Natt’s fingers trembled as he pressed his back against the cold wall of the abandoned warehouse. He had escaped the van earlier, using the lessons Kiro had reluctantly taught him—basic maneuvers, quick reflexes, and ways to slip past enemies without being seen. Every step, every breath, carried the echo of Kiro’s voice: “Stay calm. Focus. You can do this.”

He peered through a narrow crack in the wall. The syndicate members were moving cautiously, unaware that their prey had already slipped from their grasp. Natt swallowed, heart hammering in his chest.

I can do this. I can survive… I have to, he told himself, tightening his grip on the makeshift weapon he had found—a metal pipe.

And then he heard the faintest sound behind him. A shuffle. A breath. His stomach dropped.

“Kiro!” he whispered, panic rising.

Kiro didn’t answer. But Natt didn’t need to see him to know he was close. The faint scuff of boots, the subtle hum of suppressed anger—every instinct honed by years of survival screamed that Kiro had arrived.

Moments later, the warehouse doors burst open. Natt ducked instinctively, swinging the pipe at a guard who had stumbled into his path. The man yelped, doubling over, giving Natt a precious few seconds to move further into the shadows.

And then he saw him.

Kiro moved like a force of nature. Every step was precise, lethal, and terrifying. Syndicate members fell before him, incapacitated or unconscious, barely able to comprehend what had struck them. His dark coat flared with movement, his eyes sharp and cold, hands steady as he disarmed one opponent and used him as a shield against another.

Natt froze, heart pounding, mesmerized. He had seen Kiro in action before, but never like this—never so ruthless, so utterly untouchable. There was no hesitation, no mercy, just calculated efficiency and lethal precision.

I’ve never been this scared… Natt thought, stepping back instinctively.

Kiro’s eyes flicked toward him for just a moment, and Natt caught the cold edge there, the raw force that said: Stay back. I will protect you… but I will not hesitate.

Natt’s chest tightened. He had always admired Kiro—always felt safe with him—but this side, this hitman mode, was terrifying. He realized, in that moment, that he didn’t just fear the syndicate; he feared Kiro. Not because he would hurt him, but because Kiro was untouchable, relentless, and dangerous in a way Natt had never fully understood.

The fight ended almost as abruptly as it had begun. Kiro stood in the center of the warehouse, breathing heavily but controlled, surveying the unconscious men around him. His eyes softened slightly when they found Natt, still pressed against the wall.

“Kiro…” Natt whispered, voice shaking.

Kiro approached, but Natt flinched back. “Stay back,” he murmured, hands raised defensively.

Kiro froze, sensing the fear radiating from him. For a fraction of a second, the world felt heavy, and Kiro’s jaw tightened. He had always known his presence could intimidate, but seeing Natt recoil in fear—seeing that vulnerability—hit him harder than any bullet or blow ever could.

“You’re… scared of me,” Kiro said quietly, almost to himself.

Natt’s hands faltered. “I… I’m not… I’m not scared of you. Only… scared of losing you,” he admitted, voice barely above a whisper.

The words hung in the air, fragile and electric. Kiro’s eyes flicked down at Natt’s trembling hands, then up into his eyes, reading the fear, the trust, the vulnerability. Slowly, he pulled back, stepping away emotionally, closing off just enough to shield himself from the raw honesty.

Before either of them could dwell too long on the moment, Rin appeared—leaning casually against a steel beam, his gun slung over his shoulder, a smirk on his face that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“You’re impressive,” Rin said, voice low and dangerous. “But even you can’t do it alone.”

Kiro’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t need help,” he said flatly.

Rin’s smirk deepened. “You might think that now. But you’re not invincible. Not when it comes to… people who matter to you.”

Natt’s heart tightened at Rin’s words. Kiro’s jaw clenched, a subtle tremor of something unspoken flashing across his face. He turned his attention back to Natt, who was still shaken from the fight.

Kiro moved closer, but kept his distance, arms crossed. “You shouldn’t have come this far on your own,” he said, voice clipped. “It was dangerous. You could’ve been killed.”

Natt took a shaky step forward, meeting Kiro’s gaze. “I needed to… I needed to try,” he admitted. “I want to be able to stand next to you… not behind you, not hiding. I want to face this… with you.”

Kiro’s expression softened slightly, but he still kept a measured distance, almost as if afraid to let the wall down too far. Natt, reading the hesitation, did something bold.

He reached out, fingers trembling, and gently took Kiro’s hand. The contact was electric, grounding, terrifying, and comforting all at once. Kiro’s body tensed at first, but he didn’t pull away.

“I’m not scared of you,” Natt whispered, voice raw. “Only… scared of losing you.”

The words cut through Kiro’s defenses in a way that bullets, threats, and enemies never could. For a long moment, he said nothing, simply allowing their hands to remain intertwined. The cold, ruthless edge of his persona softened, if only slightly, in the warmth of Natt’s trust.

But the reprieve was short-lived. The syndicate’s presence still loomed, and Rin’s parting words echoed in Kiro’s mind. Even you can’t do it alone.

Kiro’s eyes flicked to Natt. “Stay close,” he murmured, gripping Natt’s hand with just enough firmness to reassure him and anchor himself at the same time.

Natt nodded, feeling both fear and exhilaration, realizing the full weight of what he had just witnessed: the man he had grown to care for—possibly more than he wanted to admit—was ruthless, dangerous, and willing to risk everything for him.

And yet, beneath all that danger, beneath the lethal precision and cold efficiency, there was a heart willing to protect, a heart willing to let someone in.

The warehouse grew quiet. The syndicate members were neutralized, Rin had vanished, and only the faint hum of the city outside remained.

Kiro led Natt out into the night, still holding his hand, guiding him with careful precision. Natt felt the pulse of his heartbeat match Kiro’s—steady, controlled, protective.

He realized something then: he could fear Kiro’s ruthlessness, yes. But he would never fear the man himself, not truly. Because he trusted him, more than he had ever trusted anyone.

And in that trust, there was a promise, unspoken but understood: that no matter how dangerous the world became, no matter how lethal Kiro could be, he would not let Natt go.

The neon-lit streets of Bangkok stretch out before them, but the danger is far from over. Somewhere, hidden in the shadows, Rin watches with a knowing smirk, hinting that their challenges are only beginning—and that Kiro’s protectiveness may be tested in ways neither of them can yet imagine.