepped in behind Elliot and pulled the heavy door shut. It is sealed with a pressurized hiss and multiple locks engaged automatically. A red light above the door started blinking and a digital display showed: "LOCKDOWN ACTIVE - 12:00:00."

"What does that mean?" Elliot asked, watching the timer start counting down.

"It means we're locked in here for twelve hours minimum," Kieran explained, already checking his phone again. Still no signal. The reinforced construction that made this room safe also blocked all cellular and wireless signals. He found the emergency landline phone mounted on the wall and picked it up. Dead. "Someone cut the building's communications. We can't call out."

Elliot processed this, his golden eyes sharp despite the fear Kieran could still smell on him. "So we're stuck here. For twelve hours. With no way to contact anyone."

"Yeah." Kieran holstered his gun and turned to face Elliot fully. "But we're safe. These rooms are designed to withstand pretty much anything. Nobody's getting through that door."

"Safe but trapped." Elliot laughed, but it sounded shaky. He ran both hands through his silver-white hair, making it stand up in messy spikes. "Fuck. That was... those were actual bullets. Someone actually tried to kill me. Multiple people."

"Sit down before you fall down," Kieran said, recognizing the signs of shock setting in. He grabbed a bottle of water from the supplies and handed it to Elliot. "Drink. Slowly."

Elliot obeyed, sinking onto the bench and taking small sips while his hands shook slightly. Kieran watched him carefully, monitoring for any signs of injury he might have missed in the chaos. But aside from some cuts from broken glass and the general dishevelment, Elliot seemed physically fine.

Unlike Kieran, who was definitely bleeding. His shoulder burned and he could feel warm wetness spreading down his arm under his torn tactical shirt. The bullet graze wasn't serious but it needed to be cleaned and bandaged.

"You're hurt." Elliot's voice cut through Kieran's assessment. The alpha was staring at the blood on Kieran's shoulder, his expression shifting from shock to concern. "Let me see."

"It's fine. Just a graze."

"Bullshit. You're bleeding everywhere." Elliot stood up, some of his usual commanding presence returning as he crossed the small space. "Sit. Let me look at it."

"I can handle it myself—"

"Sit down, Kieran." Elliot's voice took on that alpha edge. "You've spent the last hour protecting me. Let me do this one thing. Please."

The please was what did it. Kieran sat on the bench and let Elliot carefully peel away his torn, bloody shirt. The movement pulled at the wound and Kieran hissed through his teeth at the sharp pain.

"Sorry," Elliot murmured. He grabbed the first aid kit from the shelves and knelt in front of Kieran, golden eyes focused intently on the injury. "This looks bad."

"I've had worse." Kieran tried to keep his voice steady even though having Elliot this close, kneeling between his legs, was doing things to his composure. He could smell Elliot so strongly here cinnamon and dark spice and alpha pheromones that his suppressants couldn't fully block. It made his omega instincts stir in ways he'd been fighting for weeks.

Elliot worked carefully, cleaning the wound with antiseptic that burned like hell. His hands were surprisingly gentle for someone who'd probably never given first aid in his privileged life. "Tell me if I'm hurting you."

"You're fine." Kieran forced himself to breathe normally even though every touch sent electricity through his skin. He needed to get control of himself. This was just biology. Just his omega body reacting to a powerful alpha. It didn't mean anything.

"You saved my life out there," Elliot said quietly, applying antibacterial ointment with careful precision. "You covered me with your own body. That bullet that grazed you would have hit me in the head if you hadn't pushed me down. You literally took a bullet meant for me."

"That's my job."

"It's more than a job when someone is willing to die for you." Elliot's eyes flicked up to meet him briefly before returning to the wound. "I owe you my life."

"You don't owe me anything. You pay me very well to keep you alive." Kieran kept his voice flat and professional, even though his heart was racing from the proximity. "That's the extent of our relationship."

Something flickered in Elliot's expression, maybe disappointment, maybe relief. He finished bandaging the wound, his fingers lingering on Kieran's shoulder for just a moment before he pulled back and stood up. "There. That should hold until we can get you to a proper doctor."

"Thanks." Kieran immediately grabbed his torn shirt and pulled it back on, needing the barrier between his skin and Elliot's eyes. The alpha was looking at him with an expression Kieran couldn't quite read. Curiosity maybe. Interest. But not the kind of interest that meant anything real. Just an alpha reacting to an omega's proximity.