In the shadowy underworld of organized crime, two individuals stand poised on opposite sides of the law, each concealing their true identity behind a veil of secrets. Frost is a fierce and determined woman driven by a desire for justice and vengeanc...
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Fire
Katherine is all wasted and too drunk as I take her home. She blabbers nonsense on the way, her words a mix of incoherent thoughts and slurred speech. It's both endearing and frustrating, making it very hard for me to control myself when she is behaving like this.
"Why do you have to be so... so... bossy?" she mumbles, her head lolling against the window. "You're always so... in control."
I glance over at her, trying to keep my focus on the road. "It's for your own good, Katherine," I say, my voice strained. Her presence, even in this state, has a way of unsettling my usually unshakable composure.
"You don't own me," she says, her tone petulant. "You think you can just... just swoop in and save the day. Well, I don't need saving."
I grip the steering wheel tighter, my knuckles turning white. "You didn't seem to mind when that guy was all over you," I counter, unable to keep the edge out of my voice.
She pouts, her eyes half-closed. "You're... you're just like everyone else," she says, her voice barely above a whisper. "Thinking you know what's best for me."
Her words sting more than they should. I take a deep breath, trying to push down the emotions bubbling up inside me. "I'm not like everyone else, Katherine," I say quietly. "I'm trying to protect you."
She laughs, a sound that's more of a hiccup. "Protect me? From what?"
I don't answer. I can't. The truth is, I'm trying to protect her from a world she knows nothing about. A world that I'm deeply entrenched in. But how can I explain that to her?
We finally reach her apartment. I get out and walk around to her side, opening the door and helping her out. She leans heavily on me, her body warm and soft against mine. Every touch, every accidental brush of her hand, sends a jolt through me.
As we reach her door, she fumbles with her keys. "I can do it," she insists, her fingers clumsy and uncooperative.
"Let me," I say gently, taking the keys from her and unlocking the door.
We step inside, and I guide her to the couch. She collapses onto it with a sigh, her eyes fluttering closed. "You're always... so bossy," she murmurs again, a small smile playing on her lips.
I kneel beside her, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. She opens her eyes slightly, looking at me with a mischievous glint. "Why are you here anyway, Mr. Bossy?" she asks, her voice flirtatious.
I smirk, leaning closer. "You addressed me as your boyfriend the other day," I reply, my tone teasing. "So I'm just doing my duties."
She giggles, her laughter light and carefree. "You're not really my boyfriend," she says, but there's a hint of curiosity in her eyes.
