The warehouse smelled like sweat, blood, and cigarette smoke. Cole sat in a chair, wrists bound behind him, his face bruised and lip split. Despite his injuries, he still carried that arrogant smirk, his head tilted as he stared at Rik.

Rik lounged in front of him, swirling a glass of whiskey. “You know, I expected you to beg by now.”

Cole chuckled, rolling his tongue over his injured lip. “That’s your first mistake—thinking I’d ever beg for anything.”

Rik sighed, setting his drink down. “Shame. I could’ve given you a good time.”

Before Cole could reply, gunshots erupted from the hall.

The guards barely had time to react before the door burst open.

Daniel moved like a shadow, his gun raised. His sharp gaze scanned the room before locking onto Cole.

“Get away from him.”

Rik smirked, stepping back with his hands up. “Ah, here comes the knight in shining armor.”

Daniel ignored him, cutting through the distance between him and Cole. He swiftly untied him, his movements rough. “Can you walk?”

Cole rolled his shoulders. “Obviously.”

“Then move.”

Daniel grabbed Cole’s arm, pulling him up and out of the room. His grip was tight, his anger radiating off him in waves.

The moment they arrived at the mansion, Daniel dragged Cole into a private room, slamming the door behind them.

“What the fuck were you thinking?”

Cole sighed, rubbing his sore wrists. “Not in the mood for this.”

Daniel took a step closer. “You went alone. No bodyguards. Do you have a fucking death wish?”

Cole scoffed. “I can handle myself.”

Daniel clenched his fists. “Bullshit. You almost got yourself killed.”

Cole finally looked at him, something flickering in his gaze. “…I needed to forget.”

Daniel’s anger wavered. “Forget what?”

A long pause. Then, softly—“You.”

Daniel’s breath hitched.

“...What?”

Cole exhaled, his expression unreadable. “I went there to forget about you.”

Silence filled the room, heavy and suffocating.

Daniel should’ve walked away. Should’ve ignored the way his pulse raced.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he grabbed Cole by the collar and crashed their lips together.

Cole didn’t hesitate. He pulled Daniel closer, deepening the kiss, devouring him.

The door shut behind them with a soft click. Cole pushed Daniel against it, their breaths mingling.

Daniel’s fingers curled into Cole’s shirt. “You’re not getting away with what you did to me,” he muttered.

Cole smirked, whispering against his skin, “Then punish me.”

Daniel let out a sharp breath as Cole’s hands slid under his shirt, tracing every scar, every inch of burning skin.

Clothes were lost in a blur—heat, friction, and fire consuming them.

Cole pushed Daniel onto the bed, hovering over him. But this time, he wasn’t rushing. This time, he was savoring.

His lips trailed along Daniel’s jaw, his fingers ghosting over bruised wrists. “I’m sorry.”

Daniel frowned slightly, dazed. “For what?”

Cole’s fingers tightened around Daniel’s. “For last time. For taking without thinking.”

Daniel swallowed hard, his chest rising and falling. “...Then don’t stop.”

Cole’s lips curled into a wicked smirk. “I wasn’t planning to.”

That night, Daniel learned exactly what it meant to be wanted by Cole.

Outside the mansion, Rik sat in his car, watching.

He had followed them back. He had seen Daniel storming into the house, dragging Cole along. And something inside him snapped.

Daniel should be his.

From that moment on, Rik knew—he wasn’t going to let Daniel go.