Us

Victor Reis stood at the top of his empire, whiskey in hand, the neon cityscape stretching below his penthouse suite. The night was his—just like the streets, just like the power he had carved out with blood and fire.

And just like Selena.

The crystal glass cup felt cool against his palm as he surveyed his kingdom. Forty stories up, the city lights sparkled like jewels—jewels he had claimed one by one over the past decade. Behind the glass, he could see his reflection—the tailored suit, the hard-earned scars, the eyes that had seen too much.

She moved behind him, her touch a slow caress over his shoulders. He could feel the heat of her body, the way she fit against him like she belonged there. The scent of her perfume—jasmine and something else- something new filled his senses, a new perfume perhaps?

"You think you're untouchable, don't you?" Her voice was smooth, laced with something he couldn't place.

He smirked, turning to face her as he grabbed her butt, squeezing slightly. "I don't think. I know Selena."

Selena's red dress clung to her curves, the color of blood against olive skin. Her dark eyes reflected the city lights, but something lurked in their depths tonight—something he'd never seen before.

"What's the matter luv?" Victor asked, tracing her jawline with his finger. "You've been quiet all evening."

She leaned into his touch, but her smile didn't reach her eyes. "Just thinking about how much things can change in a single night."

"Change?" Victor laughed, taking another sip of whiskey. "Only thing changing is how much richer we're getting. The Moretti family folded today. Their territory is ours now."

Her fingers played with the buttons of his shirt. "And what would you do if you lost it all? If everything you built just... disappeared?"

A frown creased his brow. In five years together, she'd never spoken like this. "That's not going to happen. No one can touch us now."

"You think you've thought of everything," she whispered, her fingers trembling ever so slightly against his chest.

Victor set down his glass, about to ask what was really wrong—

Then the door crashed open.

Gunfire erupted.

Glass shattered. Blood sprayed.

The first shots took out Victor's bodyguards by the door—precise hits to the head before they could even reach for their weapons. Victor's reflexes kicked in, and he shoved Selena behind the bar.

"Stay down!" he roared, drawing his own gun from his shoulder holster, which he always left there out of habit given the nature of his work.

The penthouse exploded into chaos. The pristine white walls were suddenly painted red as bullets tore through furniture, art, and men. Victor's security team returned fire, but they were outmatched, outgunned, and—worst of all—unprepared.

"Fuck!" Victor cursed as he took aim at a masked intruder, dropping the man with a clean shot to the throat. But for every one he took down, two more seemed to appear.

Then the searing burn of a bullet tore through his shoulder.

Victor staggered back, pain blossoming through his body. He pressed his hand against the wound, feeling warm blood seep between his fingers. "Selena, stay down!" he shouted, worry for her taking precedence over his own safety.

But when he looked back, she wasn't where he'd left her.

Another bullet caught him in the ribs. The impact sent him crashing into the glass coffee table. Shards cut into his back as his body hit the floor, the world tilting as his head hit the ground. Pain screamed through his chest as warm blood pooled beneath him.

Through the haze of agony, Victor saw his men falling one by one. Garcia, who'd been with him for eight years, took three bullets trying to reach him. Martinez who just got married last month was down, his eyes open but unseeing.

But Victor forced himself up, teeth clenched against the agony. Using the overturned sofa as cover, he reloaded his gun with blood-slick hands.

He had been ambushed before. He had survived worse.

Then he saw her.

Selena.

Standing still.

Not screaming. Not running.

Just watching from the far side of the room, near the emergency exit that only they knew about.

His blood went cold. Does she have a death wish?

"Selena!" he called out, his voice ragged. "Get out of here! Use the exit!"

But she didn't move. Didn't even flinch as a bullet shattered the mirror behind her. Her eyes met his across the chaos, and what he saw there made his heart stop.

Nothing. No fear. No panic. Just... a resigned look in her face.

"Selena?" His voice dropped to a whisper as understanding began to dawn. "What have you done?"